Archive | January 2013

Bubbles of mirth

“Mirth is God’s medicine.  Everybody ought to bathe in it.”  ~Henry Ward Beecher

Young boy blowing bubbles

Young boy blowing bubbles (Photo credit: Images of Sri Lanka – Sequential Shots)

Laughing on the outside. Crying on the inside. Sound familiar? I just posted a blog on tears. And here’s one on laughter; back to back. Go figure. It’s how my (warped) mind works. Perhaps you can relate. At least I hope you can. Either that or I have already lost your interest. What we can both agree on is that our fragile emotions are unpredictable; hence laughter one minutes, tears the next. My heart craves laughter relief. I have a funny bone ~ and so do you, yes?

The road of grief is long and dusty. Nothing much to look at. The landscape is dry and barren. We hope in Jesus’ soon return so we can be reunited forever with those we love. Meanwhile, the Bible tells us in Luke 19:13 to occupy until He comes. And while we “occupy” can we laugh a little?

Put your memory cap on. Ever had a belly laugh? I mean an honest-to-goodness internal jogging? Can’t remember? Been that long ago, huh? Me too. I have to strain to recall a story so funny that my sides ache from the belly exercise (it can use it) and my cheek muscles need a massage afterwards. Ahhhh. You remember one now? I’d love to have you share it so we all can enjoy.

I recall one I’d like to share. It’s true, believe it or not. No. It didn’t happen to my immediate family, but that is as much information as I will give. People demand privacy, you know, especially when the joke is on them. I have thought about mailing it to Reader’s Digest, not that they would publish, but it’s the thought that counts . . . and I can always count on a few bubbles of mirth at the memory.

A couple had purchased a rural knoll on which to build their retirement home. This would be a DIY project from the ground up and completed in two stages. First, build the garage and live in it while completing the house. Sounds good on paper and so they began clearing the land and setting up temporary housing in a tin lean-to; a three-sided contraption intended to give shelter from the night chill, but since they had planned  to be under roof before winter, they could manage this temporary bungalow with ease. After all, they were seasoned campers.

As it usually goes, it took longer getting going than anticipated and they were not enjoying warm shelter in the garage before cold weather set in. Poor things. These brave souls hunkered down under multiple layers of blankets trying to keep warm in their three-sided igloo. This was rustic living at its finest including an outdoor privy which had a door, but no heat or other creature comforts. And there is nothing warm about feeling the urge  in the wee hours of the morn. Squirm. Pull the covers tighter and try to overlook nature’s call. No good. Not going to happen.

Crawling out of his cocoon, the husband felt around for the flashlight in the early dawn. Couldn’t find it. Then he groped around for a certain article of clothing . . . ahhhh . . . his undies. No sense in freezing all functioning body parts. His fishing about woke up his wife.

“What are you looking for”, she asked with a yawn. “I’m hunting for my underwear,” he retorted. Now she was awake. Raising up on her elbows and adjusting to the dim light, she squinted and then fell back onto her pillow laughing uproariously! Of course, he was annoyed. SHE didn’t have to get up. So what was so funny?

“What’s so funny?” he demanded gruffly. Between fits of laughter she pointed to his head. “They’re up there!!!” she convulsed with more guffaws. He felt his head. Yup. It was covered, but not in the usual sock cap he wore to keep warm. Instead, this “cover” had a dual purpose. It had openings for legs!  Now it’s your turn to laugh:).

How happy are you who weep now, for you are going to laugh!  Luke 6:21, b

 

 

Reminders of a broken heart = revisited

Jesus Calling

No matter what your circumstances may be, you can find Joy in My presence. On some days Joy is generously strewn along your life-path… other days are overcast and gloomy… yet Joy is still attainable. Search for it as for hidden treasure

Begin by remembering that I have created this day; it is not a chance occurrence. Recall that I am present with you… then, start talking with Me. Awareness of My marvelous Companionship can infuse Joy into the grayest day.

