For One Hour

I very rarely dream about Joseph. I would really love to, and I pray to. But I can count on one hand the number of dreams I've had about him. Without fail, in each dream he still has his little limp he acquired after his surgeries, and he is still sick. I'm not sure why that is. I think maybe in some way I'm still worried he needs me and I long to take care of him. And the dreams always include his hands or feet. I don't know about you, but I notice hands and feet. I think they tell a lot about a person. With children, the hands and feet are precious. "Hold ma handy." "No want to wear shoes." I saw a lot of Joseph's feet because he hated shoes, and I hated battling him on this. So, he went bare foot a lot. Oh, those feet. One thing that devastates me even still is my lack of gratitude while Joseph was little. How I didn't cherish little things and whined a lot about minor inconveniences. I didn't know the glory in front o...

As I stepped gingerly out of his room, still peaceful from the cozy snuggling and warmth and feeling full from this baby love, I cherish that soft, wispy hair, those clear slowly-blinking eyes and the love that can only exist between a mother and baby. Oh, to prolong these days-- to make them last-- just one of them, into all eternity. It was then I caught sight of them, the dozens of leaves whipping by, beautiful in their dying splendor. The wind bends the branches, leaves resign and let go, chasing air. I'm drawn to the activity, the beauty, the light. Sun makes its entrance gloriously and shines heat upon my face. Oh, thank you Jesus. For beauty and warmth and light. A car whips by, stops abruptly in front of me and honks. Once, twice, three times. Let me in the gate. It speeds down the short driveway. Driver jumps out, ready for action. It is Sunday morning, but he is dressed casually, maybe for golf? What is the hurry? Why the honking? The rushing, the racing to the next...

Recently, I've had the honor of sharing in the grief of two different friends. I feel honored that they would share with me their hurts because I know how difficult it can be to share pain. There is a high risk of not feeling cared for or nurtured. As I have observed both of them I have seen God's glory even in the midst of ashes. Both of them are searching for God in their pain and choosing to trust Him even while feeling barren and disappointed. I've heard, "I just feel angry," or "Is this punishment for something I've done?" Yet I've also heard, "I'm choosing to lean into Jesus. Pray that I would do that," or "Even on one of my saddest days, it was also a good day. We laughed and had great time together as a family and I couldn't help thinking it was a good day." And I've praised God for these beautiful examples. Because death hurts. Sin hurts. People hurt. But with God, everything is backwards. The las...