This Sunday was like many others, in so many ways! However for me, it was drastically different in a way others couldn’t see.

I sat in our same pew as we always do.  Taking my place, visiting with those that surrounded me. I took part in the customary cadence of worship, as I gave offerings, prayed prayers and learned from my spiritual leaders.  I sung some of the same songs as we have done before. There was one in particular, the band chose to play that initially had a negative reaction in me. It had the potential to cripple me but, it didn’t. On this Sunday, I breathed the words of the song, differently than any other occasion.

In the past, upon hearing it, I went backwards. It was a song we sang at Samantha’s Memorial Service. Those memories although glorious, reopen a painful place. As the first chord was struck, I noticed myself making physical motions, moving my head side to side, in a stiff sort of way. Bending my knees, on my own, so they wouldn’t buckle without notice. Doing this allowed me to spread the stress that wanted to settle in my joints, making them weak and ready to fall apart.  I glanced at Brooke, to ensure she was strong enough to hear it again. She can recognize the tune before I can. I looked at her and knew her spirit was strong enough, enabling her to sing this particular song. Although, it is a tender try; a whisper of the words. Sometimes, not able to finish the stanza, having to take a break between the lines so that emotions don’t overcome.

I started out singing the same way. Reserved because of what “had” happened. Bracing myself for the tears because of the trauma I associate with the singing of this song.

Then, I thought, “No, not today! Do not allow yourself to be brought backwards. Not after all that you have worked on and written. Not even for a minute! Elizabeth, right now, recognize His work within yourself!” I continued to sing,

All this pain
I wonder if I’ll ever find my way
I wonder if my life could really change at all
All this earth
Could all that is lost ever be found
Could a garden come up from this ground at all

You make beautiful things
You make beautiful things out of the dust
You make beautiful things
You make beautiful things out of us

All around
Hope is springing up from this old ground
Out of chaos life is being found in You

You make me new, You are making me new
You make me new, You are making me new

When I go to church, I always sit near the big window that overlooks the Memorial

Garden, where we last had a physical part of Samantha. We buried her ashes very near to where I sit each Sunday. Certain days, I think about this more than others. When I do, there is an unusual awareness that I’m reaching out and surrendering to a place where Samantha already lives. On these occasions my spirituality soars on the wings of eagles. My body is on a pew but my heart is reaching toward Heaven.

Refusing to be pulled toward the past, the battle was being won. I was able to turn my thoughts around and give thanks for the lyrics of this song. My words were more pronounced and my voice firmer and more far reaching. I was singing these words for myself. Knowing by now, Samantha’s ashes had surely turned to dust.  That indeed a garden had grown up from that old ground and hope was springing all around. Encouraged to the point of confession, that He was making “me” new and because of Him beautiful things are being made from the dust of Samantha’s ashes.

P.S. – Thanks for joining me on this new website. It is my prayer to encourage and edify,   provide comfort and compassion, help strengthen and solidify the faith of all those that visit.