Monday, July 6th~God's Mercies after Suicide: Blessings Woven through a Mother's Heart~Christmas Day~Devotion

photo by Jean Ann Williams~a crumbled down house

“Let him who walks in darkness and has no light trust in the name of the LORD and rely on his God.”

—Isaiah 50:10

Christmas morning I crawled out of bed.

Fearful, sad, lonely for my son Joshua.

The day smothered me. My muddled brain ran down the corridors of the same emotions. Someone was missing.

Sad—why did he go? Did he not love us? Sadness took root and choked me, day after day and throughout the months.

Joshua could not share in our lives any longer. We trudged on without him.

Fearful—the moment I heard the killing shot. Now I still can’t wrap my mind around life absent of Joshua. How can there even be this? Without him?

     

Lonely—I’m wretched. Numerous times I’ve prayed for the Lord God to stop my heart from beating.

We had come through most of the special holidays and events without our son. And yet, this day—Christmas—would be one of the toughest.

Jami invited us to spend the morning with them and watch the children open their gifts. Much relieved, my husband and I accepted. Normally, Jami and her family had their own family gift-exchange time, and we all would meet later in the day at a relatives’ home.

At first, we sat on Jami’s couch and watched like outsiders. The children drew us in, though. Their smiles beckoned us to be happy with them, and they showed us the gifts they had received.

Always sad—I now laughed at a cute thing my grandchildren had said or done.

Father, for sure we wanted to crawl in a hole and not go through this day. It came and we survived, because of You. We trust in You, for Your great love moved You to give up Your Son, who was born and died for our sins. In Jesus’s holy name. Amen.

Friday, July 3rd~God's Merices after Suicide: Blessings Woven through a Mother's Heart~A Mother's Memories

Joshua in high school, wearing the white tea-shirt with a green symbol

At age two, Joshua would pull up a chair and watch me knead dough for whole wheat bread.

He patted and pushed near my hands. “Mama, I wanna help.”

I washed and dried his pudgy hands and stood him in a chair in front of me. “Okay, now push down like this.”

He shoved his palm into the soft dough and grunted. “Like that?”

I dipped my chin. “Like that.”

At one point, he said, “That’s hard, Mama,” and he’d make grunting noises and keep on pushing the dough.

Later, as the bread baked, he said, “Is it ready now?”

“No, not yet.”

As the loaves cooled on a rack, Joshua asked, “Now it’s ready?”

  

I pointed at a chair at the table. “Sit down. I’ll bring you a piece with butter and jam.”

Joshua kneeled on his spot at the table, folding his hands. I placed the platter of bread in front of him. We prayed our “Thank You, God” prayer. At “amen,” my guy grabbed his bread and chomped into its warmth. He stared at me and smiled, bread poking out from the corners of his lips. With his mouth still full, he said, “Yummy, Mama.”

Forward through time to twenty-one years later. “Mom,” Joshua said, “these buckwheat groats I’m making are turning out this time.”

I peered into the skillet next to Joshua. Sure enough, they were not a gray blob but held their color and firmer texture. “Now you’ll have to teach me how to make that, Son.”

We sat down to a lunch of buckwheat groats and ate the entire full skillet.

Father, I cherish the times when my son and I cooked and baked together. In Jesus’s holy name, I’m grateful. Amen.

Reader Journal

~Your Mother Memories~

~Your Prayer of Praise~

~A Scripture of Encouragement~

Wednesday, July 1st~God's Mercies after Suicide: Blessings Woven through a Mother's Heart~Christmas Baking and Decorating in Joshua's Memory~Devotion

Morgan Ann, all grown up, sitting upon my lap

“For he will command his angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways.”

—Psalm 91:11

“Nana, please, we have to bake cookies, and you need a Christmas tree to decorate.”

My eldest grandchild, ten-year-old Morgan Ann, would not quit on the topic of Christmas. 

I did not want to bake. And I sure didn’t want a tree, when Joshua had always been involved with choosing a big one. When Morgan pleaded more than once, my husband and I relented.

Morgan and her two sisters, Lynsey and Carley, came over early one morning to begin the handmade ornaments. At least I got my way that there would be no ornaments on the tree except for what the girls made. I guessed I could handle that much. Morgan also insisted we make Joshua’s favorite cookies, a welcoming and fitting inspiration. 

Okay, maybe I could do this.

The girls made a big mess with glue, glitter, and construction paper. We strung cranberries and popcorn on strings and decorated cutout egg cartons into bells. The girls hung the ornaments on a three-foot-tall tree, also my idea. No big tree.

We made fudge—my idea. The rest were Joshua’s favorites: thumbprint cookies, hand-decorated snowmen and Santa Claus, and angel sugar cookies. Pink, blue, and green frosting was smeared on the table and on my granddaughters’ faces. We laughed. They howled.

I took oodles of pictures.

When the girls left that evening, I sighed with a smile. Morgan Ann had had a wonderful idea.

Father, thank You for prompting me to please my granddaughters. We made wonderful memories, and they blessed me. Please bless them as they grow into young women who may learn to follow after You. In Jesus’s holy name. Amen.