Psalm 21:6; Proverbs 2:4

Daily devotional excerpt from Jesus Calling by Sarah Young.

This devotional by Sarah Young reminds me that joy is possible even if most days feel gloomy. The heart is open to receive . . . and my mind went back to a previous creation below. Read it for the first time or reread it again. Not because of something I have done, but because of what God wants to do. It may take lots of time, but He’s always patient. Eventually we will embrace the hope and feel the joy sprinkled along our journey.

* * *

The Downton Abbey characters are probably accurately portraying the English in the early 1920’s with their habit of holding emotions inside. I have grown quite fond of the Crowley family, currently preparing their 4th season. Quite long enough to have grown attached to each member of the family. I could not even turn away as the youngest daughter slipped away due to eclampsia after giving birth to a baby girl. They should have hired me to shed some tears for each of their shocked and stoic faces. I had plenty. I became an embarrassing puddle for the one watching with me. (who can understand the ways of a woman, right?) But seriously, the director should keep a an eye dropper of water handy to use at such moments to at least give evidence that the English have tear ducts.

Of course this tapped into a sordid supply of feelings long since spent and yet as current as yesterday. We dine on sitcoms and reject reality. We feast on reality shows and create a famine for truth. I don’t get it. Just consider this a lamenting drivel of pointless thought about life and the constant quest to understand the cruelty of death; the robber that keeps the need for head stones in old, ordinary church yards long overdue for a gardener’s touch or hugging the ground in the pristine garden green that from a distance looks like a lovely place to build a home, but it’s not.

Strange. Time has helped me get used to living without my first child. Tears don’t pour down my face as often now. But the deep pain is always within arm’s reach, intending  to reel me back in when I least expect it. As many words as I have poured unto paper which filled a book, one would think there would be nothing left to say. But my words are not your words. Your words are not my words. Today’s words are not tomorrow’s words. There are always more. The depth of one’s heart cannot be measured. Perhaps it has no bottom, but it has stairs ~ a winding circular staircase edged with railings carved by nail-scared hands. The railings are smooth to my touch. It is dark as I enter my heart. My eyes are blurry so I grip the railings for support. Perhaps they were carved by one who has an intimate relationship with wood for they are silky smooth.

I wipe my eyes, trying to see. I hear the rhythmic beat of my blood pumping soft and steady. It’s reassuring. I sit down on a step to rest. As my eyes adjust to the darkness I realize I’m not alone. He’s there, sitting beside me. I’m not startled by his presence, but drawn to snuggle next to him. We are quiet. Neither of us speaks. In the soft light I can see further down where I came before to sit and weep and think. He came then too. I remember he held me close as I cried. Per usual I had no tissue with which to blow my nose. He smiled and offered the edge of his wide sleeve. I smiled at the prospect of blowing on pure whiteness, but one does what one must at such times. I blew on the soft linen of his sleeve. He put His other arm around me, saying softly, “Don’t worry. It will dry. I have plenty more where it came from.”

I wasn’t sure how long I wanted to stay. These visits, working down into the unknown depth of my shattered heart, are painful and make me deeply sad as I remember the sweetness that once rested on my heart . . . listening to it’s comforting, steady beat while floating in a warm bath inside my tummy. That was the beginning for a child loved since conception and God had already loved and longed for his arrival throughout the ages . . . long before the short years we had together . . . which ended way too soon.

It  doesn’t feel like I need to explore deeper this night. He understands and draws me to his breast for one more reassuring hug. We stand together for a moment longer before I retrace my steps. The curved stairway disappears from view and my touch. Perhaps next time we will meet here again and arm in arm, descend a few more steps into the chambers of my broken, but mending heart.”

The Lord is my Strength and my [impenetrable] Shield; my heart trusts in, relies on, and confidently leans on Him, and I am helped; therefore my heart greatly rejoices, and with my song will I praise Him.  Psalm 28:7, amp

New twist on an old poem

A shepherd and his sheep on the way to Hampta ...

