The Little Things

I don't want to appear ungrateful or to be complaining. I have used this blog in the past to journal about the many paths this life has taken me and the others here on the Ponderosa down.  And sometimes it's messy and sometimes it's ugly.  But I have confidence in the end that it will all be beautiful.

Yet the day to day can wear me down faster than when all my bigs were little.

Those of my friends who have children with struggles. Children who suffer from some sort of trauma. Do you ever just want to ditch it all in and run away? Run away where no one can find you? I am tired of hearing, " I hate you." Every single moment is filled with a fight. Every. Single. One. I am drop dead tired.

I find myself here today.

I have cried. I have prayed.

So today I turned to my Wall of Remembrance and read about the times I have journaled about the van God provided for us. Or the Happy Gotcha Day of each of my children. Or the money orders that came from anonymous people just when we needed it. Or someone that God put in our path to help steer our wayward lambs. I remember the day of my sweet daughter's baptism. I remember my 2 year old's cry for his mommy. I remember my oldest lamb's prayers when he was a tot. I remember all the believer's God has put in our lives and in our fledgling children's lives.

I remember God's faithfulness even when I am faithless. I struggle to believe. But like the Psalmist, I will remember.

A Piece of My Heart

It is not supposed to be this way! It's time to let one of my lambs out of the pasture and find his way, but this is not happening in a way that is peaceful, nor hopeful, humanly speaking. My lamb is 19 and feels ready to face the wolves and thorns out there.

Deep down inside, I know he is not ready.

He may end up on a steep precipice bleating for help.

Parenting these lambs is so difficult. I want to be that person reaching down to save him. I want to keep him from falling any farther. My heart breaks as choices are made despite the edge he sees. There is no face to this man reaching down to help, but I know the only face that belongs to him. My God. My Savior. My Shepherd. At times my belief that he will be saved waivers. My hope diminishes.

This week I heard a message about 1 Corinthians 13 expounding on what true agape love is. My whole life I have heard sermons describing love. I have attended wedding after wedding where this Scripture was read aloud. Beautiful.

But, listen to this. LOVE BELIEVES ALL THINGS! LOVE HOPES ALL THINGS!

Emotions entangle truth. They drown it out altogether sometimes. So I have to go back to the Word that is the Breath of Life. The Bread that satisfies. The Living Water that quenches. I must believe because I love. I must hope because I love.

The pig sty may have a new visitor eventually. But I BELIEVE that God will pluck him out and set him on the road back home. I have hope in my Heavenly Father.

The skies have flown him to another state all together. I thought there would be no goodbyes. No see you laters. No hugs. No thank yous. No peace. But at least, I did get a hug with a mumbled, "I love you too."

My God's people are everywhere. My prayer during this separation is that God will search him out and not let him rest. That God will be the Hound of Heaven pursuing him at every turn.

Please pray for him too.

I Will NOT Give Up!

"My plans are made. While I can, I sail east in the Dawn Treader. When she fails me, I paddle east in my coracle [small boat]. When she sinks, I shall swim east with my four paws, and when I can swim no longer, if I’ve not reached Aslan’s country, I shall sink with my nose to the sunrise."

These words were spoken by Reepacheep in the Narnia book, The Voyage of the Dawn Treader. When the warriors and the characters of the book are weary and wanting to give up, he reminds them of the final goal. 

We must keep our sights set! We must keep our aim on the eternal. This life becomes weary of suffering, of trials, of pain. We too often think, we can't keep going. But Jesus' promises are true.

Psalm 199:50 reminds us : "My comfort in my suffering is this: Your promise preserves my life."

He will not forget us, Beloved. When the ground gives way, He will catch us. When we take our last breath, He will welcome us. When we cry such tears we feel we are drowning, He counts all of our tears and knows. Knows how many we have shed. Knows the pain our hearts and bodies feel. Knows that we are but dust; frail and incompetent to continue on our own.

Beloved, we too, need to have our aim on Beulah Land! Our Great God and Father will welcome His children home at the end and we can have peace and hope now on the this side of eternity. He desires we use all the things He brings into our lives to bring Him glory and shine forth as shining gold. 

So, just like Reepacheep, no matter what obstacles come our way we keep going. We seek for strength from the the Almighty "Aslan".

Book Review - The Tank Man's Son

A story like no other.

