MERCY

All of my family at church the Sunday before Christmas.

My first Christmas in six years without tears! Oh there were plenty of tears the weeks before Christmas and even after, but on the day we celebrated Christmas with our kids and grandkids I had no tears. I felt no sadness, only joy to be surrounded by my three children and four grandchildren. Amy was missed, but lovingly remembered.

Decorating was hard, too many memories of happier times with all my loved ones present. Forty years of Christmases spent in this house or on the farm in Iowa as a family. Some of our ornaments and decorations are that old! So many many memories!

We had a very busy schedule, so I was tired more, also contributing to tears. We have had so many overnight guests in the last two months. This is very unusual for me. I'm not one that is "given to hospitality." I always thought that I never filled the role of a "deacons wife" because of this, but Bill was a deacon for many years. Maybe that is just another of those ideas I have been taught over the years without seeing and understanding the whole picture. God made me the way I am, some are "given to hospitality" and some have other ways of sharing Gods love. For years I have felt like I don't measure up, but as I study Gods' Word more and more I discover that there is a freedom and joy that comes from serving the Lord. Serving in the midst of pain and grief, serving through tears, and exhaustion. I can serve God as I rock my grandchildren to sleep, run the vacuum, send cards to others and yes even the "traditional" way of having others over.

God has been preparing my heart for a special way to serve Him over the last few months. In September a young girl (20) asked me to start mentoring her. I don't care for that term, so I just prefer to think of it as a friendship that is spanning a few decades of age! We meet once a week and talk about what God has showed us in His Word and pray for each other. A little over a week ago she texted me to ask for prayer for wisdom because she was in need of a place to stay. Last Sunday God was very clear to me during our church service. "You have a room, ask her to stay." But no Lord, that is Amy's room now. All her things are in there. I can't. "Yes, you can. It's time. Pack up Amy's things. Ask her to live with you."

And so I did. I asked with tears, she accepted with tears.

Yesterday I boxed up all of Amy's stuff. All her things I have kept over 31 years of time, from the tiny t-shirt and booties she wore as a baby to the obituary notice in the paper and the cards we received after she passed away. I thought I would make myself sick because I cried so hard. But as He always does, when we obey, God gave me strength to do it.

Today Emily helped me move the furniture around and in two days I will have a new "daughter" living here. I can say this with joy and peace in my heart and no tears.

Each year I choose a word for the year.

My word for this new year is "mercy". God has shown me so much mercy over the years. He has, in His mercy, showed me how to walk this path of grief, this path of life as I get older, this path of mom to adult children and this path of grandma. He has mercifully led us over the past year to our new church home and new friends we call family.

This morning we sang, "Multiplied", a fairly new song to me.

"Your love is like radiant diamonds
Bursting inside us we cannot contain
Your love will surely come find us
Like blazing wild fires singing Your name

God of mercy sweet love of mine
I have surrendered to Your design
May this offering stretch across the skies
And these Halleluiahs be multiplied"

There was that word mercy. I'm sure the first of many times it will jump out to me as my word, grace, did for me last year.

Oh dear Lord, may my Hallelujahs be multiplied.

I've been thinking I should change the name of this blog. For the last year or so it has not seemed like it is Amy's Story anymore, but mine. Then I heard someone speak about the verse Philippians 1:6 “For I am confident of this very thing, that He who began a good work in you will perfect it until the day of Christ Jesus.”

Amy's story didn't end when she died. It continues until Christ comes back. It continues through my life, and her siblings, even through the niece and nephews who are learning of her and on down through the generations.

About a week before Christmas I was helping my grandsons make crafts for presents. I told them that I had made this craft with Aunt Amy. Little Will, who is 4, said, “Mommy has told me about Aunt Amy. She lives in heaven with Jesus. Did her Mommy and Daddy go to heaven with her when she died?” Tears were already in my eyes at his words and now started running down my face. “O Will, I am Aunt Amy's Mommy and Grandpa is Aunt Amy's Daddy.” His eyes

got big and he said, “Do you miss her?” More tears, “Yes dear boy, I miss her so very much.” But I was able to smile and said, “She is so happy living with Jesus, it makes me happy, too, even though I miss her.”

A few days later we got a call from this little guy telling us he had given his heart to Jesus.

The angels are rejoicing! The Hallelujahs are being multiplied!