My Shepherd carries me when the path is rocky   and steep. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

One of the first of King David’s poems I learned was the 23rd Psalm. It is probably familiar to most of us. I don’t imagine he was king when he wrote this. He spent much of his early years taking care of his father’s sheep. While they were grazing he probably had lots of time to write. His poems are an outpouring of his love for His God and are priceless just as they are, but sometimes I get the urge to do a re-write. To do it just for the enjoyment of it.

I am a sheep. Jesus is my Shepherd and with Him by my side I shall never be in need. When it is time to rest, He makes a bed for me in fresh green pastures. He leads me to where there is fresh water to drink. I quench my thirst. He renews my strength and refreshes my life. Where He leads, I follow. I know that He will guide me safely in the path He has planned for me. It’s all for my good and His glory.

In this world, the paths are often rocky, full of twists and unforeseen turns which may lead into the darkness of death, but I will not fear the enemy for Jesus stays by my side. He will weep with me and walk with me while I grieve. He will never leave me or forsake me and I take comfort in His strength. He is armed against the enemy which gives me courage and as long as I stay next to Him, I am safe.

Even a simple sheep has enemies, but they keep their distance while Jesus prepares for us a banquet of my favorites and it is delicious. He pours warm oil over my head, cuts and sores. I feel blessed relief. He holds, hugs and strokes my soft curly fur. It fills up my love cup until it brims and overflows. I am happy, blessed and content.

I choose to keep close to Jesus all of my days which He will fill with goodness, unconditional love and tender mercy. He has invited me home to live with Him. I accept His offer with joy and we shall live in His awesome home forever and ever.

God “in a Box”

But, God, can You really live here on the earth? The sky and the highest place in heaven cannot contain You. Surely this house which I have built cannot contain You.  1 Kings 8:27

 

I was thinking about an old toy, Lord. One that I used to play with when I was a child, and then we bought one for our children. Remember? It was a box that played a tune and then burst open and up popped a clown or some other cute surprise. It was startling the first time; then I, like all children before and after me, played it over and over again ~ driving mine and generations of parents crazy.

 

A jack-in-the-box

A jack-in-the-box (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 

Using the toy as an analogy, perhaps that is how I viewed You when I was a child growing up. You were like that toy ~ easily contained in a box that sat on a shelf or lay forgotten at the bottom of my toy chest. You might be pulled out to be played with once in awhile ~ pop up, get a reaction, and then Your lid would be slammed down and You would be out of sight until the next whim.

 

How sad to think You were nothing more than a “God-in-a-box” toy to me. From a childish viewpoint, You were not needed very often, and You couldn’t be very powerful; after all, You fit in a pint-sized box.

 

That was then, but how about now? Have I let You out of Your “box” yet? Have I begun to realize how mammoth You really are and that You could never be contained on any scale?

 

In Job 37, MSG, one of Job’s friends confronts him: Stop in your tracks! Take in God’s miracle-wonders! Do you have any idea how God does it all, how He makes bright lightning from dark storms, how He piles up the cumulus clouds ~ all these miracle-wonders of a perfect Mind? Mighty God! Far beyond our reach! Unsurpassable in power and justice! It’s unthinkable that He’d treat anyone unfairly. So bow to Him in deep reverence, one and all! If you’re wise, you’ll most certainly worship Him.

 

Then God confronts Job in chapter 38, MSG: I have some questions for you, and I want some straight answers. Where were you when I created the earth? Who decided on its size? Certainly you’ll know that! Who came up with the blueprints and measurements? How was its foundation poured and who set the cornerstone, while the morning stars sang in chorus and all the angels shouted praise? And who took charge of the ocean when it gushed forth like a baby from the womb? That was Me! I wrapped it in soft clouds and tucked it in safely at night.