Mark Bouman, author of The Tank Man's Son, endured more than most as a child of a dysfunctional father. He grew up in terror and fear, never knowing if and when the fury of his father would be unleashed! The heartache and physical pain he endured was difficult to read about, but so worth it in light of the end of the story. Tears flowed as I read about the redemption of Mark's soul, but even more tears flowed when I read how God used all the evil done against him to prepare him for the work the Lord had for him to do. Having access to great biographies like this, remind me (again) that the story is not over until death. God is still writing!

This true to life story is one of courage, faith, redemption and an amazing, accurate vision of the sovereignty of God. It is a modern day story of Joseph.

Truly, what man meant for evil, God meant for good.

An amazing story of love and forgiveness!

A must read!

Note: As part of the Tyndale Bloggers Network, I received a free copy of this book.

Pain Is Productive; Courage Turns to Encouragement

The last 6 years of our lives has seem to go at a snail's pace yet speed faster than a jet plane. Discouragement sets in; courage lifts us out. Our eyes wander from the cross to the darkness of the deepest pit. Yet, still His grace finds us.

Discouragement hit lately. The asking, "What if....." Wondering where the next leg of this journey will lead us.

But I am so thankful to the Lord that He helps us fight. Each time we fear, He reminds us He knows the outcome already and will be with us to face it. Each time we stumble in our own rebellious responses, He gently prods us back to His embrace. Our God is so good.

Recently I was able to write a brief synopsis of our journey in a pro-family magazine, called Above Rubies. As I wrote, I prayed. I prayed for the words to convey truth and honesty, yet humility and love. I prayed for those reading it. I asked the Lord to use it to encourage others going down the same path that we had traveled...and still are.

I have received emails from hurting parents. I have felt their pain. I have prayed for them.

I SEE!!!

I see how God does this thing. How He uses our lives to intersect with those going through similar pain. He shows such grace by using His clay pots. Some of us are cracked from such heat and the feelings of being dropped, although I personally know, I have never been out of the Savior's hand.

Wherever you may find yourself, friend; in whatever trial you are surrounded with, know He is there with you. Look around and see. There are others hurting like you are. Sometimes we are blinded while sitting in the heat, but at some point we must use the pain to encourage the body of Christ.

The Waiting

It arrived yesterday. I finished it today. I couldn't put it down.

Wow! Wow! Wow!

The Waiting, written by Cathy LaGrow, is a MUST READ! This heart wrenching story will stir every emotional bone in your body. Adoption is a subject close to my heart. Minka, also known as Minnie, is raped at 16 years old. She found out she was pregnant.

It was 1928.

Mrs. LaGrow is Minka's granddaughter. She writes this amazing story of love, betrayal, pain, loss and redeeming love in beautiful fashion. It is the story of a mother's pain in placing her baby in another mother's arms to raise and love, and then leading her life for a total of 96 years with this secret. Minka relies on the Lord for each day she lives and lives each day to her fullest. But still with a hole in her heart. Until that day, 80 years later when mother and daughter meet. As I read this book I couldn't help thinking about God's sovereignty. How He allowed this beautiful meeting to occur all those years later. How he orchestrated the events of both of their lives to flow strong with love and guidance from Him.

As I read the last chapter, I bawled my eyes out.

What a beautiful testimony of love! You feel the very heartbeat of this mother!

Whether you are an adoptive mother, birth mother, adoptee, or none of these, this book will inspire you to love better, to be thankful and to hold family closer than ever.

As a part of the Tyndale Bloggers Network, I received a free copy of this book.

I Had a Son Named Elisha

Ten years ago today, a 10 month old little boy was placed in my arms.

We named him Elisha.

He was a special needs baby who desperately needed a loving home. He was cross-eyed and had kidney failure. He couldn't turn over or hold his head up. But instantly, I was his mom. For the first time in my adoptive mothering I held him next to my bare chest and attempted to nurse him. I envisioned taking him to therapy, as I had done with some of my other lambs. I knew from experience love could conquer so much and his life would never be the same. His smile lit up his face. He had cute little dimples. His new family did nothing but dote on him from the time we brought him home from South Florida.

But our life was never the same.

On the third day of becoming his family, we received a dreaded phone call. Our attorney called to let us know that his birth mother called and changed her mind. (Florida Law states that if a baby is over 6 months old, she has 3 days to change her decision.)

