Please God, show us the rainbow

Up and down, angry, confused, befuddled, tears, hurt, pain, questioning, numb, and the list continues. We humans are dealing with all of these emotions, as we reel in the past week's loss of a precious child. We search for reasons to comfort, we want to understand the mind of God on this, we cry because there is no other way to deal with the vacuum that is left by such devastation.
I think that last time I really had this out of control, "this can't be happening", feeling was on 9/11, but this is more personal. It is a friend and sister in the Lord who has had two planes crash into her home. The first bomb is the battle that her first born is fighting through, the battle of her lifetime: brain cancer. The second fatal explosion was the loss of her unborn child this past week. Both have left an indelible mark, and deep scar that will remain forever.
So many people have expressed so much mourning and loss for this family, complete strangers for the most part. The humanness of this has transected all back grounds and has challenged even the deepest and strongest faith in God.
Oh God, please if you read blogs, show us something in all of this that represents the rainbow, that shines like Resurrection Sunday, that demonstrates that You alone are glorified and victorious. We humans can't understand this and we are hurting. Please my Lord, read this cry from many human hearts and show us your loving, gracious, merciful hand in a situation that seems like You weren't around on Thursday last.

Sometimes it just won't make sense

There is a time for everything, yet it seems most of this time doesn't make sense. This time
on earth is cloudy with a chance of confusion and only the lamp to light our feet.

My dear friend's unborn baby died last night. My dear sweet sister has
been in the battle of a life time for the life of her oldest daughter. Little Lauren
is battling a brain tumor, and now Hilary and Gordon are battling the darkness
of losing this precious baby. And all we can do is battle on our knees for them
against the prince of darkness who comes to rob, steal and destroy.
I can't wrap my brain around this. But I do know that I must continue to
pray for them, so that the mortal enemy of their souls won't get a foot hold.

It is a time to pray. It is a time to seek God's eternal kingdom, where every tear
will be wiped away. There is a growing desire for living outside of time, where
the life's pain can't reach and where holy perfection resides.

A Time for Everything
There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven:
a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot,
a time to kill and a time to heal, a time to tear down and a time to build,
a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance,
a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them, a time to embrace and a time to refrain,
a time to search and a time to give up, a time to keep and a time to throw away,
a time to tear and a time to mend, a time to be silent and a time to speak,
a time to love and a time to hate, a time for war and a time for peace.

But for now, as life continues to not make sense and death continues to bite and sting, we must find time to pray.

Never to Return to Neverland

I have been letting my first born go from the moment I knew she was to "be" and learning to leave her in the loving and ever present hands of God. And yet, as she has physically gone away to college, I find myself having to place her on the altar again and I am faced with a very real physical and emotional pain that sends me to my knees trusting her to God's perfect and loving care.

It isn't a matter of worry for her safety or even her walk with the Lord, but a matter of cutting the very heart strings, the "Umbilical Cord", that we have shared through daily living and loving and learning together. Nothing can really prepare a mom for the amputation that occurs as she watches her child learn to fly. There is an actual cutting that takes place and the blood and tears she thought she once shed for her child seems to be a mere paper cut in comparison to the surgical procedure that occurs when that child becomes all grown up. Just as it hurts to birth a baby, the leaving the nest is also a birthing process and the labor pains are difficult at times. Only this time, instead of having a precious newborn lying in her arms, she is left emptied armed and watching as the newborn walks away as an adult, never to return again as she once was.

It is part of life, and yet, as with all things, the joy of childhood is balanced with the pain of growing up and never returning to Neverland. A corner is turned, and though that little girl looks more and more like you did at that age, she will show small glimmers of what was and the sweetness of her girlhood, yet she will never really be that person again. She will become a woman, molded by her childhood and reflecting her parents, but she will be her own person, her own "masterpiece" created before hand to do good works for God.

This is really what we strive for as parents, our children following in the footsteps of the Savior, as their feet turn away from home. Yet the pride we have in seeing this come to fruition does not dull the pain much in the letting go and again we find ourselves following the footsteps of the Savior, trying to lean on Him through this transition period. I wonder as I watch my daughter leave home and the pain of separation, knowing it is only miles and days, not eternity, what must God the Father have felt as He let His Son walk out the door and become a baby with a death sentence on His head. Did Abba also feel this type of pain? He spoke as a proud daddy over His Son while Jesus walked on earth, but was there also a sense of pride, watching Him leave His heavenly home, knowing the path that this Son was about to live and fulfill. I think God the Father must have felt a little of what I am feeling now. I know that the future is in God's hands and that my girl is also under His protective wing; so as I weep, missing my friend, I trust God with my heart as well, to care for it, as He cares for my girl.

Nothing can prepare one's heart for the labor pains that come with a child leaving home except to continually go to the Father and trust Him with His Daughter, His workmanship: my daughter, my child, my pride and joy.

Life is all about the wait

I waited patiently for the Lord, He inclined and heard my cry....
Life is all about the wait.
God is about Glory.
My life brings Him glory only when I wait on Him.
To live a glorifying life and a life that glorifies, means I must live in patient waiting on God.
Waiting for His good pleasure.
Waiting for His direction.
Waiting to serve Him.
Waiting to "be" for Him.
Waiting to "do" for Him.
Waiting to hear from Him.
Waiting to see Him.
I don't have to wait to pray to Him, for He is always available.
But do I make Him wait for me?
I am really that arrogant to make Him wait?
Yet, God is gracious and merciful and does patiently wait for me, to get my act together and stop doing my way, my things, and get back into waiting on the Lord.
Waiting...like a server at a restaurant. Waiting hand and foot for the Creator of the universe. Waiting for the Lover of my Soul. Waiting for the Author of my life.
What is the rush? Why not wait patiently for the Lord? Doesn't He have my end in sight?
Wait on the Lord, I say wait on Him....and live!