Sometimes I hide in my bathroom...

Sometimes I hide in my bathroom. I am a grown woman, married, mother of three and there are times that I sneak into the potty and lock the door, praying that no one misses me. It might be because I need a moment of quiet. It might be because I want to read my devotional. It might be because I want to take a few deep breaths or just pluck my eyebrows. Whatever the reason, sometimes I slip into the bathroom, shut the door, and hide, just for a minute or maybe a few minutes, the bathroom has long been my quiet space. For as long as I can remember my favorite place to do my quiet time is in my bathtub. Even living at home with my parents, it was my prayer closet, my war room, my place of refuge. It still is.

Our family recently walked through a rougher season. Ryan's health was struggling and life was feeling heavy and hard. It felt as if doors were slamming in our faces and there was no sign of a light at the end of the tunnel. The days were long and I felt overwhelmed and weak. I was taking it day by day and desperately trying to trust but none of that is easy for me. I like to be strong and courageous but I felt scared and done in. I found myself too often slipping away,  shutting the door and trying not to suffocate from the storms we were facing. I struggled to even find time for a quiet time but I never struggled with where to go. When I needed to cry, when I was desperate to pray, when I just wanted my own space for a moment, I would head into the bathroom and get away, not for long but for long enough.

 I have a friend who was confessing to me a similar season of hardness, struggling to seek God when we can't feel Him, when we feel like we are just going through the motions, when life isn't what we want it to be and we feel disconnected. I have felt that way. I have certainly resisted resting in my Saviors arms because my own self was in the way. What I told her is what  I think we all need to hear. God never stops reaching for us. He is always ready and waiting and desiring us. In the hardest of times, in the fiercest of storms, Jesus is still in control. The winds and waves still obey him, even when he doesn't tell them to calm. Our peace is in Him and He is always offering it. My friend and I talked about the scriptures that confirm that and that we just have to keep pressing on. It was such a nurturing conversation for both us. I walked away from it knowing that God was speaking to each of us in our separate struggles and He has confirmed that to me abundantly recently.

One thing that spoke to me was a random song that brought me to tears in the car last week. It is called, "I'll Keep On". It is not my typical music choice, a little young for my blood,  and Ryan even questioned me when he saw that I had downloaded it. I have always encouraged God to get my attention however He needs to and so when my spirit is stirred, I try to listen.The song starts with the chorus which goes like this,

Oh, these hands are tired
Oh, this heart is tired
Oh, this soul is tired
But I'll keep on
I'll keep on 
I'll keep on

It was a song that I was unfamiliar with other than I felt like I was living it. It was as if my soul cried out through a stranger's voice. Part of the verses talk about trying to weather the storms on our own until we finally surrender life into the waiting and ready hands of our Father. It spoke of the struggle of shouldering life when we are just not strong enough to stand. It reminded me to "keep on" and where to place my trust and seek my rest.

Another thing that spoke directly to my soul was in the Word. I was reading in the Old Testament about a time when God's chosen people seemed defeated. They were actually captives in a foreign land and felt deserted and abandoned. The prophet Ezekiel was around at the time but he was kind of a dooms day guy. It seemed he was always delivering condemnation, although truthful, and bad news. In fact, at one point in his life, God told him not to speak unless he told him to. Another time God had him lie on his left side for 390 and then his right side for 40 days. This is not a dude that feel drawn to or connect with easily, but I have been reading through my Bible chronologically and that means that I have to read through ol' Zeke's story. I was not expecting to be moved but God works in mysterious ways and Zeke delivered some great stuff in chapter 34. Ezekiel 34:11-24 says this,

 “For this is what the Sovereign Lord says: I myself will search and find my sheep. I will be like a shepherd looking for his scattered flock. I will find my sheep and rescue them from all the places where they were scattered on that dark and cloudy day. I will bring them back home to their own land of Israel from among the peoples and nations. I will feed them on the mountains of Israel and by the rivers and in all the places where people live.  Yes, I will give them good pastureland on the high hills of Israel. There they will lie down in pleasant places and feed in the lush pastures of the hills.  I myself will tend my sheep and give them a place to lie down in peace, says the Sovereign Lord.  I will search for my lost ones who strayed away, and I will bring them safely home again. I will bandage the injured and strengthen the weak."