My world crashed down around me. I held my dear Elisha all night and wept, not understanding why. Some dear friends took our older three children the next day and I said goodbye to my precious son, whom I had already born from my heart. My dear love took him and his possessions and met our attorney at the train station to hand him over to the woman who bore him. Mr. Cartwright had the perspective that I wish I could have had. As he handed my sweet Elisha to her, he spoke to her kindly and compassionately. He told her that there is Someone Who knows her pain. Someone Who gave up His only Son to death.

For Her. For Elisha. For the world.

And then proceeded to give her the Gospel message.

Days passed. The tears were fewer. Until 2 weeks later.

I received a telephone call from a detective. The words pierced my soul. My hands were shaking. "I am calling in reference to the death of an infant that has previously been in your care." WHAT!!!???!

Yes, Elisha was dead. Stories did not add up and there was an investigation of possible foul play. Pain ripped through my heart. The ending and outcome of this part of our story is still unknown. I never heard back as to what occurred.

On the other hand, I became angry. No, not a soul knew, but my own. I wrestled and wrestled. God was patient. I learned so much through this difficult time.

There are times in our lives when there are no answers. There is no understanding as to why. But one thing I learned is God is still to be trusted. Elisha is in a much better place than he would have been for the rest of his young days. I don't know why God chose to take him home. Even if someone else made the human decision to end his life, God still was sovereign over it.

Today as decisions need to be made concerning other things in my life, I can still trust my Creator.  I know pain seems so strong. But God's grace and love is stronger.

Who knows? Maybe the woman who carried Elisha and gave birth came to know my Savior through all of this. Though we will never know, GOD IS TRUSTWORTHY!

Mother: The Definition

(This an extremely honest post of my journaling through this difficult path. For eighteen years I have lifted up and praised the gift givers of my four precious lambs. I will continue to do so. But for today I lay my bare heart open.)

Two mothers means lots of questions and many mixed emotions.

My boy-man is caught up in these emotions.

And so am I.

I keep asking myself, "What makes a mother? A mom? A mommy?"

Giving birth is one aspect but essentially a small part. Eighteen years of being present. Changing diapers. Wiping noses. Mingling tears. Holding hands through the good and hard times. Hearing sweet words whispered in one's ear. Whispering "I love you too". Being there through the difficult, painful years of torn identity. 

Now before some of you misunderstand what I am saying, please let me explain. I have NO idea the immense pain one feels when giving birth then placing that bundle in someone else's arms. I can't even imagine being able to have the strength to do so. 

But I want to speak my heart today. Can one just expect to come back years later and talk about "being mom" and her "child" coming "home"?

These questions are on the tip of my heart all day. Every day.

And there may never be answers.

So as my wise pastor reminded me this week, "You have the opportunity to show forth the second greatest picture of the Gospel. The adoption of God's children. He reached down to save wretched sinners and adopt us not by anything we have done. ONLY BY UNCONDITIONAL LOVE!"

That's the kicker; the hardest thing in life, by far. To keep loving when rejected. 

In reality all the above issues come down to a heart issue. If Christ is central, others would be next. If Christ is Lord in the lives of everyone involved then there would be the ability to have positive resolutions. 

So today I pray for the hearts of those involved. That Christ would be Lord and Master.

I am confident Hoss will at some point truly remember who his "mother" is but until then I look to the cross.

Calling All Adoptive Parents....

There is a new resource that we have been told about. We have purchased it and now are reading through it together.

In the next few days and weeks, I will be "journaling" here, about this book. "Mr. Cartwright" and I are just in the first chapter, and had to stop for our eyes were overflowing with tears.

*Tears of identification
*Tears of joy...someone really understands and has wrote these thoughts down to help others.
*Tears of hurt.
*Tears of wonder of all that God has done.

Our family has been on this journey for many years, almost 18. We are coming out the other side (although it seems we are in a hexagon at times...which side are we coming out?) with our oldest crew, but our littlest, who is now 9, is really struggling. Each day holds pain for her and unknown for me. As I strive to take each, "out of the box" quality and action she exhibits, I give them to the Lord, but I also, see my actions in turn being changed and molded.

So, today, while reading this brought us to our knees....

"God reminds us that __________ is a Puebla by sovereign appointment."

