I’m not okay, Lord. But I’m still here.

 “Are you ok?” I don’t know how to respond to a question I’ve been asked at many seasons of my life. Just like this February day caught between the warm rays of the sun and the cold wind that makes me zip my coat up. It is a season in life when you hold grief in one hand and gratitude in another. But, at that moment I feel nothing. Numb to the question; just numb to life in general. 

My response to her is,”Are you ok?” She only tears up and stares at the gravestone. My name written in the middle of the engraving. Our son’s name etched before mine on the marker. Our family’s last name written at the end. Pictures of him on the front of the headstone. I wait longing for the picture to speak to me. 

Just like the day I found him. I ran to my son the same as the prodigal’s father ran to him. My story changes from this familiar parable here. In this story, the son is no longer here. I hold him in my arms on that August day. The only cold that day was the warmth of life gone from my son. “Am I ok?” The only words I can say to God while cradling my son is,” Lord God, if this how You felt when You lost Your Son, we should be ashamed. “

Jus like the time when our son broke his arm. I cried there at the hospital for someone to please help me. “Please help my son.” 

But laying in a ditch with him I shouted the same cry of hopelessness to everyone who passed by and just drove on. “Did they just walk by and just go about their day. Oblivious to the Son of God hanging on a cross by the roadway. Did you feel ok that day God? Or was your hear breaking like mine? Did your tears fall as rain to the ground? Were you angry? Or were you just numb?Did anyone in the courts of heaven ask you if you were ok?”

My mind stumbles to the hollow ground I stood on. Looking at row upon row of someone’s loved ones buried here in this sacred dirt. We both look at each other knowing that we are not ok. 

I drop to the ground on my knees as I did that day I found him. 

I remember stopping again at the chapel at the hospital where I wrestled with my faith as I watched my father’s life slip away slowly. Of the prayer I prayed that day. And I repeat it to my Heavenly Father again this same prayer. 

“I didn’t come with lifted hands today. I’ve come with questions I can’t explain. Jesus, some nights I wrestle with the silence. Some days I barely say Your name. I’ve learned how to smile through the hurting. Learned how to stand when I’m afraid. But standing doesn’t mean I’m strong now. It means I only chose to stay. I don’t have the words you would hoped to hear. I don’t have the faith I used to claim. All I have is this one breath and I bring it just to say. Lord, I’m not okay but I’m still here calling out Your name. Still believing You can still hold me. Even when my strength has walked away. I don’t have the answers. I don’t see the road ahead. But I’m not okay, Lord. But I’m still here weeping at Your Holy feet. 

I’ve watched the seasons change without me. Watched the world just keep moving on while I stayed frozen in a moment. Trying to be brave and strong. Some prayers don’t sound like hallelujahs. Some faith is quiet worn and thin. But even doubt can be a doorway……when You meet me where I am.  

Lord I’m not okay but I’m still here…..still reaching through the pain…still trusting You can see me when I can’t see Hope again. I don’t need perfection….I just need Your nearness now. 

I’m not okay, Lord. But I’m still here on my face needing You here.  

If staying is my offering, then take this trembling heart. If breathing is my only prayer…please meet me where You are. I don’t need the healing yet. I don’t need the end made clear. I just need to know you’re still with me while I’m still here and they are there. 

Lord,I’m not okay but I’m still here….held by unseen Grace still learning that Your mercy doesn’t leave when I’m unsaid. I’ll take one step, I’ll say Your name through every doubt and fear. I’m not okay, Lord. 

And if tomorrow finds me stronger. I’ll remember this one truth….You stayed with me in the breaking and You carried me through…I’m still not okay, Lord but I’m still here and You held me is as I held my son, as my earthly father held me through the long night and whispered to me like I did to my son, as my dad whispered to me….it’s gonna be okay…cause I’m still here….”   

Romans 8:26-27 says that the Spirit helps us in our weakness and intercedes for us with “groanings too deep for words” when we do not know how to pray. God, who searches hearts, understands these deep, wordless cries…..