How powerful is it that God is rescuing us from dark and cloudy days? Yes,  it is also clear that we will have them but, He will find us in the midst. I love that His rescue will be also be restoring and restful, peaceful and pleasant. He will search for us, bandage us and strengthen us. I needed this. I need it today and I will need it tomorrow and, I have to think that we all need it at sometime in our lives. What a blessing to know and be loved by the Great Shepherd!

Here is the thing that I was graciously reminded of, life is hard and heavy, and storms and hard times are sure to come but I need to never lose hope. I need to keep on...keep trusting, keep resting, keep relying on the Master of the wind and the waves, the only One strong enough to weather my storms and yours. I need to go to the potty and seek out the throne room of the King of Kings believing that He is ready and waiting to answer my cries for help. Sometimes I need to hide in my quiet place so that I can seek and be found by the Shepherd. Life may be hard at times but hope, hope is never lost. In fact, it may be found in the bathroom!

Light it Up Blue

April is Autism Awareness month and April 2nd is Light It Up Blue for Autism Awareness. As I have been thinking on this the last few days so many emotions and thoughts have warred for my attention.  It seems like  autism is a hot topic nowadays and don't all things have a color assigned to them. I wondered why it needed a whole month and then again, why not the whole year!? What would our participation look like and mean? Why blue and not red or orange? Then today, as I was scrolling through Facebook a saying on a t shirt spelled it all out so clearly to me. It said, "April is Autism Awareness month but everyday is Autism Awareness day in our home." That's it for me in a nutshell-I am continuously aware of autism. My home, my work, my sleep, my family, my life is affected by autism everyday. That is why it feels strange and yet inspiring to me. I am all too aware of autism ALL the time.

 As I said earlier, April 2nd is Light it Up Blue and the color blue rubbed me a bit as well. Why Light it up BLUE? Blue is the color of my Garrett's eyes. Blue is just a touch of how I felt as I came to the mommy realization of the battle my baby would face every day. Blue is alot of things in our home, like the color of a clear sky and the color I like best on my boys. At the end of the day though, it is just a color, until you light is up, then it changes. That is how I would describe autism's effect on our life. It is just a word, a diagnosis until..... until it is a label placed on your baby or it becomes the doorway that connects you to your child's awesome potential. Autism felt dark to me for a while and it certainly still has it's days but it has also become a beacon of light to us. It has become the avenue for finding the tools to unlock our Garrett's awesomeness. It is bright and messy and vibrant, just like my boy. It is sensory bins, indoor swings, trampolines in the living room, and root beer in a can. It is our everyday wake up call, sometimes way too early, and what makes me crave my pillow every night. It is one of the brightest, most beautiful lights in my life.

Tying it all together this morning was my quiet time. I was reading a devotional on simple gifts and it asked a question about the greatest "simple" gift that you have waited for. My answer to the question posed was, "yes". In teaching Garrett how to communicate, the word "yes" was slow to come. We worked tirelessly on it and it was a thorn in our side for a very long time. I would want to scream when our sweet speech therapist would tell us that our homework was to keep practicing our yes/nos. I remember the first yes like it just happened. I cried. I clapped. I called daddy to share my joy. There are days when I want to say "no" to autism, hard, long, deflating days, but, when I look into those blue eyes and see the light that still needs set free from my G, all I can say is yes, absolutely and positively YES. Yes, we are aware of autism everyday and, yet, yes, we will light it up blue to help make others more aware. Yes, always yes.

Watching out the Window

We have three large windows in our living room. I have always loved them. They let in loads of sunlight and they truly are the windows to our world. When the boys were little, they would stand on their tiptoes and watch for the infamous trash truck. We have witnessed first snow flakes and flash floods and, just tonight, a hypnotizing thunderstorm from those windows. As my big boys have gotten older, they have become my front row seat into their world. They give a great vantage point to the street basketball games and neighborhood sledding escapades. Ryan and I often find ourselves standing at the windows watching our boys wondering when we got relegated to the windows instead of  being a participant in the games. Sure, boys their age need a bit of independence and it is good to learn responsibility but, watching isn't nearly as much fun. The consolation is that occasionally those windows have been cracked open for the always effective "knock it off!" and it is the way I call the littles in for dinner. They are my way of letting them grow up while I keep a watchful eye on them, my mother's perch, so to speak.