Yes, God's hand placed them each here at a specific time with specific needs that we are to guide them through.

So, no matter who thinks what, we know we're doing what is best for ours

A Special 16th Birthday

Dear "Hoss",

Today is your 16th birthday. How I wish I could do more than just talk to you over some wires, but this is where we are. This is where God has us. This is the path, we say, "I trust Your plan, Father." My thoughts are going in many directions today. 

I think back on the day you were born. I hadn't seen you or held you, but I knew you had breathed air for the first time. You were being held by another. One who loved you and one who struggled in life. One who didn't have a Heavenly Father to guide her in dark paths. One who had no direction and felt hopeless. One who I am thankful to every day. One who I can guess is thinking of you today, too.

Five weeks later, you were place in my arms, a whopping 13 lbs. My first time at being a Mommy, without knowing the feelings of life giving birth, but knowing the feelings of a full and complete heart. My heart swelled at the love God placed in it for you, Little Bear. (I know you don't fit this description very well anymore, but you will always be my Little Bear.) You spoiled me rotten, sleeping the very first night for 12 hours, and every night after that. You talked and cooed at just 8 weeks, once so loud that while I was on the phone with Auntie Jen, she couldn't hear me. As you grew, and I mean grew, the bond we shared was like nothing I had every experienced. You were thoughtful, kind, generous and so loving from a very young age. Your prayers to God were so amazing. You thought through so much at such a young age.

 I remember well the night you asked us why you looked so different from us...a mere three years old. I, also, remember well your response as we told you about adoption. You became sad. I asked you why you were sad. You said, "I'm sad because I wasn't born in your tummy." I knew at that instant we were Mommy and Son. 

I still know this. You have grown into a handsome young man. You have so many talents and abilities that God has given you. The path we have tread for 3 years now is not the one I would have chosen for you, but I am confident of this: God has you on this path. He is turning ashes in beauty. He is turning pain into joy. He is molding your heart in areas I could never mold. He WILL use this uncomfortable season for His glory. 

Son, I love you. My heart still swells with pride and joy for you. You are my first-born from my heart. You have taught me so much as a mom that I could never learn otherwise. You are my cubby-bear, and will always be.

We, Not He and I

Thank you to my friend for sending this my way. I had not yet heard this song. As I listened and read the lyrics, my prayer is that the "we" will include my "Hoss" . It has been a long road, but what I have come to realize is that God's plan is not mine. The road we travel seems so deep at times.

And lonely.

And sad.

And full of bruises and skinned knees.

But our God is so much more concerned with our Spiritual walk than our physical needs. And, boy, does He know how much Mr. Cartwright and I need to continue to be conformed to His image.

Yesterday I heard this quote from Paul Pennington, "Adoption is not about meeting your own needs. It is about being conformed to the image of Christ." I must remember this.

More Tears

No letters or phone calls. This is what we have been told today regarding "Hoss".

We must love from afar.

He is rejecting any love from us and my heart hurts. Badly.

The letters coming from him are full of anger, hurt, pain and more anger.

So our response must be love full of compassion. Not for his sin, but for his relationship as SON!

For he will be this forever. No matter what he thinks.

This I know. He is our SON!

Though this parent-child thing is in question, friendship will be possible one day.

My Heart Weeps

How can I get you to see, "Hoss"?

How can I take the pain?

How can I show you the truth?

Now, I bend my knee and say, "I can't".

I know Jesus is the only One to do these things for you.

As we talked to you on Saturday (our first phone call since you left one month ago), my eyes filled. I can hear the hurt and I hear the anger. So for now and always, we pray:

Lord God, Sovereign One of the universe and of my precious son,

We want Your will, but so often ours comes into play. We want restoration in our home soon, but we know you will use this separation in our lives and his. May our pain be healed by complete surrender to you. You are good, Jesus. You love us. You are our Jehovah Jireh. You are our compassionate Creator. Take our son's hard heart and soften it; mold it; strip it of himself and give him a passion for you. You alone can do this, Great God.

Born From My Heart

Our life together did not begin in the normal place. There were no nurses around or machines beeping. I met you, dear son, in the middle of the local airport. You were placed in my arms from the arms of the one who birthed you. And from her, exuded love; love for you. So much love that she made the hardest choice anyone is asked to make.

