March 13, 2020

“The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want. He makes me to lie down in green pastures; He leads me beside the still waters. He restores my soul; He guides me in the paths of righteousness For His name’s sake.

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; For You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me. You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; You anoint my head with oil; My cup runs over.

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me All the days of my life; And I will dwell in the house of the LORD Forever.”
‭‭Psalms‬ ‭23:1-6‬ ‭

Yesterday was a beautiful spring day in New Brunswick. I took the kids outside for a walk to enjoy the sunshine. Cori and Elijah took off when we got down to the beach. I stood, looking at them grow smaller in the distance and began thinking. A year ago this day, Elijah could not walk. A year ago this day, we expected him to be fully recovered in the next six months. A year ago, it was less than two weeks before he was unexpected readmitted to the IWK. So much can happen in the space of twelve short months. Some day flew by, and others seemed like they would never end. But time marches on. Progress and healing can happen even if you can’t see it or feel it.

I ugly-cried at the beach yesterday because I am thankful. I ugly-cried at the beach because God is so good. I cried because God is always with us and He never leaves us or forsakes us. I cried because He loves our son more than I do. I cried because our son has had to endure things most children could never imagine. I cried tears of joy because our son was RUNNING on the beach with his siblings. I cried, because, for this season, we are done with wheelchairs, prescriptions, and pin-site care. And I cried because some parents don’t get to experience the joy at seeing their child’s physical healing.

I sat down beside the stream and closed my eyes. The sounds of running water rushed over me and cleared my thoughts. Spring is here, a time for new beginnings and fresh starts. As the snow melts, the dirt and grime, failures and false starts, disappointments and decay are being washed away. Water gives life. A tree planted by the water has no worries in a year of drought and never fails to bear fruit (Jer. 17:8). New growth is already appearing.

At my Grandma’s funeral a few years ago, we sang a hymn called “How Can I Keep From Singing?” by Robert Lowry. Her life exemplified these words. It is my prayer that these words would be true in my life as well.

“My life flows on, in endless song
above earth’s lamentation.
I catch the sweet, though far off hymn
that hails a new creation.

No storm can shake my inmost calm
while to that rock, I’m clinging.
Since Christ is Lord of Heaven and Earth,
how can I keep from singing?”

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