Faith & Hope in Suffering
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Dear Buddy Boo… Is it really ten??!? Ten years? Ten whole years I’ve lived without you. I find it hard to grasp, hard to comprehend. I get a lump in my throat when I consider the reality of what ten years means. It’s significant. Ten years is, in fact, monumental. It’s monumentally painful and it’s
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My dear little man (who wouldn’t be so little anymore)…Tomorrow is your birthday…And it’s raining heavily outside. It’s never rained…
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My dear Buddy Boo…I miss you so, so much. Nine years. You’ve be home with Jesus for nine years now. I got blind-sided by my grief yesterday at church. The second song began and the floodgates opened; I was a blubbering mess. It actually caught me a bit by surprise, as though I was a piñata—suddenly struck…
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My Dear Jud Bud…Another birthday. Another year lived in your absence. Another celebration of your life, similar to the last. Another year in the middle of what…
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Dear Judson, So much has changed these last eight years! When you left, my heart was so broken. I had been grievously wounded, and I wasn’t sure to what degree I would heal or what kind…
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Dear Jud Bud… My heart longs so deeply for you. This unsatisfied ache of my soul has become part of me…part of each breath, thought, experience…for eight years now. I was driving along the freeway yesterday and saw an RV lot. I had a memory of discussing that RV lot with you. But then I second-guessed my recollection, wondering…
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A window of opportunity had opened, so I tentatively asked, “Can I hold her?”
“Well, you can sure try, but she doesn’t always take well to strangers,” Amanda cautioned. This is a phrase commonly expressed by moms of infants or toddlers when someone asks to hold their baby, but in this circumstance, it was unusual…
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Voices were raised, tears were falling, and the distance between us felt like a thousand miles—even though Drake and I were sitting feet away in the same room. This was familiar discord. Conflict between us, as husband and wife, is certainly…
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