Sowing Tears ~ Reaping Joy

One year ago today I came home after three months in intensive care following once-in-lifetime open-heart surgery.

God has showered his mercy upon us and brought us all home. 

His praise is on our lips.

We dream,

laughter fills our mouths,

shouts of joy are on our tongues,

we proclaim the great things God has done. 

We can look back on times of lament and recall how God pours out His mercy, and know that His mercy and steadfast love will follow us all the days of our lives. 

Lament is a song in our soul—

played in the hauntingly beautiful minor key;

the part in which we weep. 

Followed by the shouts of joy;

the dance when we rise up with praise and thanksgiving to the Lord.

The music of mercy and grace, tears and joy never ends;

keeping the rhythm of life steady, bringing us home. 

This day we pause,

sing a lament,

and praise the Lord:

we have sown in tears,

we shall reap shouts of joy.

A Light unto My Path

When you are not sure how to move forward, walk in the Light.

The Light leads to life.

Eighteen months ago, when trilliums carpeted forest floors, the heart doctor told me to stop taking hikes in the woods; my heart couldn't take the strenuous activity. It was hard news to digest. He really wasn't sure any surgeon could do what my heart needed.

By the time the trilliums had faded and children were jumping into lakes or running through splash pads, my cardiologist had put me in touch with Dr David. He was willing to take me on—if tests proved my body may have a fighting chance. It was highly unlikely.

Weeks after we went through with the surgery, when the leaves had changed from green to gold and red, Dr David was making his daily rounds. He admitted, when he had me open on the operating table what he found proved that the tests did not reveal the true condition of my heart. If they had, he would not have been able to confidently proceed with surgery because of how grave my situation really was.

The Light was guiding my path all along.

For four months I was attached to oxygen and during those months I grieved that I was not able to hike in the woods.

When I arrived home after 80 days in ICU, I had strength enough to climb four stairs, one slow step after the other. The winter was so frigid, my oxygen line would freeze, but I had set a goal to get out into the great outdoors for I truly believed it would help my physical and emotional recovery. 

Putting one foot in front of the other is all you have to do to move forward. There are dips and set-back that feel like giants leap backward, but one step at a time is how you run in this race of life. 

Always looking unto Jesus; the Everlasting Light

Last week, the cardiologist said my heart should be able to handle small hikes once again. Slow and steady. One small step at a time. 

Who could have ever imagined all those many moons ago that I would take my first nature hike with my family on a first week of November—so warm that it may break records? The sun kissed our faces today and we breathed in the musty fallen leaves that now carpet the ground.

We looked high into the bare branches and low at the moss covering the rocks. We listened as the brook babbled. We slowed down and focused on the beauty all around us. We gratefully received the sheer grace of it all.

I came home weary and refreshed. Hushed. Exhilerated. Humbled.

God's mercy is ever new. His faithfulness never fails.

The Little One gives thanks at the dinner table today. She thanks God for the hike, for her family, all the things He has made—the flowers, the birds, all creation. And all these months have passed and she still mutters thanks for: "the Doctor who helped my beautiful Mom so she could take care of me. She loves me so much. Thank you for being with her in the hospital to save her life."

I whisper, Amen, humbled once again.

Ever thankful to God that He leads me beside still, refreshing waters.

He restores my soul.

He leads me in paths of righteousness for His name's sake.

He is with me. He comforts even when I walk in the valley of the shadow of death.

His goodness and mercy, His steadfast love follows me all the days of my life.

His Light leads me on. One step of faith at a time.

{Photography helps me stop and focus on the beauty surrounding me, to catch the light, pay attention. When I look at life through the lens, it stirs up the deeper, hidden parts of the bigger picture.
To be outdoors in a great wood, capturing my children running free under a canopy of trees, climbing old mills, and shaking trees to make leaves fall like rain was absolute grace that flows steady from the hand of God.}

Hope for Broken Hearts ~ Even When Faced with Death

My heart was broken last year and all we could do was hope and wait.

The best heart surgeon in the world broke my sternum, dug around hard cemented radiated-dead flesh to fix my heart that was ready to quit any day. He didn't know if my heart could heal from all that breaking. We could only hope and wait for the healing to come.

For weeks following surgery, I didn't have the strength to fight; I was merely existing as though buried deep already in all the dark. I would cry out: "to live is Christ and to die is gain." My desire was, "to be with Christ, for that is far better."