Two Horses Friendship

There is a field, with two horses in it.



From a distance, each horse looks like any other horse.
But if you stop your car, or are walking by, you will notice something quite amazing. Looking into the eyes of one horse will disclose that he is blind. His owner has chosen not to have him put down, but has made a good home for him.



This alone is amazing.

If you stand nearby and listen, you will hear the sound of a bell. Looking around for the source of
the sound, you will see that it comes from the smaller horse in the field.

Attached to the horse's halter is a small bell.
It lets the blind friend know where the other horse is, so he can follow.



As you stand and watch these two horses, you'll see that the horse with the bell is always checking on the
blind horse, and that the blind horse will listen for the bell and then slowly walk to where the other
horse is, trusting that he will not be led astray.

When the horse with the bell returns to the shelter of the barn each evening, it stops occasionally and
looks back, making sure that the blind friend isn't too far behind to hear the bell.




Like the owners of these two horses, God does not throw us away just because we are not perfect or
because we have problems or challenges.

He watches over us and even brings others into our lives to help us when we are in need.

Sometimes we are the blind horse being guided by the little ringing bell of those who

God places in our lives.

Other times we are the guide horse, helping others to find their way....

Good friends are like that... you may not always see them, but you know they are always there.

Please listen for my bell and I'll listen for yours.

And remember.....be kinder than necessary-everyone you meet is fighting some kind of battle.

Live simply, Love generously, Care deeply, Speak kindly.... Leave the rest to God.

By James Gargus

The Trouble Tree Story

I hired a carpenter to help me restore an old farmhouse.
He had just finished a rough first day on the job:

a flat tire made him lose an hour of work, his electric saw quit and now his ancient pickup refused to start.

While I drove him home, he sat in stony silence.
On arriving, he invited me to meet his family. As we walked toward the front door, he paused briefly at a small tree, touching the tips of the branches with both hands.
When opening the door he underwent an amazing transformation. His tanned face was wreathed in smiles and he hugged his two small children and gave his wife a kiss.
Afterwards he walked me to the car. We passed the tree and my curiosity got the better of me. I asked him about what I had seen him do earlier.
"Oh, that's my trouble tree," he replied. "I know I can't help having troubles on the job, but one thing for sure, troubles don't belong in the house with my wife and the children. So I just hang them up on the tree every night when I come home.
Then in the morning I pick them up again. Funny thing is," he smiled, " when I come out in the morning to pick 'them up. There isn't nearly as many as I remember hanging up the night before."

Sometimes Things Get Broken

Heavenly Daddy,
"Sometimes things get broken,"my mother says.Yeah,right.My tractor breaks,both mowers break, and there is still stuff to do.
I curse the tractor and the mowers.A car broken as I try to fix it brings on more cursing.These poor dumb inademate words can't tell
anything I'm saying.And I ask for God to bring down curses on all these hunks of iron,the one object truly broken is me.The struggles and trials
that never seem to end.My spirit is broken under the weight of all the demands put on it.Whether actually put on me or self inflicted is
a matter for debate.I don't even know where to start.
Will there ever be a day with no more suffering and no more tears?I have had very few broken bones in my life.What ones I've had broken incapcitate that area
of your area of your of body.A spirit broken incapactates every fiber of your being.Am I beyond fixing?God,I've failed sometimes as a son I should be left for dead.
How do I deal a world that can't be trusted?Self interest has been put first.These weight of doubt bring me to the point of losing hope.Hope is all I have in You.
You didn't leave me, I left you.
Time heals all wounds they say.But healing leaves scar tissue that builds around my heart.It builds walls between you and
I.So easy to walk away,not so easy to stay.
In my brokeness all I can do is crawl to a place I felt safe as a child.In my father's arms.It was the place of my refuge.As I lay down to sleep with my heavy heart,may I be silent enough
to hear the unspoken words that You are near.Take the broken pieces while I sleep and let me love again.Tears,where have you gone from me?
Amen.