 

Do you know where Light comes from and where Darkness lives so you can take them by the hand and lead them home when they get lost? Have you ever traveled to where snow is made, seen the vault where hail is stockpiled, the arsenals of hail and snow that I keep in readiness for times of battle and war?

 

 

 

God raised one challenging question after another and volleyed them one by one at Job. Bull’s-eye. Job had no response. How could he? Our God is an awesome, majestic, and powerful God!

 

O Lord, there is none like You, nor is there any God besides You, according to all that our ears have heard.  1 Chronicles 17:20

 

You cannot be contained ~ not in a box. Not in a structure of any kind, and I am so grateful.

 

Thank You, God.

 

 

 

shared from “Shattered by Suicide”

 

 

 

Twice baptized

One of our fur ball brothers was the more inquisitive of the two when we brought them home. Bogey was the leader then, but now he wouldn’t dream of exploring the water sights in his digs now. He has great respect for the wet stuff. In fact, he runs and hides at any sound, poor baby. But he has grown into a gentle adult cat who loves being petted if you are family. Others? Not so much.

But as a kitten, he was fearless and absolutely fascinated by water. Whenever I drew a bath, both Bogey and Bailey would show up for a ring-side seat. I guess they loved the sound of the water filling the tub. I must admit, I like it too. Both kittens would hop up on the edge of the tub and sit and watch or walk back and forth on the edge. Ever the guarding mother, I would poise to retrieve if one . . . or both took an accidental nose dive into the drink.

One evening I was drawing a bath. Little inquisitive Bogey was watching from the sidelines. Little kittens + slick tub + slick toilet seat = a  disaster waiting to happen. Hit the pause button. Let’s look at what Wikipedia has to say to give us a vision for the phrase:

A picture is worth a thousand words.  [Which] refers to the notion that a complex idea can be conveyed with just a single still image. It also aptly characterizes one of the main goals of visualization, namely making it possible to absorb large amounts of data quickly.”

My version would include a video of what happens next since my brain would like to slow down each scene, review it over and over, share it with friends for laughs and mail it in for a $10,000 reward, but you don’t care about that. So back to the story.

Picture Bogey perched on the slippery tub’s edge. He’s leaning in. He has his momma behind him, poised to retrieve. Seconds later he hits the water with a splash. I reach for him. Missed! Before I can grab at him again, he jumps up and sails a perfect arch landing him, not on a dry spot of safety as planned, but back into the drink again . . . and this one’s as cold as the other was hot . . . you guessed it. The toilet bowl. Cats don’t usually like water, right? Neither does Bogey (he found out) and just as quickly as he landed in the toilet, he sprung up like he had coiled-spring legs and and jumped toward the exit door in one giant-sized leap for a tiny kitten and scampered to safety. Bogey would live to see another day. That incident was never repeated and our traumatized Bogey rarely approaches the scene of his baptism again.

John Baptizes Jesus

The Baptism of Jesus

The Baptism of Jesus                                          (Photo credit: Travis S.)

13 Then Jesus appeared. He came from Galilee to the Jordan River to be baptized by John. 14 But John tried to stop him and said, “I need to be baptized by you. Why are you coming to me?”

15 Jesus answered him, “This is the way it has to be now. This is the proper way to do everything that God requires of us.”

Then John gave in to him.16 After Jesus was baptized, he immediately came up from the water. Suddenly, the heavens were opened, and he saw the Spirit of God coming down as a dove to him.17 Then a voice from heaven said, “This is my Son, whom I love—my Son with whom I am pleased.”  Matthew 3:13-17

Wow! What a baptism! I wish I had been standing in the water when John baptized Jesus and then heard God’s voice rumble through the heavens. Awesome!

Bogey won’t follow me into the tub. He’s been well baptized and besides, he does not understand its purpose anyway, but we do. We follow after the One who is Creator, Master, Redeemer and Friend. I will follow Him anywhere.