Then, I wanted to go back, if I could—like the Israelites had wanted to return to Egypt—and refuse the risky surgery; it was much easier to surrender to what had become familiar than to move forward. Quitting is the easy way out. In my complaining and muttering, I was giving in to easy.

Until I was pricked in my heart, convicted of how much I was grumbling about all this hard, dark life I was living in an intensive care unit, away from my children. When, all along, the Lord had provided this way through and would continue to lead me and would never leave me. I confessed, repented, and faced the dark, cold, lonely days of recovery with renewed hope, waiting on the Lord. Trusting and giving thanks in all circumstances, rejoicing that it would give others "ample cause to glory in Christ Jesus, because of my coming to you again."

I was told it would all take time. But, the passing of time is slow when the days are hard and healing is long. Winter dragged on but hope never ran out. 

Spring did come as sure as new seasons always do, and I could have wept to stand helpless and watch the wild rabbits chew off all the young tulip shoots when the long winter finally gave up to warmer days. Only a few tulips had survived.

Flowers fade. Hearts break.

But, there in the darkness, through all the storms, hope is sure.

Even when life doesn't turn up the way we plan, our hope is secure in the One who died, was buried and rose again.

When the apples were red and ripe on the trees, I bought more bulbs to plant in the front garden. Time ticks on, steady. Some days now race by. I thought we were too late to put these bulbs into the ground—September marched past and October refused to stick around any longer than her set 31 days despite my longing for more.

My heart continues to heal the doctor says. The thing we waited for, hoped for, is happening.

Life is hard. Waiting, suffering, healing, yes they are all hard, but there is always hope.

So today, after we heard the results from my latest heart echo, we stirred up the soil in the front garden as the sun gently beat down on our backs like a warm embrace for early November, and we planted.

Her Daddy grabbed the tools and she took hold of the bag of tulip bulbs and buried them in the warm dirt. Fifty bright red blooms shall break through the cold dark earth when another winter melts into another spring.

My son tells me tonight during his second bedtime snack, between bites of apple, "Mom, you how I said last week that I didn't miss you that much last year when you were in the hospital? Well, I did, but I think I was able to go on because God calmed me. If every day I thought about how you could die, I don't think I could have handled it—I wouldn't have been able to eat, I would have been exhausted. But, God helped me."

There is no doubt that dark, uncertain days and hard, heart-breaking circumstances will come. Don't lose heart. Wait. Hope. 

"He gives power to the faint, and to him who has no might he increases strength. Even youths shall faint and be weary,and young men shall fall exhausted; 

but they who wait for the LORD shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint."

We wait…

strengthened by God, helped and sustained by his steadfast love.

We hope…

And my broken heart keeps on healing, held by our only Hope. 

{for more background to this narrative, click here.}

When The Son's Light Shines As Hope {Words of Life Wednesday ~ A Link-up}

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{Also linking with Coffee For Your Heart}

After a long day, my husband walks in from work and picks up the hydro bill that I had set down on the bed only four hours before. Who wants to think about bills on a Monday? The way they roll in as steady as the waves out from sea they leave you broken on the shore if you don't stay riding on top of them.

"Oh, the hydro bill came." he mutters mostly to himself. "Always on time. The rain cloud in the day."



The words are just out of his mouth and hanging heavy in the room like dripping denim on the clothesline, when our baby comes looking for her daddy. Well, she is four years old after all, but she's still our baby.

"Hey, Sunshine."

He drops the bill, picks up our little delight in his strong hands, and tenderly looks down into her giggling eyes, "Enough about rain clouds when sunshine just entered the room."

She is stretching out a whole foot on either end from his arms with her ponytail swaying at the top end, her red shoes slipping from her toes, and her hands, all sticky from the popsicle she was sucking that apparently melted all over her, sticking straight up.

"You used to fit in these arms. What happened?" She soaks up the loving attention from her daddy. She missed him all day and now that she knows he's home, she runs off to wash the sticky from her hands and do important four year old things. Like play outside under the blazing sun that poked out from behind the rain cloud.

There's only been about three blinks between thoughts, nothing much has changed in the atmosphere, other than a shift in perspective.



I've been walking under a rain cloud (and I'm not talking about the steady bills that keep on crashing in and weigh you down) while looking for the sunshine to reappear. 

I've been inwardly groaning waiting for the ache to pass.

It won't.

The groaning is here to stay.