I had a conversation with my boys the other day where we were talking about right and wrong choices and how the best choice is doing what Jesus would do. I apologized to them that life is getting harder now. It was easier when we were teaching how to cross the street safely and tying shoes. These lessons of how to deal with the harsher realities of an unfair life in a sinful world feel woefully over my head. How am I supposed to teach love when my momma fists are clenched tight? How can I preach self control when there are times I just want to shout? I would rather potty train any day. I was honest with my boys, I told them that this is a new season for us all. I said that sometimes my advice is going to be wrong because it will come from the wrong place inside of me.  The Bible is our handbook for life but there are many times we just can't seem to find the right passage to apply. I told them that we would all make mistakes but that there were a few things that we could know and trust and always do. We can always pray. Pray for those who persecute or bother us. Pray for those who we love. Pray for fast days and good days. We could always know that there is forgiveness, when we get it wrong or when others get it wrong to us. The last thing, and we have covered  this alot recently, is that we are each other's safe place. I told them that they are always loved, even when I am correcting them, and that I will have their back always. I told them that family is close to faith and those things are constant lights in what can feel like a dark world. I hate the reality that my boys will face struggles. I would gladly bear every one of their burdens and take on every hurt that comes their way, but that is not my job. At the end of it all, I am trying to raise godly men who love their Jesus and love the people He puts in their paths.

The other night as I laid in my bed praying over all of this, our day and my boys, I was struck by my window watching. You see, sometimes I don't like the view from the window. I have seen the unkindness and the bullying.  I have witnessed harsh words and hurt feelings and I feel constantly torn over when to step in and when to step back. I was praying over these concerns and I realized that I'm not the only one watching There is another window and my heavenly Father has his eyes on my little men too. He not only hears the hurts and knows the heartache, He knows the hair on each of their heads. He knows their todays and their tomorrows. He has their life's plans laid out before Him and He loves them even more than I do. The comfort that I felt when I realized this was unexplainable. The next night as I was praying again over this new season in parenting, I read a beautiful quote in a book that said, "God doesn't just see us; He gazes adoringly at us. He doesn't just notice us; He moves heaven and earth on our behalf." He does that for me and He does that for my boys.  What a wonderful comfort to know that when I can no longer carry my babies through this world, I can trust in Someone who is more than able. It reminded me that as I look down from my perch I also need to look up and have faith. There is One greater keeping watch as well.

More...

First off, let me say, I am not a cryer. I really kind of hate crying and avoid it as much as I can. My dad cried at the movie "Cars". My sister loves sad movies and books, even pursues this sort of thing. This crying thing is definitely not for me. There are only a few things that I cry over. The last verse in "Away in a Manger", I sing it every night to my boys and I sang it to the them the night that a dear friend of mine kissed her little girl for the last time. It made me cry then and can still choke me up. I get teary during prayer and worship sometimes. If I have to cry, I do it in the car with the radio loud where no one notices or, in the summer, if crying is necessary, I will let it go while I mow the grass. No one is any wiser and I have accomplished something in the meantime. These are the exceptions to my no crying rule. With all that being said, as I sat in a crowded auditorium watching my son and his school sing "We Wish You a Merry Christmas", tears streamed down my face (and my mom and dad's because they are cryers). Why? Why the tears? They were absolutely tears of joy that Garrett had accomplished something that at one time I never would have dreamed possible but there was more to it than just that. They were tears of surrender, tears of hope. They were tears asking for more.

Let me explain, a couple of years ago when we received the diagnosis of autism for Garrett, we were left walking down a path and we didn't know where it would lead. As love would have us, we blindly took each other's hands and started down that path, but it was scary and hard. I well remember the prayers where I told God that I wanted more-more strength than I could ask or imagine, more faith than I could ask or imagine, more hope than I could ask or imagine. I just wanted more, more of everything that I would need, more than I could ask or imagine. I knew that our future, our plans had changed in that diagnosis. I needed to trust and I knew the only person I could trust in and that somehow He would be enough. I hoped for Christmas programs and friendships and all the things of a typical child but I couldn't ask for anything but more, more than what my fear would let me see.