There have been times in our life together that it seems almost impossible that I did not birth you. For the love that flows from my heart is so deep and wide and strong that I question, "What can possibly make the difference?" I did birth you, just not from my womb.

No matter what has happened in the past couple of years, the love I have for you, son, remains strong and in tact. Nothing you ever do or say can sever this. I know you are working through all sorts of thoughts, feelings and wounds that bring forth pain. But know that I am here...always.

Dad and my prayer for you is that you stretch those wings and soar with your Heavenly Father directing you wherever you turn.

He has ordered your steps from the moment you were conceived to the moment you were carried off of that plane. From the time you took your first steps to the day you asked me why you were so different from us. From the the first fish you caught to the first test you took. From the decisions you made that have brought about consequences to the day the Lord took your beautiful Gran home to be with him. I know that news hurt you. And now even as you walk about the campus of Agape, He is with you. He is working all things out for your good.

I love you, "Hoss". But your Heavenly Father loves you more.

Do You Hear It?

If you listen real closely you can hear...

the plates crashing on the walls.

the wailing sobs of a woman in deep agony.

the frustrated pleas of a soul being crushed.

the constant, "WHY, Lord?"

AND YET, you can also hear...

complete surrender to the Lord spoken with deep prayers.

many utterances to Jesus confessing anxieties and distrust.

"Thank you, Master, for these afflictions."

My mind has been so full of confusing thoughts throughout the last year. And many days I have done or said all of the above.

So a dear friend of mine (you know who you are, sister) has helped me to weed through my desperately deceitful heart and ask the hard questions...

"Am I angry at God?"

"Am I shying away from God's Word because I really deep down inside don't want to commune with the God who allowed these things in my life?"

I am so thankful to the Lord for His precious promises that will never fail. I realize my Savior knows every pain and hurt in my heart, but I am also, fully aware, that I must completely give all my hurt to the Lord and not respond with fear or sin. God's Word never fades away. Blessed be His name.

The Flax (Part Two)

The Flax
by
Hans Christian Andersen
(1849)

(Part Two)

Years passed away, and at last the linen was so worn it could scarcely hold together. “It must end very soon,” said the pieces to each other; “we would gladly have held together a little longer, but it is useless to expect impossibilities.” And at length they fell into rags and tatters, and thought it was all over with them, for they were torn to shreds, and steeped in water, and made into a pulp, and dried, and they knew not what besides, till all at once they found themselves beautiful white paper. “Well, now, this is a surprise; a glorious surprise too,” said the paper. “I am now finer than ever, and I shall be written upon, and who can tell what fine things I may have written upon me. This is wonderful luck!” And sure enough the most beautiful stories and poetry were written upon it, and only once was there a blot, which was very fortunate. Then people heard the stories and poetry read, and it made them wiser and better; for all that was written had a good and sensible meaning, and a great blessing was contained in the words on this paper.

“I never imagined anything like this,” said the paper, “when I was only a little blue flower, growing in the fields. How could I fancy that I should ever be the means of bringing knowledge and joy to man? I cannot understand it myself, and yet it is really so. Heaven knows that I have done nothing myself, but what I was obliged to do with my weak powers for my own preservation; and yet I have been promoted from one joy and honor to another. Each time I think that the song is ended; and then something higher and better begins for me. I suppose now I shall be sent on my travels about the world, so that people may read me. It cannot be otherwise; indeed, it is more than probable; for I have more splendid thoughts written upon me, than I had pretty flowers in olden times. I am happier than ever.”

But the paper did not go on its travels; it was sent to the printer, and all the words written upon it were set up in type, to make a book, or rather, many hundreds of books; for so many more persons could derive pleasure and profit from a printed book, than from the written paper; and if the paper had been sent around the world, it would have been worn out before it had got half through its journey.

“This is certainly the wisest plan,” said the written paper; “I really did not think of that. I shall remain at home, and be held in honor, like some old grandfather, as I really am to all these new books. They will do some good. I could not have wandered about as they do. Yet he who wrote all this has looked at me, as every word flowed from his pen upon my surface. I am the most honored of all.”

Then the paper was tied in a bundle with other papers, and thrown into a tub that stood in the washhouse.