This body is longing for its resurrected body. This is only the long labouring stage of being made ready.

There is pain and suffering in this world just as there is pain in childbirth. It's all because of the curse when sin entered the world through Adam.

I don't wrestle with the why.  Suffering is a part of our lives here. We all have suffering. But how do we endure to the end?

When the ache is so much it makes you go numb?

When the agony is enough to make you want this cup to pass?

When you know this is the way that God is working to conform you more into the likeness of His Son?

We groan, and we endure.

But, this is how we shift our perspective; this is how we hope: we believe in God's promises.



We see the sunshine poke through the rain clouds. Even more, we see the rainbow arch above us because of the refraction, reflection, and dispersion of the sun's light in the rain.

There are dark days, but the light illuminates promises of hope stretched across from one end of the hopeless situation to the other. 

When things in life seems hopeless; when the rain clouds come, when there is nothing left to hope for, look for the sunshine. And there you will see the rainbow.

In hope believe against hope.

Keep believing when there is no reason to hope.

In hope [Abraham] believed against hope, that he should become the father of many nations, as he had been told, “So shall your offspring be.” He did not weaken in faith when he considered his own body, which was as good as dead (since he was about a hundred years old), or when he considered the barrenness of Sarah’s womb. No unbelief made him waver concerning the promise of God, but he grew strong in his faith as he gave glory to God, fully convinced that God was able to do what he had promised. {Romans 4:18-21}

When Abraham saw his own body as good as dead, he believed.

No unbelief made him waver.

When he gave the glory to God, he grew stronger in faith.

Are you groaning inwardly? Have you no reason left to hope?

Don't waver concerning God's promises.

In hope against hope believe.

Give glory to God.

Be fully convinced that God is able to do what he has promised.

Groan, but don't grow weary.

Despair, but don't give up. 

When life has left you hanging on the line, shift your perspective and you will rejoice in hope when there is no hope.

The Light always out shines the darkness. 

Look up and see the Light of the Son reflecting the glory of God.

He knows suffering and he endured because of the joy awaiting him.

He's carrying you in His nailed scarred hands.

Holding out His glorious hope while you groan in your own hopelessness.

***

An InLinkz Link-up

Pathway of Sorrow Leads to Stronger Faith {Words of Life Wednesdays ~ A Link-up}

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"In this you rejoice, though now for a little while, if necessary, you have been grieved by various trials, so that the tested genuineness of your faith—more precious than gold that perishes though it is tested by fire—may be found to result in praise and glory and honour at the revelation of Jesus Christ." {1 Peter 1:6-7} 

The old empty flower pot sits in the corner. Mostly forgotten. From where it came, I am not sure. It has a story of it's own, with the lines etched in and the bark worn away, but I only know a small part of it's past. Some creative person saw beauty in all the broken pieces and fashioned together something useful. Crafted beauty from all the ugly parts.

***

I know what it is to sit empty and feel forgotten. I know the pain of broken pieces and ugly parts.

You, too?

***

Suffering.

Grief.

Various trials.

Trouble.

Laid aside.

In sorrow

or pain

or sickness

or grief.

It may seem like there is no end.

You may feel you have been made for more than this.

Rest.

We are all but a vapour.

These difficulties will last a little while.

Rejoice.

Give thanks that this heaviness might be used to grow your faith into something far more precious than gold.

See that the pathway of sorrow leads to a stronger faith.

Results are of eternal value.

Allow this suffering to purify and burn away the dross and see what beauty remains.

May your genuine faith be found to result in praise, glory and honour to the One who suffered beyond any suffering we could even imagine.

“The way to stronger faith usually lies along the rough pathway of sorrow . . . I am afraid that all the grace that I have got out of my comfortable and easy times and happy hours, might almost lie on a penny. But the good that I have received from my sorrows, and pains, and griefs, is altogether incalculable . . . Affliction is the best bit of furniture in my house. It is the best book in a minister’s library. ” {Charles Spurgeon}

I know He will take the painful parts and purify them into beautiful praise.

***

May our suffering grow a stronger faith.

May our pain be found to bring praise.

May our hard times result in honour for all eternity

to the Lamb who was slain

as His scars remain.

***

{Email subscribers can click here to listen to "Pieces" by Meredith Andrews}

***

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{Also linking with Coffee For Your Heart}

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The Lover of My Life and Soul {Words of Life Wednesdays ~ A Link-up}

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We'd love to hear how God's Word has been nourishing you.}

They're all bundled up in a gold box tucked inside my antique chest down in the basement.

