The Blues

They don't call them the Blue Ridge Mountains for nothing!

This was our Saturday evening sky. Isn't it beautiful?!

We got together with friends this weekend for a Fall Festival. I busted out the overalls and plopped my pumkin down in the grass for his 11-month portrait. Can you believe he is eleven months?
I sure can't!

I am still unpacking all of my thoughts from our Respite Retreat a few weekends ago. It seems there is so much going on in my head and I can hardly process it fast enough.

Grief is a gnarly thing! It has so many facets, stages, speeds, highs, lows. It has the power to pull you to the utter depths of despair and hopelessness. It has the power to strangle or suffocate you.

I have decided, however, it is all about perspective.
Please don't misunderstand me. I have spent a good amount of time in the initial stage of grief -- weeping, confused, angry, cynical.
I think of Robbie every second. Every second.

But we have chosen to trust God. Trust Him with our doubts, anger, confusion, and disappointment.

We have yelled, "Where were you?" and asked "Why?"

That's okay.

As God told Habakkuk, "You wouldn't believe me if I told you." (Hab. 1:5)

Through Christ, death is not the end of the story. God promises, at some point, to break through and make all wrong right.

In the meantime, we will try to maintain an eternal perspective. We will change our focus from our overwhelming sorrow to the power and magnificence of God.

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I will lift up my eyes to the hills. Where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth. (Ps. 118:1-2)