“After work, it is well to rest,” said the paper, “and a very good opportunity to collect one’s thoughts. Now I am able, for the first time, to think of my real condition; and to know one’s self is true progress. What will be done with me now, I wonder? No doubt I shall still go forward. I have always progressed hitherto, as I know quite well.”

Now it happened one day that all the paper in the tub was taken out, and laid on the hearth to be burnt. People said it could not be sold at the shop, to wrap up butter and sugar, because it had been written upon. The children in the house stood round the stove; for they wanted to see the paper burn, because it flamed up so prettily, and afterwards, among the ashes, so many red sparks could be seen running one after the other, here and there, as quick as the wind. They called it seeing the children come out of school, and the last spark was the schoolmaster. They often thought the last spark had come; and one would cry, “There goes the schoolmaster;” but the next moment another spark would appear, shining so beautifully. How they would like to know where the sparks all went to! Perhaps we shall find out some day, but we don’t know now.

The whole bundle of paper had been placed on the fire, and was soon alight. “Ugh,” cried the paper, as it burst into a bright flame; “ugh.” It was certainly not very pleasant to be burning; but when the whole was wrapped in flames, the flames mounted up into the air, higher than the flax had ever been able to raise its little blue flower, and they glistened as the white linen never could have glistened. All the written letters became quite red in a moment, and all the words and thoughts turned to fire.

“Now I am mounting straight up to the sun,” said a voice in the flames; and it was as if a thousand voices echoed the words; and the flames darted up through the chimney, and went out at the top. Then a number of tiny beings, as many in number as the flowers on the flax had been, and invisible to mortal eyes, floated above them. They were even lighter and more delicate than the flowers from which they were born; and as the flames were extinguished, and nothing remained of the paper but black ashes, these little beings danced upon it; and whenever they touched it, bright red sparks appeared.

“The children are all out of school, and the schoolmaster was the last of all,” said the children. It was good fun, and they sang over the dead ashes,—

“Snip, snap, snurre,
Basse lure:
The song is ended.”
But the little invisible beings said, “The song is never ended; the most beautiful is yet to come.”

But the children could neither hear nor understand this, nor should they; for children must not know everything.

The Flax (Part One)

The Flax
by
Hans Christian Andersen
(1849)

(Part One)

The flax was in full bloom; it had pretty little blue flowers as delicate as the wings of a moth, or even more so. The sun shone, and the showers watered it; and this was just as good for the flax as it is for little children to be washed and then kissed by their mother. They look much prettier for it, and so did the flax.

“People say that I look exceedingly well,” said the flax, “and that I am so fine and long that I shall make a beautiful piece of linen. How fortunate I am; it makes me so happy, it is such a pleasant thing to know that something can be made of me. How the sunshine cheers me, and how sweet and refreshing is the rain; my happiness overpowers me, no one in the world can feel happier than I am.”

“Ah, yes, no doubt,” said the fern, “but you do not know the world yet as well as I do, for my sticks are knotty;” and then it sung quite mournfully—

“Snip, snap, snurre,
Basse lurre:
The song is ended.”

“No, it is not ended,” said the flax. “To-morrow the sun will shine, or the rain descend. I feel that I am growing. I feel that I am in full blossom. I am the happiest of all creatures.”

Well, one day some people came, who took hold of the flax, and pulled it up by the roots; this was painful; then it was laid in water as if they intended to drown it; and, after that, placed near a fire as if it were to be roasted; all this was very shocking. “We cannot expect to be happy always,” said the flax; “by experiencing evil as well as good, we become wise.” And certainly there was plenty of evil in store for the flax. It was steeped, and roasted, and broken, and combed; indeed, it scarcely knew what was done to it. At last it was put on the spinning wheel. “Whirr, whirr,” went the wheel so quickly that the flax could not collect its thoughts. “Well, I have been very happy,” he thought in the midst of his pain, “and must be contented with the past;” and contented he remained till he was put on the loom, and became a beautiful piece of white linen.
All the flax, even to the last stalk, was used in making this one piece. “Well, this is quite wonderful; I could not have believed that I should be so favored by fortune. The fern was not wrong with its song of

‘Snip, snap, snurre,
Basse lurre.’

