I’m learning a lot about trust lately. So many messages I’ve listened to this week and so many passages I’ve read in the Bible have reminded me this week what trust in the Lord is all about.

Trusting in a plan we cannot see is hard. I don’t understand the plan where my son never reaches 21, where I never get to see him again, where he doesn’t get to hug his little girl. But seriously, if I understood everything about God, wouldn’t that make him a very small God? I am certainly not one of the brilliant minds in the universe, so my understanding of God and his plan would just put Him into the “man behind the curtain” category; no omniscience, no omnipresence, no omnipotence…just some guy behind the curtain.

But that is not our God! He sees everything. He orchestrates everything. His plan is perfect. And, He is so immense and immeasurable that we will never understand everything about Him while we are on this side of Heaven.

My plan would have controlled everything in my little world, a picture of my own selfish desires. That is, until something went wrong or the rest of the world intruded, and then I could only blame myself for forgetting about everyone else and how they fit in. My plan would only work if I was the only person in the universe and even then, I am quite sure I would screw it up after only a few hours. (more…)

Another Gold Star mom recently sent me this link to a song that is so great. Sometimes the simplest explanations of God are the most reassuring. We sometimes lose sight of how basic God’s love for us is. This gal brings it home for us. Watch and listen and I’m sure you will agree.
Lynn

The build-up was big! London’s 2nd birthday! And it was the event of the month. There were lots of people, lots of food, and that amazing Minnie Mouse cake that Grandpa Mike decorated. Talk about presents! London will be the best dressed two year old with the greatest toys; Barbie, the Barbie Jeep, Barbie’s new outfit, books, clothes, games.

It was a great party. The only thing missing was Rhys. He would have loved this kind of thing. I am sure Rhys would have been busy shuttling between photo opportunities and making sure all of London’s toys were properly put together and functional. He probably would have made London model a new outfit or two. He might have told Michael, “Hey Dad, great decorating job. Ever considered a career in cake decorating? He He.”

But once again, the joy of the day is intermingled with a sadness that one can’t quite explain. No outsider would understand. It’s a feeling that you can’t quite put your finger on. For me, it became a rising sense that somehow I was just observing the event, wondering what Rhys would have been doing. I held back the tears that were so close to the surface and realized once again how much I miss my son.

I feel as though life is being lived in front of me but I am stuck on some plane of life where time is frozen, just like my son’s life. It is often just like looking through a window. I realize the people I am seeing are a part of my life but I still can’t touch them. They are so close, only a pane of glass away, but the physical connection is not there.

I’m not sure Michael feels the same way I do, but I do know that for both of us, we often feel as though we are only on the fringes of a life that was meant to be so much part of the fabric of our lives. We realize that this is one of the tougher work assignments in life. Perhaps the lesson in all of this is that anything worth having is something that is worth working for. A close relationship with our granddaughter is something we want very much and we will work at. We hope that as she gets older she will understand where we fit into the picture and will want to know more about Rhys’ life. We pray that we can always be close in distance and relationship. We pray too, that we can share with London the joy of life that Rhys had. London already has her Dad’s smile and laugh. It is almost like seeing him as a toddler again.

I trust that the Lord gave Rhys a glimpse of his progeny. And Rhys is now aware of London’s path in life. Stephanie is teaching London the way she should go. So we wait on the Lord and trust He will make our path straight. And as Joseph said to his brothers in Egypt, “what you meant for evil, God meant for good.” Rhys’ death will work to God’s purpose and His purpose will be good. “For I know the thoughts I think toward you, says the Lord, thoughts of peace and not evil, to give you a future and a hope.” Jeremiah 29:11

I’ve been often reminded recently that as a child of God, no one can take away my joy. There is solid foundation in this statement. From personal experience, I can tell you that this is true. We can be sad. We can be angry. We can be lonely, among a host of other emotions. But we own our joy because it is God-given.

Two years ago at this period of time between Rhys’ burial and the birth of our granddaughter, overwhelming sadness and unbelievable joy were intertwined in a tangled web in my mind; a web so complicated and counter intuitive that I only now realize the web is purposeful and ordered. The purpose and order are a mystery to me, as it is God’s perfect design, not my chaotic and ever-changing plan. But I do realize that sadness and joy can coexist.

Rhys’ death was so huge and so devastating that there really are no words to describe it. The death of a child is so unexpected, so unfair, so utterly wrong that one barely functions. The best I could do on some days was to reach out to the Lord and ask, “For today Lord, please let me just rest in Your arms.” As parents we had the life experience to draw on. But we were watching Stephanie, who was only just beginning to form her life experience as a wife and as a mother, become as the most delicate of glass, ready to shatter into a million pieces at a breath of wind. We had to be strong.

God is truly faithful at all times. He let me rest when I needed to but gave me strength when that was necessary. I learned to balance sadness and joy; the sadness of a life gone, the joy of a life beginning. I witnessed the joy of the birth of London Eevie and Stephanie’s joy at the sight of her. We laugh together at little quirks London has developed that remind us of Rhys. We cry that Rhys missed this part of life that he so joyfully anticipated.

The sadness is ever-present but tucked away in a place saved for quiet moments of reflection, away from the day-to-day tasks of living. The joy is also always present, for it is truly God-given. The sadness and joy are juxtaposed on a parallel path, no longer knotted and tangled, but moving together towards a destination determined by God before time. It is a destination known only by Him, but a destination that is perfect and true. It is a destination where we will be reunited with Rhys again. The journey is often sad for a moment but always joyful in the promise that the place and time of arrival are exact.

“The steps of a good man are ordered by the Lord and He delights in his way. Though he fall, he shall not be utterly cast down. For the Lord upholds him with His hand. Psalm 37:23-24