Finding Home

I’ve never had to go far to experience God. Just a few steps outside my own back door. Because I feel Him in spring lilacs drenched in rain, in verdant green and winter white, in thunder and in rain.


I feel Him as I break up winter-hardened earth, pull weeds, and harvest peas. As I breathe deep the symphony of blackbird and blue jay, cardinal and finch, rustling leaves and honeybee.


This oasis, just feet beyond my own back door, refreshes like rain after drought, softening fissures, washing away dried up clay, cleansing scars, purple and deep, of diagnoses and disease.

A respite. A chance to breathe the rhythmic melody. God in. Me out. God in. Me out.

But what if I can’t climb her walls? Or guard her arms? Or help him sleep? What if she beats me around every bend to the edge of the cliff…and leaps?

Even if,” I hear Him whisper, “Even then.”

And I have to believe. In the marrow of my bones so I can breathe.

For I’ve lost my way in this crazy decade. Started to grasp and cling and ache with fear.

But I didn’t start here. I trusted once. Strong and deep. Didn’t doubt when my brother died and I didn’t heal. When my son got sick and never got well. Through long nights and new meds and constant tests. I didn’t doubt when my second was diagnosed or my oldest longed to end his life.

I stood. Still. And believed.

Then my third and fourth were diagnosed, and my daughter stood above holy ground and threatened to leap, and melanoma slipped uninvited into the lymph nodes of my father’s neck, and I wavered and started to sink.

Hands clenched. Heart tight. Unable to trust. Or maybe unwilling. Eyes securely on me.

He whispered, but I couldn’t hear or wouldn’t, till my say-it-like-it-is, food-loving, sports-loving, fruit-eating, red-haired mother-in-law suddenly and unexpectedly slipped into eternity.

While my girls were at camp.

When I reached them hours later, one cried. And one ran. And I prayed. “They’ll be OK,” my oldest said sitting next to me on my daughter’s bed.

And the Spirit whispered. Words I’d memorized years before.

For God did not give us a spirit of fear, but one of power, of love, and of self-control.” 2 Timothy 1:7

I’d been struggling these past few months to trust Him with my kids, so afraid they’ll slip away before they’re His. Secure.

Fear had wrapped itself around my heart. But we are His.

Even if things don’t turn out as I hope.

Even if my precious, incredible, hurting kids choose their own way out.

Even if. Even then.

I need to know it in the marrow of my bones so I can breathe.

“Even if. Even then,” He whispered again as darkness kissed the dawn and moonless night gave way to blushing day.

Just Him and me. In this oasis of the deep. Not steps beyond my own back door.

But with every breath, right at home in me.

It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me.” Galatians 2:20


Joining the blog tour for Emily Wierenga’s beautiful new memoir, “Atlas Girl: Finding Home in the Last Place I Thought to Look”.

Emily’s story is poignant and honest, lyrical and powerfully written. A journey of hope and pain, wonder and loss, adventure and amazing grace. A tender heart sometimes faltering, but ever seeking, always reaching for the very heart of God.

A five star read!


9 thoughts on “Finding Home

  1. Susan

    This one touches my heart … any mother can relate. Love you … support you (and encourage you, as always to continue to write prose). 🙂


  2. Your photography is spectacular. I see posts of you often with a camera, so I’m assuming that’s you! Your journey causes me to ponder on all the lives I’ve been witness to. I so vividly recall the passing of Jerry Fasbender, the grief of his wife, the marriage of his older daughter whose father was not there to walk her down the aisle. I’m constantly reminded in the midst of these tragedies of Ephesians 6: 12 — “For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms”. It is not that these ‘spiritual forces of evil” pick or choose the weakest of us, nor the strongest either. Their assault is unrelenting. Vs. 17 says, “With this in mind, be alert and always keep on praying for all the saints.” You were always a quiet “King’s Ransom” kid. But I think you were the strongest as the Journey unfolded. The Spirit has given you some very special gifts. You are one of the leaders of “God’s Rag Tag Army” (Martin Bell). You carry your banner so high!


      1. Here’s some more “MUST READ books via Pr. Bill”….. Remember “Barrington Bunny”?? I used to read that story around Christmas Time as a Children’s sermon. The book is, “The Way of the Wolf — The Gospel in New Images” by Martin Bell. He also wrote, “God’s Rag Tag Army” which is also included in that work. It’s published by The Seabury Press, C 1968. This was his first work. More were to follow. I think your whole family would just love these!! From “Rag Tag Army” — “I THINK God must be very old and very tired. Maybe he used to look splendid and fine in his general’s uniform, but no more. He’s been on the march a long time, you know. And look at his rag-tag little army! All he has for soldiers are you and me. Dumb little army. Listen! The drum beat isn’t even regular. Everyone is out of step. And there!! You see??!! God keeps stopping along the way to pick up one of his tinier solders who decided to wander off and play with a frog, or run in a field, or whose foot got tangled in the underbrush. He’ll never get anywhere that way. And yet, the march goes on. ” There’s more! Blessings, Dr. Bill Gerber


  3. oh my dear Cindee… i LOVE this post. it’s so transparent and real. how i ACHE for your losses, and the pain… but how I love hearing of God’s whisper ministering to your wounded soul. Thank you, for joining me on this journey sister. love to you, e.


  4. This is full of truth. The hard-fought kind. The best kind. Hold onto it, as you and your family walk through the fires. Sending love from a fellow fire-walker, today. ❤


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