Soaking You Up

Father God, this might sound silly to some people, but You already know that I love to soak in a tub of hot water, and yes . . . a plethora of bubbles is nice too. Add a scented candle with its soft glow and lovely fragrance . . . and You and I can settle in to enjoy some thoughtful, quiet moments together.

English: A cat licking its paw

English: A cat licking its paw (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 

 

Of course, we must allow room in this tranquil setting for the family cat who loves to swipe his paw in the hot water and lick it dry. Not my taste,but apparently he enjoys it.

 

 

Soaking up Your Word is equally as lovely when I dwell on verses of scripture that quiet my aching heart and soothe my troubled spirit. You know what I am referring to, God. Our son passed away a few years ago and his absence is keenly felt in our family. The death of a child causes gut-wrenching, gnawing pain. What would I ever do without You to console me when tears threaten to carry me away like a swollen river?

 

 

 

Thank You, gracious Father, for collecting my tears in Your bottle. It’s just like You to keep track of the hairs on my head too. With that kind of counting, You show such tender regard for every inch of me.

 

 

 

Though I walk through the [deep, sunless] valley of the shadow of death, I will fear or dread no evil, for You are with me; Your rod [to protect] and Your staff [to guide], they comfort me.  Psalm 23:4

 

 

 

~shared from “Shattered by Suicide”

 

 

 

This entry was posted on January 18, 2013.

Bible Moms . . . Eve

Eve and the First Murder

 

I’ll multiply your pains in childbirth; you’ll give birth to your babies in pain.  Genesis 3:16

 

Planting and tilling and harvesting, sweating in the fields from dawn to dusk, until you return to that ground yourself, dead and buried;
you started out as dirt, you’ll end up dirt.  Genesis 3:19

 

Ouch! Harsh words to our first newlyweds. Actually, I don’t think we know how long Adam and Eve were married before Eve left her husband’s side and trotted off to explore on her own. Perhaps she had “temporary amnesia” for God‘s rules about the garden. They were vital; a matter of life or death and she chose death, but perhaps not with an open mind. Actually she was hoodwinked by a mesmerizing snake who was really satan in a masterful disguise. The enemy’s plan worked and now he had found in planet Earth a place to call his home. And we all suffer pain from those bad choices.

 

I feel sorry for our first Mom. She was forewarned that she would know sorrow; having to leave her perfect garden home where she could talk with God face to face at any time. God told the couple what was to become of them for their sin. Because of Eve‘s sin, childbirth would be painful. Because of Adam’s sin, the ground would yield only after hard, difficult labor. And there would be death; something totally unfamiliar and not part of the divine plan.

 

First born son was Cain. Second born son was Abel. The two were different, just like lots of brothers, but unlike most boys, Cain was jealous of his younger brother. One day they both brought an offering to the Lord. Cain was a farmer so he brought some of his vegetables. Abel was a shepherd so he brought an offering from his flock. “The Lord looked with favor on Abel and his offering, but on Cain and his offering he did not look with favor.” (Genesis 4:5) Cain became livid.

The First Mourning

The First Mourning (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

God addresses Cain’s anger, “Why is your face downcast? Why are you angry? If you do what is right, will you not be accepted? But if you do not do what is right, sin is crouching at your door; it desires to have you, but you must master it.” (Genesis 4:6-7)

 

Cain did not heed God’s good advice. Instead he let his anger escillate to rage. He invited his brother out to the field and there he killed him. We are only 4 chapters into the Bible and already we have our first murder. I don’t know about you, but that hits me hard. Eve, our first mom, has to experience the painful loss of her baby and at the hands of her firstborn! Death by murder in the first family! And from parents God carved out of the dirt by His own two hands.

 

I can’t imagine Eve’s pain. I know the loss of a child, but mine was not murdered by his brother. They discovered for the first time what death looked like; bloody, blue and not breathing. Eve had no one but her husband to turn to for comfort and he had his own grief to deal with. There were no other moms or a support group or a licensed counselor to turn to. She probably cried out to God a lot. Perhaps He was her sole Comforter. No doubt God was in agony too. This was not the plan He had in mind. Eve’s choices in the garden led to this horror.

