IT WAS HARD TO COMPREHEND, as I turned the page of my “Porch Calendar” to January 2007, that a year had come and gone since I’d experienced the pleasure of my husband’s warm embrace.
The year which had passed seemed like a long journey. Physically, emotionally and spiritually I felt a lifetime away from where I was before Michael’s death. A verse from Amazing Grace was ringing in my ears, “Through many dangers, toils and snares I have already come, it’s grace that’s brought me safe thus far and grace will lead me home.”
Though much of life continued in a state of flux, my faith in God remained a constant – the same faith my husband and I shared. And yet, in Michael’s absence my faith had been immeasurably enriched by the depths of grief and heights of joy experienced with God. He’d taken me over paths which could only be traveled alone with him. None of it was my choice, but in retrospect I consider it God’s gift. He used the depths and heights to show himself to me and allow me to taste his glory.
My place of solace was the old wooden porch situated outside the kitchen door at the back of my Little Farm Road cottage. It faces south and there’s plenty of sunshine in the early part of the day. Sue Jarmer had painted the porch and barn on the back corner of the property dark green velvet so it would be easy on the eye and blend in with the natural surroundings. Shades of yellow and peach Hibiscus trees add a tropical fruit splash on either side of the porch. At the end of the lower deck grows a gorgeous wine colored bougainvillea. Night blooming jasmine adds a delicious fragrance.
From the back porch one is afforded a view of pine trees, Florida oaks, banana plants and the little butterfly garden. Periodically two coal black Irish Dexter steers drift into the picture grazing between the fence and pond on the southern most edge. Here is my balm in Gilead. The holy ground where God says, “Come now, let us reason together…”
An early morning breakfast makes a particularly apt occasion for meeting with the Lord in that place. We’ve spent hours together in sweet communion on the back porch. We had so much to sort out after Michael left.
In the early days following his death, God supplied the grace necessary to sustain me by making his presence and love real to me in exceptional measure. Some mornings on the back porch when I’d look up to the azure blue sky streaked with white clouds, the sun shining brightly, while a swallow tailed kite soared overhead, I could just about see him like the prophet Isaiah, “…seated on a throne high and exalted… And they were calling to one another: ‘Holy, holy, holy is the Lord Almighty; the whole earth is full of his glory!”
Such spiritual highs gave me a sense of confidence that, even though my life had come unglued, I was on track and headed in the right direction. That’s the way God is; he faithfully supplies the right amount of grace.
Times like these on Little Farm Road have served as my inspiration to write. I pray that the Light on Little Farm Road will draw you to join me in worshiping the Majesty on High!
