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Two Months

 

Two months today.

 

Two months since Steve went home.

 

Two months of the deepest, darkest heartache I have ever known.  It has been a wonder and terror to me.  (Dramatic words, I know, but I mean them.)

 

Two months of groping through inky black nights of fear and strangely dim summer days.

 

Two months of miracles.

 

Two months of surprising discoveries, both internal and peripheral, that have awakened me to new angles on the character of God and the ways He has woven my heart together.

 

Two months of wondering if He would, again, today, be enough.  Be real enough.  Be peace enough.  Be provision enough.  Be close enough.

 

Two months of finding that He is the Yes to all questions of want.  He is always the Yes, even when my heart is no, or maybe, or prove Yourself first and then I’ll trust.

 

Two months and I am still standing and still astounded. In awe. Undone by His ways.

 

I ran into this prayer today and it sang my heart:

 

God of all our times:

We have known since the day of our birth

that our primal task is to grow to basic trust in You, 

to rely on You in every circumstance,

to know that You would return when You are away, 

to trust that in Your absence You will soon be present, 

to be assured that Your silence bespeaks attentiveness and not neglect, 

to know that in Your abiding faithfulness, “all will be well and all will be well.”  

 

We do trust in You: 

we are named by  Your name,

and bonded in Your service.

We are among those who sing Your praise

and who know of Your deep faithfulness. 

You, you however, are not easy to trust:

We pray against a closed sky; 

our hopes reduced to auto-suggestion; 

our petitions are more habit than hope;

our intercessions are kindly gestures of well-being. 

 

Sometimes,

because Your silence and absence, 

Your indifference and tardiness are glaring among us. 

We are drawn to find lesser gods, 

easier loyalties,

many forms of self-trust…

that do not even fool us. 

 

On this Friday of remembered pain and echoing deathliness, 

We pray for new measures of passion, 

for fresh waves of resolve, 

for courage, energy, and freedom to be our true selves…

waiting in confidence, 

and while waiting, acting our life toward You

in Your ways of forgiving generosity. 

 

We pray in the name of Jesus who trusted fully, and 

who is Himself fully worthy of our trust.  

Amen.     {Walter Bruggemann, Awed to Heaven, Rooted in Earth}

 

 

With hope,

 

Bo

September 18, 2015 - 2:44 pm

Sue Bartlow McFarland - Grief is like swimming in the sea….sometimes, it’s calm and you feel like you can stay afloat…othertimes, the waves come crashing down on you and you’re not certain whether you’ll be able to rise back up to the surface…just keep yourself anchored to the Rock of Ages as He will lift you back up when your strength is gone.
God bless you as your travel on your grief journey.

September 18, 2015 - 3:06 pm

Sue Powell - “The Father is closest to the child He is carrying”…You.As long as you need Him to,and He won’t get weary or heavy laden,sweet sister-friend.Keeping you,Josiah and family,close in prayers..as I see that in a few days,you will have a ‘First Birthday’,after the loss of your beloved Steve…praying for extra Grace for that day,as Kara Tippets said it so well;”Don’t imagine yourself in the future,because that is you without the Grace He will provide for that time and circumstance”…Love and Hope,Sue

September 19, 2015 - 6:38 am

Steve Merki - “We are drawn to find lesser gods . . . that do not even fool us.” Powerful . . . And true.

September 19, 2015 - 2:36 pm

anita - Bo, you’ve quoted from one of my favorite books of prayers and indeed to one of my favorite prayers in one of my favorite books of prayers 🙂 Over the past few years when my own words in prayer fail me, a written prayer read over and over will often return my voice to me.

You continue to be a daily fixture in my prayers…even when I don’t have words.

September 21, 2015 - 7:16 am

Shanda Wordelman - Bo, I am so sorry you have to go through this. I have been so blessed by your books and what God is doing in you and through you. I want you to know that you really are making a huge difference. Your pain hasn’t been wasted. I am praying for you right now.

September 22, 2015 - 12:55 am

Aida - Happy Birthday, to the BEST and Beautiful BO in the whole wide world!!!

It was a full day and I didn’t get online until after midnight…alas, this is belated!

I love you!!!!!

September 29, 2015 - 8:24 pm

Rachel Hallett - I was brought to tears as I read your past few blog posts. I took the summer off of reading all blogs, so everything hit me fast. I can’t believe what you have been through, and your unshakeable faith through it inspires me even on my worst days of being a caregiver for my husband. It is beautiful what love can do, and what it can pull through. I will keep you in my prayers.

October 8, 2015 - 8:58 pm

Jewl - Thinking of you. Saying a prayer for you. You’re in the hard. The adrenalin of managing crisis, even a long-term one, gives way to an even longer marathon, and the road seems to stretch endlessly before you, and you feel alone, so very alone, despite the so many who love you. This is where a lamp to your feet and a light to your path brings needed focus. To do the next thing. This is where your expectation that Steve will be right around the bend begins to blend with the rational thought: that bend is not here on earth! He’s really gone. And so many others seem to have gone too. How very empty. The old doubts and worries creep in, so you lean even harder, and find Jesus to be even stronger, closer. Take care. Jesus is watching over you. You don’t blink without Him taking note. You’re never alone. He understands it all. He’ll carry you through. He’s on your side, by your side. So REST.

October 15, 2015 - 11:55 am

Caren Taylor - Dear Bo,
I’ve been reading your blog for quite awhile now, and have read your book, Beautiful Battlefields twice. I haven’t written you yet, but I pray for you often. When I got on here today, my first in about a month, and saw that you hadn’t written since then, I immediately cried out to our Father for you. I love you for who you are, sister, and I will continue to pray for His love and comfort to enfold you and for His loving arms to guide you through. Hang on, warrior. His armies are greater than the world’s and in the end, no matter what, we that are His will win.
Much love from an unknown sister/warrior.
Caren