Today marks two years since my husband came home from deployment with the Army. He spent nearly 10 months overseas. That was the longest we ever went without seeing each other.
There is a specific type of void in life when one’s spouse or significant other is gone, even for a short period of time. An emptiness. As painful as the emptiness can be at times, it’s amazing how instantly it vanishes and life goes back to some semblance of normal once he returned. It took probably six months for ‘us’ to get back to normal, but we were together.
In other ways, the past two years have been difficult. We’ve had lots of job changes, financial decisions, a cross-country move, and of course, we’ve been trying to expand our family the (mostly) ‘natural’ way. So far, nothing but emptiness. Literal emptiness.
“And the manna ceased on the day after they had eaten some of the produce of the land, so that the sons of Israel no longer had manna, but they ate some of the yield of the land of Canaan during that year.”
Joshua 5:12 (NASB)
Within this struggle, I’ve been surviving on the manna given to me every day. I haven’t had the mental or emotional energy to begin planting and harvesting my own crops. I’ve been tending to my most basic needs. Now, I’m turning a corner. I have hope that it will rain, the sun will shine, and my crops will grow. I can look back at the desert not with disdain and regret, but with joy that I got through it, or in other words, that I was carried through it. I can look ahead to the river valley and see that there is opportunity.
A part of me will always feel empty. And that’s okay. Being healed doesn’t mean that there aren’t scars or reminders. Even with the scars, healing is one reminder of the great grace we’re shown by a compassionate, loving God, Jehovah Raphe. And for that, I’m so thankful.
by Keller Hawkins
she was perched on a branch
feathers withered,
crumpled
her head hung low
she sang with sorrowful earnest
a song
that sent shivers down her spine
and deepened the ache in her heart
she sang and sang
waiting for someone,
anyone
to hear
until one day
she remembered:
she had wings.
so she flew.
mercies per mile 