An attempt to declare the Glory of God for what He has chosen to do with our lives. A legacy to leave to my children in the telling of it.

Monday, February 27, 2012

Poodles, and Other Ramblings

"Do not let your hearts be troubled.

Trust in God, trust also in me." {Jesus}


John 14:1

In an attempt to speed this time of anniversaries and birthdays, I have scheduled and relished in the chaos of busyness: 200 chicks, 6 puppies, new goat kids and more does to deliver, a couple of days at work, plus a soap class to teach, along with the norm of home school and farming. An unexpected head cold that swept throughout the house was not part of my idea, though, and has confused my well laid out plans, along with those six poodle-pie-pups who were supposed to sleep through the night so I could, too. Goat babies weren't supposed to die to unknown reasons, either, and I have decided that mother's should not have to choose how they want to celebrate their son being in heaven for one whole year.

I have hardly taken a single picture all week. Or wrote anything. Except attempting to figure out the checkbook to squeeze in paying for a set of new van tires and 500 pounds of feed this month. My attempts at cooking have mostly failed. The chicken noodle soup and raisin cinnamon bread were a flop, but the M&M cookies luckily turned out and were still almost-warm when the pancake-eating cousins stopped by to help us eat them all.

It has finally dawned on me that I'm running. I don't know how to feel, I don't know how to answer the questions, I don't want pity, I just want to draw nearer to God and I am scared to do that because it means more tears and more truth. But He continues to draw me near; there is no where to hide that He is not. He sends the arms to wrap around me, His conviction comes gently, that truth that I want to deny penetrates deeply. I stop in the busyness, and find Him in the pain. And He's there, just like He's in the joy, constantly pointing me to the cross and the glory beyond it. I fear being this near to the Creator of the Universe. Like Peter, I know who I am; I don't know why He would choose me. I feel so incapable of what He's called me to. Just let it all point back to Him.

I heard a song the other day, I don't even know what it was, but there was a line saying that God's grace was enough if we would let it be. Lately I haven't let it be. I waver back and forth, fighting hard to let it be, then pushing it away. Sometimes the pain, and the qualifying martyrdom rights, and simply wanting to be justified in my sorrow feels better than accepting the reality and letting God be enough when my son is gone. Everything screams at me that I am supposed to be the wailing, weeping, hard mother who hates what God has done. More lies, more deceit, the only accepted way to grieve, my flesh resorting back to only what it knows. But my soul fights because I know this God who says otherwise; this God who says He's telling the truth. The trials are only for a little while, the glory to come is unimaginable.

An elderly lady from our church passed away over the weekend. She was a faithful church goer who always had a smile on her face, and a hug and kind words to share. Her family is stunned at the unexpectedness and quickness to which death comes to us all. It was reported by a son that she had a premonition of her death. This matriarch is no longer here; her days are done on this earth. I wonder about her first glimpse of God. I wonder if she was ready. I wonder if the Sunday smiles were really salvation shining through. I wonder if she thought her 70-some-years went too fast. I wonder what she would have done differently after seeing that there really is a God.

This past week marks anniversaries that are measured in way's other than death, too. I am also celebrating life; real life. A year ago I asked a certain man, "Where would you be if it had been you?" I was overwhelmed when he walked into my kitchen this year on February 18th, again because of Trent and to join us in our sorrow, and I asked him the same question. The difference was that this year we both knew where He would be: Heaven. God chose to use Trent's death to grant salvation, to open eyes, to change eternities. How do you fathom a God like this? A God who gives and takes away.

John 16:20; 1 Peter 1:6; Luke 5:1-11

10 comments:

Painter Pack said...

Your words always fill me with such hope..hope in my own relationship with God...hope that I, too, am giving it all to Him, even through the times when I know I am trying to rely on my own understanding. As my 19 year old son tells me, I'm stubborn. And I know that this hinders God's plans for me at times because I will not simply give up and give it to Him! I cannot imagine your pain on this one year anniversary...But I know that you are proud of the son you raised and the miracles his passing has given to so many. I, for one, thank you for your "ramblings"...

Sherri

Brenda said...

Time goes so fast... too fast.

I can't find the word to express what my heart feels. I guess I just want to say that you're loved and thought about often. Your words are always an inspiration.

Dalyn (AKA The Queen of Quite Alot) said...

Sending you a hug friend.

pilgrimscottage said...

The Lord is our Peace and He is our Rest. And, I love your oodles of poodles.

*~*~*~*~Tonia said...

Been thinking and praying for you and your family... Those are some chubby little puppies...

TheLazyJ said...

Goosebumps after reading the last part. Again, you are guiding me as well as so many others in a deep, sincere, honest look at our relationships with God.

And, yeah, I'm glad you are raising puppies instead of me. They sure are cute, fat, roly-poly buggers though! Love that Boaz. :)

OurCrazyFarm said...

Like you said Brenda ... "words cannot express what my heart feels" in response to your sweet comments ladies. Love you:))

And those puppies ... cute, yes, other than the yipping and yapping at 6:00 a.m. (and 2:00 a.m. and 4:00 a.m.) and their insisting that I let them out to go potty, let them back in, feed them, play with them, love them, kiss them, pet them, pat them, etc, etc, etc, times six before coffee!!!

Sherry Sutherby http://russ-stickacres.blogspot.com/ said...

You've been in my heart and prayers dear friend. Many times those prayers were said in the middle of the night. (I must have known little "Boaz" had you up during those late night hours...:)Like everyone before me on here, you inspire me. And I can't wait to meet little Boaz, and see all the love you have poured into him. There has to be an analogy in here somewhere...

Donna OShaughnessy said...

I love how you write Terri, just allowing your thoughts to go go go but I can only imagine how totally exhausted your body and soul must be. Have you ever thought of going away all by yourself for a couple days ? Time to read the word, time to sob, time to sleep, to read to whatever. Your family will be OK if you do and Lent seems a great time to visit "the desert" Taking care of you too is acceptable practice :)

OurCrazyFarm said...

You must be reading my mind, Donna, because a little retreat is actually on the agenda~ except I'm going with my sister instead of alone:)) And added to your list will be lot's of coffee and giggling. Aaahhh... the guilty mother syndrome ... yes, they will be okay without me, won't they?