All those letters he wrote the first summer we were getting to know each other. He used bright coloured paper cut out in funky designs. Sometimes with homemade confetti to pour out surprise all over my lap as I ripped open the envelope with my trembling hands while my heart skipped a beat. He was miles away. When I walked the long lane to the mailbox and reached in and found my name scrawled out by his very hand I would long to know what words he folded up and sealed as our spring love began to blossom.

I'd take the stamped enveloped touched by many hands as it had travelled down through the post and see his name in the top left hand corner. Mine was in the centre. He was the sender of this carefully crafted letter and I was the young woman to whom it was addressed. 

I'd take the rest of the mail and drop it in the front hall and head for the meadow. I'd slip off past the back of the house, along the path by the pond, cross the bridge over the waterfalls, up through the wood and out to the swaying grass on the gentle rolling hills. Not until after I reached the rock in a little grove of trees would I tear into his words and devour them over and over.

That was almost eighteen years ago when I was soon to turn twenty. Roughly half my lifetime ago when we hardly knew each other. We were young and in a vulnerable new chapter in our budding love story and all we had to share that summer were words.  He signed his letters "In Christ's love", but he never wrote the bold words, never even spoke them until he slipped a diamond on my slender third finger on my left hand and told me he loved me. He desired to know me but never carelessly gave away words without committing to prove them with his life.

His life speaks of his love for me. Every day he tells me he loves me and not only with words. He still reveals his loves for me with surprises all through the for better or for worse, in sickness and in health. Our love has grown more intimate, more raw, more beautiful.

He still writes love letters with amazing surprises that make my heart skip beats. His words still speak of the ways he loves me.

I don't run up the to little grove of trees anymore. The last I checked the rock is all but hidden by the trees that have stood faithful and grown strong and tall through the years. Now he and I walk by the way together and I lay down beside him as we grow stronger in love through all the seasons.

This love speaks of a greater Love that came down. The way the Lover of my soul loved with His life makes my heart not only skip a beat but makes it completely new. 

The Word, the Alpha and the Omega, came and took on flesh and walked dusty roads to write his love by humbling himself to the point of death, even the death of a cross; the most excruciating way to die. He suffered the most cruel, degrading and humiliating way to bear the sin of those whose names would be written in the Lamb's book of life.

He records His love for us, page after page in the God-breathed writings carefully passed down through the ages for us. The message of his unfailing love for a fallen creation makes one wonder at His amazing grace.

He writes bold words, "For God so loved the world that He gave in only begotten Son that whosoever believes shall not perish but have everlasting life."

And we can run out through the woods and up to the meadows under the great expanse of the heavens and cherish these words that Love came down that we might have life and grow in an intimate oneness as the Bride of Christ. 

We'll unlock the treasures and tuck them in our hearts deep within our chests.

(also linking with Coffee For Your Heart)

An InLinkz Link-up

Taste and See the Glory of Christ {Meditation of My Heart Mondays}

"Father, I desire that they also, whom you have given me,

may be with me where I am, 

to see my glory that you have given me

because you loved me before the foundation of the world."

"Eternal Father, 

[Y]ou never had a beginning. You will never have an ending. You are the Alpha and the Omega. This we believe, because you have revealed it to us. Our hearts leap up with gratitude that you have opened our eyes to see that know that Jesus Christ is your eternal, divine Son, begotten, not made, and that you, O Father, and he, your Son, are one God. 

We tremble even to take such glorious truths on our lips for fear of dishonouring you with withering and inadequate words. But we must speak, because we must praise you. Silence would shame us, and the rocks themselves would cry out. You must be praised for who you are in the world you have made. And we must thank you because you have made us taste and see the glory of Jesus Christ, your Son. Oh, to know him! 

Father, we long to know him. Banish from our minds low thoughts of Christ. Saturate our souls with the Spirit of Christ and all his greatness. Enlarge our capacities to be satisfied in all that you are for us in him. Where flesh and blood are impotent, reveal to us the Christ, and rivet our attention and our affections on the truth and beauty of your all-glorious Son. 

And grant that whether rich or poor, sick or sound, we might be transformed by him and become and echo of his excellence in the world.

In Jesus' name we pray, amen."

~John Piper, Seeing and Savoring Jesus Christ