Stuff . . .

And we rejoice in the hope of the glory of God.

Not only so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings,

because we know that suffering produces perseverance;

perseverance, character;

and character, hope.

And hope does not disappoint us,

because God has poured out His love into our hearts

by the Holy Spirit, whom He has given us.

Romans 5:2b-5

The camp called yesterday and left a message asking if Trent might want to come to the youth retreat in February. I know . . . just let that sink in for a bit. Just another goofy grief thing that seems to never end. Umm, no, Trent won't be able to make it this year, he has better plans. I laughed, I banged my head on the table, and then I cried. A book will be in the mail soon . . .

It's been a week of "haunting"~ making enchiladas for movie night again, pulling into the grocery store parking lot just as an exact snowmobile-coat-clad-patron walked by, vivid dreams, the ushering in of the "seconds" with the birth of the new goats. I figured once the firsts were over we'd be on the easy side of grief; I guess I was wrong.

Cole tripped on the china hutch yesterday, which refreshed more eleven month old memories. The day before the accident Trent had been running through the dining room, tripped on the leg of the hutch, the door flew open and out came crashing down numerous long-stemmed glasses that we use for our fancy birthday suppers. He was going to tell me and apologize the next day. I never got around to making any fancy birthday suppers the past year to realize they were missing.

My brain has refused to think this past week: complete overload. So I let it rest, and I rest, and I function on auto-pilot to keep cooking, and doing chores, and raising kids, and waiting for eternity to begin. Words could barely even break through as the balm that they usually are. I stayed where God had me; I trusted His leading. I indulged in ignoring the computer; I indulged in loving my kiddos; I indulged in letting life be simple.

This morning God led me to the Romans passage to wrestle again with suffering, hope, joy, glory. My brain doesn't understand justification through faith leading to peace with God at this point. My brain just wants to stay fuzzy in it's vitamin D lacking winter hibernation: sometimes it feels safer there. But on my knees I know this God; this God of big words and bigger truths. I long for this God, to really know Him, and realize that suffering is a huge part of it.

The suffering is what causes us to look for hope.

It's a grasping at this point; barely holding on by the fingertips as I strive to live moment to moment some days, but it's still there: hope. Hope in the glory of God, hope in the glory yet to be revealed, hope in an eternity to see it clearly. Hope worth rejoicing in, even in the suffering.