An Unexpected Journey

Sometimes it's hidden away in a children's book.  The truth I mean.   We hunt for it like the littles hunt for eggs.  And sometimes it's right there underneath our noses.  Staring at us from the colorful pages as our fingers skim across. The picture shows that hill where Jesus died.  Three shadowy crosses are silhouetted against a dark sky.  And I read about the exchange between the three dying men; the one in the middle is the God-man.  How odd, I thought, that Jesus would share his crucifixion with these strangers.  That God would orchestrate the other men's crosses being forever remembered in books about the resurrection even 2000 years later. What a curious conversation as they hung there with life ebbing away.  The final breaths struggling in and out while voices cracked and blood dripped. One spending the last of himself to ridicule the God-man hanging between them.  The other asking for mercy even as the sun was setting on him...

I have been dreading this day for weeks.  Not just because it's my birthday. Not because of the getting older thing.  No.  It's one of those things that only a mother would think of.  Who else counts the days in their subconscious?  Well, God.  And me.  A few weeks ago I looked at the ticker on the top of my blog, and I knew it was getting close.  This year is full of landmarks again.  Then I did a quick guess at the time and had a terrible thought.  It was impossible.  No, too horrible.  It was late at night and I was up alone so I scrambled for a calendar and frantically started counting.  I counted how many days she was alive... again.  Yes, it was four years, four months, and four weeks.  Makiah lived in my house and snuggled in my bed and stole all of my kisses and my heart for four years, four months, and 28 days exactly.  Then she went home.  October 8th, 2010.   I started calculating how lo...

I am sitting here in our office (we use that term pretty generously in our house) sipping chamomile tea with honey because that’s what Peter Rabbit’s mom gives him when he is sick.  I am trying to win the match against a second round of the cold that has given half my house bronchitis and one a diagnosis of asthma over the last few weeks.  I am staring at a pile of little girl’s coats- leopord print, silver vests with pink hoods, hounds tooth with a fluffy collar, a coat that could be little red riding hood’s- piled high on the old wooden box that serves as our filing cabinet of sorts.  They aren’t in their usual place hanging on the little, wooden hooks that line the walls of our closet under the stairs because a certain two year old decided to climb the shelves in there while I was at work.  And the shelves collapsed.  And all of our games, puzzles, arts and crafts, and speech therapy stuff came crashing down.  It really was organized so nicely.  Bu...

Nothing can separate Even if I ran away Your love never fails The song took hold of me and grabbed my heart. It was September 2010. The melody and the words... they just wouldn't let go of me. I played it over and over and over. I was 12 weeks pregnant with our twins and the doctors had said it did not look good. The neonatal specialist did not give me much hope.  But my golden haired daughter and I, we listened to the song.  We prayed to the song.   She danced around our living room.  Little feet twirling.  Four year old faith. Dancing, praising, and believing. I know I still make mistakes But You have new mercies for me everyday Your love never fails And things improved. Then October 8, 2010 crept up.  My world was rocked as our car spun out-of-control.  And my baby girl went home to be with Jesus.  My sweet four-year-old Makiah.  And we played the song again as people waited for her funeral to begin.  I had no words. ...

Seasons.  There is something beautiful and mysterious about seasons.  The seasons of life.  Seasons of the soul.  Each carries beauty and hardship.  Just enough to make us ready to embrace the next season when it comes. I love fall.  I always have.  The breathtaking vibrancy of red, yellow, and orange wrapping itself around the leaves before they drift to the ground.  My Grace baby's birthday is always the eve of fall.  This year she turned two, and it is as if someone told her what that means.  When I came to get her from her crib on the morning of September 21st, I exclaimed, "Happy birthday, Maddie Gracie!"  "No hatty birday!" she replied with a scowl.  "But you will get presents," I said with excitement.  "No pesents!" Maddie grumped.  Alena asked if she could have some of the cake, and Maddie told her "NO take (aka "cake").  I couldn't help but laugh at the seriousness of that furrowed brow and scowling po...

Sweetest Makiah, As I am scurrying around the kitchen trying to fix dinner, I can't help but think about it.  I try not to go there often.  To the deep places I mean. Who does?  Who has time when life wraps around you with a dizzying swirl of busyness? But something about anniversaries catches your breath and stills the racing thoughts.     It's 3:17 right now.  And you were still alive then.  We were driving between Jacksonville and Valdosta.  You were watching a cartoon about the miracles of Jesus.  I wish you could see your sisters now.  I think they have changed clothes several times since we got home from preschool!  They asked me in the car this morning if you go to school.  They said they wanted you to see them dance and wanted to show you their rainbow toes.  I told them we could ask Jesus to show them to you.  So they asked Him to right then!  Such childlike faith. It reminds me of you. ...

She knelt at the altar with head bowed as tears began to flood her face.  Within seconds this lady was surrounded by three children (not her own).  Each one gently put a hand on her and closed their little eyes as they began to pray silently.  It was one of the sweetest altar times I have witnessed.  I could barely blink back the tears last Sunday as I watched this beautiful scene unfold and thought of Jesus' words,  " Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these."    Mathew  19:14. Sometimes it is hard to remember that when the whining seems incessant or they tear through the house like little tornadoes with hands that grab everything!  A week or so ago my family was in that crazy hour that we call dinner when one of those awe filled moments grabbed me.  The kids were asking for things faster than I could get them to the table.  The baby was in one arm refusing ...