Tuesday, March 1, 2016

A Time To..

At times, I have needed to transplant my flowers, or to divide them to ensure their growth. That process always begins with uprooting. So here I am, out of pure obedience, not from desire or goal-setting, but in a longing to obey, uprooting this blog. I'm not sure what this will look like down the road, I only know that it, that I, will be lavished in love.
According to Ecclesiastes, there is a season for everything, including a time to plant and a time to uproot. My Father has me in a season of uprooting and tearing down. Tearing down pride and selfishness. Uprooting control. This has been an eye-opening, humbling process and one that has been overflowing with grace and the forgiveness of my Father. I am so very grateful.
I am humbled by the love and grace, the prayers and support, that you have poured out upon me since I began this process of sprinkling words across a page. Thank you. My prayer is that all these squiggles and lines that I have cast out like seeds being carried in the wind, will give glory to my Sovereign God. He alone is worthy.
Blessings to you!
Hugs! Hugs! Deb

Tuesday, February 16, 2016

Empty Now Full

Her seat is empty
His shirts are gone
Her sweater’s unraveling
Her booties have long been packed
Her laughter’s silenced
His running’s ceased
The babe has no more crying
She's in no more pain
His voice it still echoes
Her love continues to ripple
She's a sweet reminder that, God, He hears my heart
He's a gift of dreams, of blue eyes and boys
And her
She has taught me lessons, of life and walking unafraid

In loving memory of:
Ellie 7-19-91 -- 7-20-91
Josh 2-8-85 -- 6-30-01
Ruth 10-30-81 -- 2-17-15

Monday, February 15, 2016

The Last Time

She came home for the last time. Could not walk through the doors. She was carried, both in and out. She entered warm, blood still flowing through veins that had been cluttered with cells, wayward. She did not hesitate to lay upon her bed, the throne of grace where many came to pay homage to one they loved.
With each passing day, there had been less of her. Each hour you knew there was this steady pulling, away.
Oh, not that she was eager to go, or even wanting to. Even so, there was eagerness, if only in those cells, consuming, seeking more. Of her. Snatching breath. Snatching hope.
And we sheltered and nurtured. We whispered and wept. There was singing mingled with laughter. Love casting its cloak over all.
She? She was wrapped in a steadfastness, a willingness to experience and wring out all of the life she could. Until her words slurred. Until no words remained, only the shattering of one more breath into the silence that reigned.
And soon, sooner than any of us dreamed or ever, ever wanted, even her breath left, leaving behind a shell of what once was. A daughter. A sister. A lover. A friend.
She was carried once more, stiff and still, leaving for the last time, wrapped in sorrow’s beauty, elegantly bound in a steadfast love which could not end.