But the song is not ended yet, I am sure; it is only just beginning. How wonderful it is, that after all I have suffered, I am made something of at last; I am the luckiest person in the world—so strong and fine; and how white, and what a length! This is something different to being a mere plant and bearing flowers. Then I had no attention, nor any water unless it rained; now, I am watched and taken care of. Every morning the maid turns me over, and I have a shower-bath from the watering-pot every evening. Yes, and the clergyman’s wife noticed me, and said I was the best piece of linen in the whole parish. I cannot be happier than I am now.”

After some time, the linen was taken into the house, placed under the scissors, and cut and torn into pieces, and then pricked with needles. This certainly was not pleasant; but at last it was made into twelve garments of that kind which people do not like to name, and yet everybody should wear one. “See, now, then,” said the flax; “I have become something of importance. This was my destiny; it is quite a blessing. Now I shall be of some use in the world, as everyone ought to be; it is the only way to be happy. I am now divided into twelve pieces, and yet we are all one and the same in the whole dozen. It is most extraordinary good fortune.”

...To be continued.

One Whole Year

Today is one year since my arms have been empty. I'm missing my oldest treasure.

He is gone, but not forever. God continues to work in his life, and our lives, teaching us so much about dependency on Him.

I am meditating on this today to keep my mind stayed on my Master:

Psalm 119:25-32

My soul cleaves to the dust;
Revive me according to Your word.
I have told of my ways, and You have answered me;
Teach me Your statutes.
Make me understand the way of Your precepts,
So I will meditate on Your wonders.
My soul weeps because of grief;
Strengthen me according to Your word.
Remove the false way from me,
And graciously grant me Your law.
I have chosen the faithful way;
I have placed Your ordinances before me.
I cling to Your testimonies;
O LORD, do not put me to shame!
I shall run the way of Your commandments,
For You will enlarge my heart.

Please continue to pray for "Hoss" as he sails through this year date. We want his heart to belong to Christ, completely surrendered. We need wisdom for making the decision of bringing him home. We need clear direction. Thank you for standing with the Puebla Ponderosa as we long for the day of reconciliation.

God is Very Near

...and yet there are so many times, He seems so very far.

The last year has been such a lonely road and yet, one that I have learned so much from my Heavenly Father.

So many days I cry out to Him wondering if He is tired of hearing the same prayer and feeling the same tears that seem to never dry up. The tears come mostly when I am listening for Him in His Word and speaking to Him in the early hours. The tears just keep coming. I know the bottle must be almost filled up by now.

Is this all part of healing?

Healing for this wounded heart seems like forever. But I know my Jesus holds me close and will not let me go.

My best friend, lover and provider reminds me of this as he holds me and lets me cry once again.

Mom's Surprise Meeting

Since mom's passing, there has been much time spent going through photos and in turn, many memories. This memory has again become vivid.

Five years ago, on March 17 to be exact, a little 10 month old came into our lives. We named him Elisha Daniel.

This was the same year, in February to be exact, that my parents and my sister and her family moved from "home" to Tennessee, which I know now they consider home.

This precious little boy had very special needs and we were so grateful to have the chance to raise him as our own and see what miracle God could do in his life, for we had already experienced God's amazing power in our precious daughter's life.

But, God had his own agenda. Due to the laws in Florida, because Elisha was over six months old, his birth mother had the option before three days was up, to ask for his return. We received that call at the 3 day mark. Up to this point in our lives, this was the hardest thing we had ever had to do. My beautiful husband did this alone, as I could not handle this seemingly inhumane act. And he did it with such grace, not leaving that meeting without sharing Jesus with his birth mother. His words were, "I know Someone who has done what you have done; giving up your son. He knows the hurt, but more than that, He gave up His son to die for you and me." These were words that I struggled to hear him say...for I was so hurt at what had just taken place.

Not thinking much more could go wrong, we received a telephone call from a detective the following week. "Elisha Daniel" had died....and there was an investigation.

We have never heard what transpired. But I know one thing. He has a home in heaven now.

Many thoughts transpired in my mind during that tremendous trial.
"If Elisha had grown up in that home, there might have never been a conversion and thus he would have most likely lived a very difficult life."
"I would then, never see him again."

But I know now, I will! What is even more amazing and comforting, is that Mom was never able to meet this precious boy. And as I have been talking with children and helping them deal with the loss of their Gran, I suddenly realized that she has met him, just not when and where I would have chosen. God deemed best that Heaven would be that perfect surprise meeting place.

Comfort alone has come from my Father in Heaven.