Tuesday, November 26, 2013

When The Mountain Looks Too High Don't Look At The Potatoes

It's been a tough few days.
It's getting closer to Thanksgiving, and today is the nine month mark of when Caleb left this world.
My days have been in teary shambles as I've tried to keep going.
Last night I couldn't go anymore.
Everything was crashing in and the reality of the absence of my son was too evident.
I had been to the cemetery, and my insides sunk.
How could it be that the cemetery is part of my life now?
I rush out there some days, to check on things, put out new arrangements and make sure there are no tumbleweeds nesting near his spot.
I tossed some tumbleweeds away, and cleared off the pine needles. Seeing his name on the marker broke my heart.
I crumbled as I drove away.

I had told myself I could do Thanksgiving.
If I did a little bit at a time it would be all right.
My husband picked up a turkey while I was gone to Texas.
One thing out of the way.
When I got home I picked up a few things here and there.

But, yesterday did it.
It started with two bags of red potatoes, and a big bag of sweet potatoes.
I looked at them and imagined peeling and cooking all those potatoes - enough for a company of Marines is what it looked like to me at that moment.
The potatoes were as big as footballs.... a hundred pounds of them (reality-probably fifteen pounds.)

I tried not to think about them, but after I got home with a few more items (green beans that were each three feet long,) I melted.
My sweet TAPS friend called me (yes, I think of her as my friend even though we have never met. She is a gem and a godsend.) I told her I couldn't do it.
Thanksgiving was overwhelming.
The thought of all those potatoes and green beans and stuffing and bread and cranberries and pies was just too much for me to think of preparing....besides everything else.

"It's a huge mountain," I told her. "I can't climb it right now. It was those potatoes that did it...and the bags and bags of green beans."

We talked, cried and laughed (I cried, I don't think she did.)
By the time we hung up I felt better.
Still overwhelmed, but better.
I could see about getting some help...or a caterer.

This morning I woke up and thought I cannot do this.

"God, you have to be my strength. I don't have any. I am totally broken right now."

I visited with one of my sons. He may not know how much he blessed me.
We talked about Caleb, and heaven.
He talked about Jesus and all He went through for us.
It was good.

I took one step.
I made the stuffing.
Then I tackled those huge green beans.
I went to the grocery store.
Sometimes that is a major deal.
I really didn't want to go in.
I had no strength.

"I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me."

I got the items I needed, visited with a few people.
Difficult days, and the tears just come.
Unannounced.
The sweet lady who told me she was praying for me may not know how much those words meant to me today.

I went back home.
Before I knew it, I had the sweet potatoes done, and had baked a cake.

God intervened when I accidentally hit the pan of boiling cranberries - boiling water flew toward me,
spilling on my hand.
But, you know what?
It didn't burn.
THAT was God taking care of me.

This afternoon I had a call from a Recon mom.
I also had a call from one of Caleb's Recon brothers.
Wonderful blessings.

Yes, it's been tough.
Very, very tough.
My heart feels like it is in shreds.
But, even so -
God is faithful.

He gets me through somehow.
He sends blessings like the phone calls, the visit with my son, and saving my hand from burns.

There are blessings in the valley.
When I look at the huge mountain before me
and it looks too high ....
I know now -
I shouldn't look at the potatoes.


PS. I have to share - added blessing - my bathroom that has been in the process since April was finished today! The plumber and the tile guys may not know how they blessed me when they said, "Finished!"

Tonight I say, Good night.
Indeed, my Lord is my strength, my light and my salvation.
Even in these difficult times it is well with my soul.
Selah.