Recently this prayer for more than I could ask for or imagine has been heavy on my heart but has not been just for Garrett. I have seen several situations in the lives of people around me that are game-changers. They are the diagnosis, the moments, that take lives down paths that they never intended to go. I can only imagine the fear and the uncertainty. God has put these burdens heavy on my heart and I find myself once again pleading for more. I whisper it throughout the day and wake up throughout the night with it fresh on my heart and lips. I can only assume that part of the reason that I feel so called to this prayer in these situations is because I know that God certainly can do more than we can ask or imagine. We really can trust Him to lead us down those roads even when we don't know where they lead. We can have hope in hopeless situations and we can have joy in the hardest of times. That is more. That is what I want for the people on my heart. That is what I was experiencing in that crowded auditorium.

More for me during Garrett's Christmas program was watching him do something that at one time would have seemed impossible. More was that he walked on the stage, sang his songs, did the motions, and even finished with a bow. More is knowing that the journey isn't over but that the trip is safe in the Master's hands. More is hoping and praying for the burdens of those around me that seem too heavy. More was in that tiny baby whose birth we celebrate at Christmas. He is more. More than we could ask or imagine. More than what we will ever need. More makes tears roll down cheeks and, yet, I will keep on asking and trusting for more.

Ephesians 3:20-21:²⁰ Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, ²¹ to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen.

The truth about Santa

Last weekend, my mama heart took quite the hit. It was a typical family day at the pumpkin farm when my oldest leaned toward me and asked me the dreaded santa question. "Mom, I've been wondering. Is Santa real or is that just you buying the stuff and saying that it is from him?" My response was to take a deep breath and reply that that topic was not appropriate for the pumpkin farm but I would gladly talk to him later about it. He found me later that evening and I locked us both in the laundry room, turned the dryer on and gave him the truth. I told him that I was going to be completely honest with him. I explained that Jesus and everything to do with him, the cross, heaven, all of that was 100% truth but that Santa was the greatest lie ever told. It broke my heart and when he cried two crocodile tears I wondered for a moment if I had made the right decision, but then he smiled and said that he couldn't believe he was right. Within minutes he took out the Tooth Fairy and the Easter Bunny, and the Elf on the Shelf lost his battle the following morning.

Why did I do it? Trust me when I say that I hated losing that part of his childhood but recently I have been praying that as my boys grow they will choose to keep me in their circles. I want them to value our relationship later as much as they do now. I want to be more than their maid, cook, and fever fixer. I want to be a safe place to turn. I have been asking God to show me how to survive these years where they want to talk about video games and the world series, minecraft and pokemon, so that when they are ready to open up about the important stuff, I am still here and that I will be ready. I knew the moment that he opened his mouth with the Santa question that this was about a lot more than the man from the North Pole. When I prayed about it as we drove home from the pumpkin farm, I realized that it was about being honest and real and proving to my little men that I am worthy of valuable conversation. I had the opportunity to earn his trust.

I have been reflecting recently that kids are like little empty vessels. They are given to us for a time and we get to fill them up in a way.  As parents we get to choose where we direct and allow their attention and likes to land. Ryan and I have tried desperately to fill our boys with the things that we have deemed valuable like compassion, kindness, gratitude, baseball, and, of course, faith.  We do family time.We worship together and we dance to what does the fox say. We mess up ALOT but we try to fill them with good things more often than not. We have tried to love them and discipline them and be examples for them but we are getting to that place in their lives where we will have to let them go a bit. I can only control so much, and although I can do my best on my side of thier lives, I can't control whatever the future may hold for them. I can be sure there will be good times and I can also be sure of difficult times. They will be reasons to praise and reasons to pray. They will have to choices to make and they will sometimes they will feel like they have no choice at all. Who they are and what they believe will be tested and shaken. I just hope that when their vessels are shaken, the good and right is what spills out.

We have lived our lives in front of our kids. They have seen us disagree, hurt, apologize, fail, weep, laugh, love, and rejoice. We have been honest about our brokenness and the brokenness of the world that we live in. We have lived our faith daily, while still trying to shield them from the harshness of it all. Sometimes we have done this well and lots of times, we have not. When I think back on the last 10 years with my boys, I just hope that they will remember the good and will have learned from the bad. I can only hope that we have taught them to love Jesus and love others, to say sorry, to be honest even if it is not cool, to be real, to worship, to cry, and to laugh, and that we will love them through all of it. I hope that I have earned a spot in the circle. I hope they will keep me close. Yes, I may have lied about Santa when they were little but I hope that they will trust in the TRUTH that will always be bigger than whatever life brings them and that they will walk in that TRUTH everyday . I want them to know that life will be hard but that hard can still be good and to never lose heart. I want them to walk the path that God has for them and not be afraid of the road that lies ahead and maybe, every now again, they will let me hold their hands and go along with them.

