How does one put pain on paper? This sacred trust . . .
My daughter and family left yesterday, and then it was quiet.
Except for the throbbing memories . . .
Of little heads held against my breast in parting
Of love notes left behind
Of wonder at a cicada chirp
Of yard sales and curbside finds
Of catching fireflies in the moonlight
Of roasting marshmallows around a campfire
Of splashing in Roanoke River
Of pink pigs and tutus
Of scriptural conversations around the table and in the car
Of bake-offs and beach trips
Of sandbox fun and tea parties
Of music and laughter
Of walks to the willow tree
Of stick figure people on the fridge
Of grace and ballet
Of tender hugs and sweet, sloppy kisses
Of juice skies and thoughtful questions
Of stories read and touches to the face in the darkness
Of lolli-pops and bubbles
Of water balloon fights and "homemade" volleyball
Of songs to the elderly
Of care packages to neighbors
Of pumpkin carving and Christmas tree stands
Of countless stroller rides around the block
Of rocking and reading
Of hurts and healing
Of biking and boating on Carvin's Cove
Of babies birthed, of ministry fruit, of fostering/adoption
Of remodeling/decorating the bathroom with Parisian theme (not knowing you'd be in France 12 years later)
Of prayers prayed through bittersweet tears
Thank You, Abba, for 12 years packed with preciousness. I know more good and godly gifts await from the Father of lights with whom there is no variation or shifting shadow (James 1:17). Thank You for the forever gift of you, Abba.
Thank You that I can use this pain of separation, this sacred trust, to comfort others, too (2 Corinthians 1:3-5). Thank You that this pain, this sacred trust, deepens my appreciation for the sacrifice of Your Son to save me. And because of Your gift, I am compelled to share Him with others. This pain, this sacred trust, lifts my gaze to eternity--to my real home in heaven with You where no sad separations will take place for those who love You and are called according to Your purpose (Romans 8:28).
Keep my heart tender, Abba. Always moving in Your direction. Always bowed before Your throne. Always clinging to the Cross. Always rejoicing in God my Savior. Always leading others to You.
Then this pain, this sacred trust, will have served its purpose, now and for all eternity.
Of love notes left behind
Of wonder at a cicada chirp
Of yard sales and curbside finds
Of catching fireflies in the moonlight
Of roasting marshmallows around a campfire
Of splashing in Roanoke River
Of pink pigs and tutus
Of scriptural conversations around the table and in the car
Of bake-offs and beach trips
Of sandbox fun and tea parties
Of music and laughter
Of walks to the willow tree
Of stick figure people on the fridge
Of grace and ballet
Of tender hugs and sweet, sloppy kisses
Of juice skies and thoughtful questions
Of stories read and touches to the face in the darkness
Of lolli-pops and bubbles
Of water balloon fights and "homemade" volleyball
Of songs to the elderly
Of care packages to neighbors
Of pumpkin carving and Christmas tree stands
Of countless stroller rides around the block
Of rocking and reading
Of hurts and healing
Of biking and boating on Carvin's Cove
Of babies birthed, of ministry fruit, of fostering/adoption
Of remodeling/decorating the bathroom with Parisian theme (not knowing you'd be in France 12 years later)
Of prayers prayed through bittersweet tears
Thank You, Abba, for 12 years packed with preciousness. I know more good and godly gifts await from the Father of lights with whom there is no variation or shifting shadow (James 1:17). Thank You for the forever gift of you, Abba.
Thank You that I can use this pain of separation, this sacred trust, to comfort others, too (2 Corinthians 1:3-5). Thank You that this pain, this sacred trust, deepens my appreciation for the sacrifice of Your Son to save me. And because of Your gift, I am compelled to share Him with others. This pain, this sacred trust, lifts my gaze to eternity--to my real home in heaven with You where no sad separations will take place for those who love You and are called according to Your purpose (Romans 8:28).
Keep my heart tender, Abba. Always moving in Your direction. Always bowed before Your throne. Always clinging to the Cross. Always rejoicing in God my Savior. Always leading others to You.
Then this pain, this sacred trust, will have served its purpose, now and for all eternity.