 

How sad God must have been. His advice to Cain is the best advice for us even today:  If you do not do what is right, sin is crouching at your door; it desires to have you, but you must master it.” (Genesis 4:7)

 

 

 

 

 

Light wins

This is the message which we have heard from Him and declare to you, that God is light and in Him is no darkness at all.  1 John 1:5

Ever turned on the light and watch cockroaches scatter? I know. Nasty thought. I live with a man who hates cockroaches, but is not shy about killing as many as he can. He got tons of practice at the old farmhouse my parents lived in. We’d go to bed and then he’d get up. I followed to see what he was up to. Fly swatter in one hand and the other hand on the light switch then, bam, bam, bam! I have an intense dislike for these creatures of darkness, but this memory makes me smile.

Heard a story once. Probably not true, but funny none the less. As the story goes, a group of folks were invited over for a delicious meal in which the star was pork chops. After everyone had eaten their fill there was still one pork chop left on the serving platter. The hostess offered it to all, but each one around the table graciously declined. Then she said, “I’m going to turn off the light and somebody better take that pork chop. It’s not going to waste.” With that, she shut off the light. There was a blood-curdling scream. Quickly she turned the light back on. In the middle of the table were seven hands on the lonely pork chop and the top hand had a fork stuck in it! Perhaps this joke is more about manners than morals, but it does make a point.

There is something serious about dark vs and light. As the verse above says, God is light. The enemy of our souls is darkness. There is not a ray of light left in him. Remember his beginning?

Ezekiel 28 says that Lucifer was the model of perfection, full of wisdom and perfect in beauty. Every precious stone adorned him and he was a guardian cherub, holy and blameless u-n-t-i-l wickedness was found in him. He became proud and corrupt and down he came to earth, bringing a third of the heavenly angels with him.

Just to read this description of satan gives me the chills. He is nothing to tangle with. You cannot argue with a demon. He has the Word of God mastered so well he can misquote and carry it off time and time again. He is darkness. He will never be light.

Woe to those who call evil good and good evil, who put darkness for light and light for darkness, who put bitter for sweet and sweet for bitter.  Isaiah 5:20

This entry was posted on January 17, 2013.

This little light

A triptic of tea light candles.

There is a little song our boys learned to sing in Sabbath School when they were tiny. There were plays, songs and hands-on participation which started as soon as the babies could sit up. The parents got to be adults for an hour and the babies are thoroughly stimulated and totally entertained. The little older children learned to sing songs, act out the movements and participate more. Sabbath School was something our children looked forward from week to week.

One of the little songs they learned is “This Little Light of Mine” and it went something like this. Now don’t get excited. I only remember a couple of repetitious phrases: This little light of mine, I’m going to let it shine, this little light of mine I’m going to let it shine, let it shine, let it shine, let it shine.

 

Of course it’s simple. It’s for wee ones who are barely able to follow instructions at this age. The only other verse I remember or want to include at this time is:  Won’t let satan blow it out, I’m going to let it shine, then it repeats as above. The interactive part was the child holding up his finger and simulating blowing it out. This song as been playing in my mind until I could set at my keyboard and put some ideas down for your consideration.

It struck me. I see for comparisons sake, the life of a child as a candle with the wick lit and the light burning bright and strong from morning until night when it is blown out at bedtime only to be relit in the morning and kept burning all day and evening. The burning candle represents life. If the candle is allowed to burn out, that means the child has died.

If I take the  candle picture from my mind and placed it beside the truth that my son died by suicide. His candle is no longer lit. Who blew his candle out? I didn’t, and as far as I know, no one else did either. Then is it logical that my son blew out his own life candle. Or could there be another possibility? Let’s read again the words to one of the verses of the song:  Won’t let satan blow it out, I’m going to let it shine.