On Bended Knee

I am a control freak. Anyone else out there agree? I love to be in charge and know what to expect and that success is guaranteed. I like to have my say, and say what I think, and I usually think I am right. This is just me being honest. With that being said, I have realized that I really control nothing. I attempt to live my life trusting in next steps that I can't see. You can see this in my not-ever-clean-enough house, my multiple to do lists on my phone, and, most assuredly, in my kids. I am working hard to give all over to the the Giver of All and not snatch it back with worry. Being a mom to an autistic child is one of the most uncontrollable circumstances that I could ever have imagined. I so often feel like I can't control or predict anything from his moods, to his needs, to his future but I also realize that I don't need to. I joke and say that I have a rich prayer life because I have to constantly ask for patience. Really, I have a rich prayer life because my God has proven himself over and over. He always hears, always answers, is always in control. He may not always answer on my schedule or even on my side but He is always right and, for that, I am grateful. Let me give you a few examples...

  I pray for green lights when I'm late (which is often) and I love to hear my kids say from the backseat, "Thank you Jesus for green".
  I pray for "fast days". Whether at work or school, we all hate days that drag and Carter has "best days ever" quite often.
  I pray for me not to forget to call my mother in law and pick up glasses.
  I pray for Walmart lines to be short or at least for me to be sweet regardless.
  I pray for us to always "do our best and forget the rest".
  I pray for kind words and kind actions from us and others.
  I pray for sleep, maybe even past 5am and am always abundantly grateful no matter what time I am aroused.
  I pray for my niece and nephews, brothers and sisters (in laws included).
  I pray for my worship to be sincere and for His glory.
  I pray for eyes to see and ears to understand.
  I pray for my boys' future wives to love Jesus and me.
  I have prayed for job opportunities, for friends, for forgiveness, for grace.
  Last year, I  prayed because I wanted to hold Garrett back a year from Kindergarten. I was worried that he wasn't ready. I prayed about it for a long time, sought wise counsel, trusted in the answers that I was given and he rocked kindergarten out (or at least survived) thanks to some awesome people who God placed in his life.
  I pray on the way to school and work and baseball games.
  I have prayed for open doors and closed doors.
  I have prayed, "God, please no" and then I have rejoiced when he said "yes"
  This week I walked down the school hall toward an IEP meeting praying. Praying for grace to hear and speak and praying with gratitude for God's hand on my littlest man's life. The answers were too sweet for mere words. The kind and encouraging things that were said about G blew me away. I sat next to his first grade teacher and marveled that even though I didn't even know her name until the day before school, God had been working her into our life all along. I so struggled with letting go and letting God again this year, but as I sat at that table, I had to hold in my wonder at how He had it in the bag all along. The people who He lets in my G's life appreciate his strengths, recognize his weaknesses, most importantly, don't stress his quirks. They even dig them. I honestly believe that they genuinely care for him. This is what I prayed for and this is why I pray.

I believe strongly in prayer. I believe in the scripture in Matthew 7:7 that says, "Ask and it shall be given to you. Seek and you shall find". If we don't ask, we can't ever know what the answer would be and I trust that my Father in heaven only wants to give me good gifts. It might not always be easy and look like I think it should but He is purposeful in all things and loves to be talked to. Prayer is my conversation with the one who knows me best and yet still loves me. Life is best lived when it is covered in prayer.

None of the things I pray for are in my control, nor do I want them to be.  I could not have orchestrated any of it even if I had tried. God  has also made me wait and trust and obey. When I enrolled G in his school, I knew just one teacher in the whole building, granted, I knew she was a rockstar at her job but it was a step of faith for me and all I could do was pray. Which is the point, really,  the only thing that is needed from me is to keep praying and walking in faith. Keep bending the knee, whispering the requests, and rejoicing in the answers.

I pray that I will always remember who is in control and that He knows best. I pray that we all will.

