The Never Ending Post

 

 

  

The privelege of sitting down to actually finish a blog post just doesn't seem to make the top of the priority list these days. I have been trying to complete this one for a week now, besides the umpteen posts that I have swirling around in my brain. Life has consumed us with school, soap stuff, farm stuff and kid stuff.

The weather has been nice enough to sit out on the covered porch of the chicken coop and enjoy my coffee and Bible in the mornings this week. I can't say that it's a very serene place, as the goats refuse to be quiet once they see any living soul and insist on being fed, the poor starving critters. The chickens, too, won't leave you alone as they wander around scratching for goodies. And then there are the barn cats who think my only purpose in life is to pet them. But I know the days are limited before it will require three layers of clothing to stay outside for any given time, so I battle the critters. There are few other places that convey so much peace.
 

As the song goes, "These are the days to remember."

I want to remember Micah trying to convince us all that he can do his math problems with his eyes shut; Cole finishing the fort that he started with his big brother two summers ago; the constant weekly running with children to guitar lessons, choir practice, horse events, and three different church activities on one night, besides the shuffling of friends back and forth for visits; puppies being born at midnight and kittens sleeping on a heated blanket in the living room as Rob shakes his head at these animal-loving people that he gets to live with.

 

 

Seven tiny bundles of puppy sweetness were born in the middle of the night last week. Cole, Grace and I were able to witness three of the births, two had already arrived before we realized the excitement had begun, and Lady surprised us with two new babies after we gave up on any more and had gone to bed. One little black girl, with a white splash on her chest, affirmed, again, God's continued answers to our prayers. After five tan babies, Grace confessed that she wanted "a black girl with a white splash," so we prayed. I awoke on Tuesday morning to a smiling girl carrying her special-order puppy as she crawled into my bed to snuggle. 

 

I have decided that I don't like Trent being dead anymore. Maybe we could start a petition and see if God would send him back. But I can't find any doctrine to support the idea, and I can't imagine that Trent would be too happy about it. So I go on. I keep getting out of bed in the morning and wait for eternity to begin. Keep trying to process it all and live in the meantime. Grappling with the thoughts of living and believing the Promises, trying to figure out where heaven actually is so I can try to explain it to an inquisitive kiddo, realizing that it is not by my power or might that the battle will be won, but by the power that God gives me to struggle, and being broken beyond what I thought was capable as I read of others who are just beginning to walk a similar walk to know Jesus and be counted worthy of this Kingdom to come. (Shannon, Beth, Lara and Allie)

 Restore to me the joy of your salvation and grant me a willing spirit, to sustain me.

 Psalm 51:12