At an early age, someone was teaching the children a song that includes the evils of satan; that he can blow out our candle. The wee ones were learning that Jesus loves them, but also to watch out for satan, the bad guy on earth. This is more than a simple song. There is truth for our understanding.

While I am musing about this allegory, I might as well go all the way and speculate that satan is less interested in blowing out imaginary candles of small children than he is in blowing out the candles of those who are sad, depressed, bullied, can’t stop the pain themselves and see death as the way to end the pain. Perhaps it does not matter who snuffs the candle out, but more like who eggs the discouraged person on with bullying thoughts to their minds until the weakened one just wants it to stop.

It always appears that the one who takes their life by suicide acts alone. I would like to submit that they are not alone. Whoever is lurking in the dark shadows, encouraging them to “just do it” is likely one of satan’s demons on a suicide mission to snuff out the candle of someone who is bright, full of life and has so much to contribute to the world.

For we are not fighting against human beings but against the wicked spiritual forces in the heavenly world, the rulers, authorities, and cosmic powers of this dark age. Ephesians 6:12

 

This entry was posted on January 11, 2013.

A time for review

“Hope springs eternal in the human breast.” (Alexander Pope, An Essay on Man)

May our Lord Jesus Christ Himself and God our Father, who loved us and by His grace gave us eternal encouragement and good hope. 2 Thessalonians 2:16

Can it really be 2013 already? Time does travel. Sometimes slowly. Sometimes full speed ahead. Since we have exchanged last year’s calendar for a new one, I’ve been thinking it might also be a good time to review this whole blog thingy.

The mission, 200 + blogs ago, was to tap into the pain of another child of God and be a hand extended ~ to comfort, to share the sorrow, to point to Jesus Christ, our only hope. I hope that you have felt His love through shared thoughts. I hope you have learned to trust in our friendship. I hope you will continue to stop by and share a moment of your day. I hope you find relief from pain if only for a moment. I hope you know that God will never let you down. He is always there to comfort and provide relief. Grief is hard work! It’s not for sissies. We may not find the end to pain, but pain will have an ultimate end when we no longer live in a war zone, so we encourage each other with these words. We’ve come to realize that we don’t walk through pain alone. That is what this blog is about.

There may be some late comers that don’t know my story. This is the Reader’s Digest version. Seven years ago, my first born died by suicide and we were flung into a world of pain that we never knew existed. To lose one’s child by sudden, shocking death of their own choosing is beyond description although I have tried.

I crawled into a hole and vowed to never come out. But God in His mercy, had other plans. Some might think it strange to consider that God speaks to His kids, but it’s not strange at all. We hear voices in our heads all the time. We know when we are tempted to do something bad ~ that voice is very familiar, right? We also know the soft voice which is much more quiet than the bad voice. It is this soft voice that speaks words of encouragement, which gives us ideas how to be helpful to ourselves and to others. This is the same voice which spoke to my heart one day. It whispered, “Why don’t you journal your pain to Me?” My immediate thought response was, “Why would I want to do that? I don’t write and besides, I don’t have anything to say.”

God was persistent. And it wasn’t long before I sat down at the computer and stared at a blank page of white. But it didn’t stay blank for long. I  constantly poured out words of pain which filled many pages of my journal. God had bigger plans and a book was born. It is His book, really. I wrote about my feelings and He added His words of comfort. It was a shared experience that I will treasure always. I never felt so close to Him as I did then. About three years ago, Shattered by Suicide: My Conversations With God After The Tragic Death of My Son, was published and is available global on Amazon.com. This is not an attempt to advertise unless you consider telling what God has done through me, advertising. By His grace, there is a book out there going around the world to help those suffering from tragic loss. Every 40 seconds someone in this world takes their life. In this dark world, we need more than a mission statement, we need hope. We need a Savior.

This entry was posted on January 9, 2013.