Milestones

I well remember that knot in the pit of your stomach the night before the first day of school? Remember the feeling of anxiety and worry? Would anyone say "hi"? Where would I sit on the bus? Who would sit with me? What if I got in trouble? What if I didn't do something right? How long would the day last and how long would it feel? I can remember little girl and sometimes bigger girl tears squeaking out. I felt alone and scared. I could have forever stayed in the comfort of my home, within reach of my mom's arms and under the safe cocoon of my family's love and acceptance. I enjoyed school but, I was always a nervous ninny about first days and new things. This is something I have never outgrown. A couple of weeks ago, I drove through a school zone and found tears making tracks down my cheeks as I attempted to place my fears in perspective. I was praying, truly begging for God to protect my boys. I asked Him to bless them with teachers who would love them and cherish them and friends to come alongside them. I asked Him to give them confidence and kindness, to help them be strong and courageous, all while I, their mom, was feeling weak and frightened. I want to live my life with my hands wide open but, in my heart, I felt my grip struggling to let go of some of my greatest gifts. I want them with me, close to me, but that is not what God wants from me.

This summer has been such a time of growing up for our family. Each boy has grown physically, mentally, and emotionally. One sign of this was Garrett's first sleepover (not including meme and pap's). The big boys and G stayed at our friend's house the other night. It was odd for me to plan on not having G climb into my bed at 6 but instead to find three sleeping bags and three sets of pjs. It was a campout of sorts and so I was included in the festivities and got to watch him be one of the kids. Parker is reading through a Bible without pictures and Carter read through the Action Bible like his big brother. Garrett also played his first organized sport. We tried new things like the rail trails with only bikes, no strollers.  The big boys are becoming more mature and Garrett is so much more social, learning things like right and wrong and how other people are feeling in situations. Garrett also began reading and spelling. For instance, he is allowed to say "oh my godh (gosh)" but not, "oh my God". We went to a soccer camp and so much more. They were all milestones and they all came with certain stresses and great victories (most of the time). I love watching my boys grow and I can honestly say that I enjoy the people that they are becoming but I also hate it. I find myself wanting to stop time so that they will always fit in my lap and in my grasp. I worry if there will come a time when they won't need or want my arms to comfort them or if my arms will always fit around my most precious gifts. I am afraid of what my big boys might soon face that I won't be able to help them with either because I am not there or just because they choose not to share it with me. I fear that Garrett will be bullied or misunderstood and that I won't be there to protect him and guide him. These are not anxious thoughts of a mad woman either, there are many more moms out there like me. We love our babies and we don't know how to let them go or if we want to.

Each year of school is very symbolic of milestones. This is Parker's last year before middle school and Carter is  quickly becoming less child and more boy. Garrett is a first grader and will have a whole new set of hurtles to conquer. I was still struggling with this the other day when I thought of the image of the cross. I pictured me there on one side and my boys on the other and I wanted God to understand that the gap between us was too wide, too much for this mama to bear, and entirely too far for me to reach. And then, I saw what was on that cross...my Savior, waiting there, with his arms stretched wide. He was reaching for me and for them and the distance was not too long for him. He had all of us in his wide open hands and his love was covering. It was more than enough. He was more than enough. In my mind's eye, I saw that my boys are never without, they are always safe. They need never fear or worry, nor do I, because God has reached across the chasm and has promised to never leave them. Where I can not be, He already is. The ironic thing is that Garrett is currently moderately obsessed with the cross. He likes to talk about how Jesus died on the cross for us and then three days later went to heaven to wait for us. Part his obsession includes building and drawing crosses. He will frequently find pieces of scrap wood and build a cross and then take what he calls a  "rest" on it. Is it odd? Yes, but, it is G and so we roll with it. What a lovely reminder to me and all of us that we too can "rest" on the cross. We don't need to do everything or be everywhere for our kids because the work is already complete and Love is always with them. His hands are open, the cross is conquered and so I need not fear.

My tears will likely still come on that first day. I will probably be the mom choking back tears at drop off and counting down hours until pick up. I will be praying for my boys, for their teachers and their classmates. Ryan will call and ask me how I am doing and I will lie and say "ok". I can't say that I won't fear but I can say that I will turn to the same place that I go for all of my other struggles. I will go the cross. I will find my Jesus there and I will rest. I will trust that by letting my boy blessings go, I am really just giving them back to the Giver who is always waiting with hands wide open.