You won't get it till you get it.

I was driving back to San Antonio from visiting my parents during the Thanksgiving holiday. Most predominately on my mind was my last moment with my mom.
When I am down, she becomes my shadow - I can't go anywhere without her hardly and when she went to bed early she had to get up several times to make sure I was still there. So Sunday morning when I put a few things into my car preparing to leave right after they left for church my mom followed me back and forth.

Finally, I stopped and we just stood outside together. She commented on the trees not having bark, two branches that were dying, and how there were a lot of cars at a neighbors house. Dad came out, told me to lock up the house behind me and we said a quick see you later so mom wouldn't catch on that I wouldn't be there when she got back.

By the time I made it back up the steps to the house I could hardly breathe it hurt so badly. I sagged against the wall and wept for my mothers constant misery.

Then I got up and I went to church.

As we sang and older song in the service one of the verses said for us to forget about ourselves and magnify the Lord and as I sang those words in my heart I realized how easy it is for me to magnify my problems, my heartaches, my whatever - until I can't see God anymore.

But on that drive home I realized something amazing surrounded the ache of grief in my heart and it was joy. Joy in the greatness of a God that is bigger than whatever troubles me. Joy that is stronger than pain. Joy that is brighter than the darkness of grief. Joy that overwhelms despair with hope.

As I considered it and how I could tell the world about it I realized that something like that just doesn't make sense. It's incomprehensible that in the middle of something horrible something so wonderful could still overpower the grief of it. And I realized, no one can get this concept until they actually get it. Until you've seen the heartache and seen how much greater God is.

I'm sorry for the circumstances under which things like this have to be learned - but I'm less afraid of tomorrow knowing the things I've learned through suffering.

Interrupting the silence,

My dear friends,

It's amazing what can happen in 2 months time.

Thank you all for bearing with me in the silence. I have one post I feel compelled to write, possibly over this weekend, but for the time being the silence will continue a bit longer.
The last 2 months have been easily the most difficult in my entire life. Looking at the problems I'm facing, perhaps I've been a bit sheltered I suppose. I'm not homeless, and I do still have my job. So while it is the most difficulty I've ever faced - I have no selfish notions that things couldn't be worse or that others aren't suffering far more dearly tonight.

In and amongst those difficult times is the fact that this is my last holiday season with my "family". As soon as the holidays have ended, I will make one special trip back North to assist my dad in placing mom in a home. Ahh, there they are, the familiar tears. The nursing home is as entirely necessary as it could be. There are no other options. From the phone calls I've attempted to handle, I can tell it is pretty close to a miracle my dad has lasted this long.

I've sat here tonight, simply listening to my Gather Homecoming dvd called "Heaven". I say I'm listening to it, but in reality I've only backtracked over and over again to listen to David Phelps sing "No More Night".

I long for a day with no more night.

I have much to say. But for awhile, the words in my mind changed directions so quickly; it certainly helped solidify the decision to not blog for awhile. I've even prayed for a strong Christian that could come along side me and I could just talk to. But, seeing as I've never settled into a home church here, along with the events of the past 2 months - I'm settled to simply resolving things between myself and God.

The words have settled down a bit for me, but I've realized that some of this I need to simply hold quietly within my heart.

All that to say, that I appreciate that you read my blog. I appreciate that you let me be a small part of your life, to be one of your stops as you come to see what I might say or do next. And I hope you know I have not stopped blogging. I will be back, it's quite possible that it may not be until after I've seen my mother safely into a nursing home after the holidays. But inbetween, I do expect at least one more post simply because it's nearly written in my mind, I just need to write it down for you to read.

I'm hurting, but I'm not without hope. I weep with grief and stress and sorrow, but I weep with the confidence that one day I will live in the light of the risen Lamb. And that one day there will be no more night, no more pain, no more crying again.