My Feet Freeze Fast

I peer around the corner and catch a glimpse of what once was.

My feet freeze fast in the memory.

I feel the gravel of grief beneath my feet. My heart hurts.  Strength in my arms drips from my fingertips and puddles on the floor. I sigh sorrowful.

I am caught off guard by my memory, yet it is not surprising.

I have a friend who hurts, now. Our stories are similar, yet different.

I hurt for her, too. My soul draws close to hers and meets her where she is.

I want to help her. I pray for her. I listen. I am present.

I try to separate out my sorrow from hers, but it is hard.

I ask Him to help me.

A cloud of witnesses appears in my mind.

I remember those who went before me, walked same and different roads, making the choice to put one foot in front of the other, committing to one hard choice after another, persevering when they felt like falling, always loving.

I realize gratitude for those who showed me the way and loved me when I was lost and love looked limp.

Now, I embrace my story and my sorrow, knowing that it is part of His purpose.

I allow God to take that memory and move me.

All for His glory, I step alongside of my friend, encouraging her to stay strong and seek Him.

Sharing a Note from a Reader ...

I almost missed it! A yellow floral note card peeked out from between catalogs and credit card offers, in my mail 2 weeks ago. It’s not every day I get a handwritten note in the mail. I was so excited.  I pulled up a chair, and sank in to it as I sank in to her words. 

(I got her permission to share with you all. She asked to remain anonymous).

Dear Andrea, 

I want to thank you for the entry I read today, Friday, October 21. It met me exactly where I am.  For the last ten years, each fall, my heart and mind do a “march” that takes me back to past events beginning in the end of October retracing my steps to find me standing at the sight of an open grave of my son, at the end of November.  

God has sustained me, grown me, helped me these past 10 years. His Mercy and Grace support me, hold me up and lead me on.  His great love gives me Hope and Strength.  Yet, here again, another fall, and I find myself on that “march” again. Like you, in hope and in trusting, I see each year God exchanging beauty for ashes.

This journey, this “march” as painful as it is, does remind of where I was , but more powerful yet, I see in hindsight the victory and overcoming power of Jesus Christ, my Lord and Savior.  He loves us and does not leave us where we once were.  This “march” may continue every fall, for all my life, but I can ‘see’ from where I stand today that defeat and despair have been replaced with rejoicing and praise.  This trial has been a ‘tool’ for my transformation in the refiner’s fire.  To Him all praise is due. 

So, I will keep on “marching” to “see” His glory – all for His glory. For it is not about me, it is all about Him.

Thank you, dear one, for sharing your faith, your hope. Thank you for your transparency and honesty. I continue to be a faithful reader. Keep on sharing your heart.

And thank you, friend, for taking the time to write and share your story with me -- with us.  It is a treasure.  You are a treasure.  May the Lord continue to strengthen you.  Your “march” is not in vain.  He is using you for good.

Mother's Day Musings

It seems to happen every year around Mother’s Day.

I am bombarded by emotions that I can never totally sort out.  Even sharing them makes me feel vulnerable and exposed and I fear, “What if I am the only one who feels this way?”

You see, I struggle with a combination of gratefulness and grief and guilt – and other yet-to-be determined thoughts and feelings when it comes to Mother’s Day.

I am truly grateful. I thank the Lord for my children.  They are a gift. I don’t want to minimize my joy in having them – I’m crazy in love with them.

I’m thankful for my mother.

I’m thankful for the women in my life who have mothered me in special ways.

However, my heart also tightens with sorrow.

Every year I grieve for those who want children and do not have them.

I grieve for those who struggle with infertility.

I grieve for those who miscarried. I have known this pain.

I grieve for those who have lost a child to death.

I grieve for the mother’s around the world who do not have food or clothing or housing for their children.

I grieve for those who lost a child to abortion, and now look back and deal with guilt and shame.

I grieve for those who have been hurt by their own mothers, either through abuse or neglect.  I grieve that, in turn, they often do not feel loved or valued.

I grieve for those who entered motherhood with hopes and dreams for their child, and who are walking a different path than they expected with a child with special needs, a child who rebels, or a child who is hurting. I know this sorrow, too.

I’m not sure what to always do with all this conglomeration of joys and sorrows, other than be open and honest with the Lord, letting them permeate the Heart of Heaven and asking Him to care for those who need His strength and love. I know He is the One who knows all and will bring comfort and joy, and so I am praying.

That’s where my heart is today, dear reader.  If there is something I can pray for you, specifically, please let me know.  I would count it a privilege to do so.