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Listen to Episode 15: Crescent moons and coughing fits by Rachel Joy Welcher MP3 song. Episode 15: Crescent moons and coughing fits song from Rachel Joy Welcher is available on Audio.com. The duration of song is 03:24. This high-quality MP3 track has 513.652 kbps bitrate and was uploaded on 12 Jun 2024. Stream and download Episode 15: Crescent moons and coughing fits by Rachel Joy Welcher for free on Audio.com – your ultimate destination for MP3 music.
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A mother writes to her friend about a special moment with her daughter. They saw a crescent moon and sat together in the grass, finding comfort in each other's presence. The mother expresses her fears and worries, constantly juggling responsibilities and appointments. She reflects on the fragility of life and her struggles with loss. However, she finds solace in her daughter's love and the presence of God. Despite her challenges, she knows they will be okay with Jesus by their side. Crescent moons and coughing fits. Dear Hildegard, tonight we saw a crescent moon. You spotted it on our walk to the car outside the hospital where we left daddy for the night. You have seen moons before but only in books. This time you saw one in the real night sky. When I put you in your car seat you cried because you couldn't see it anymore. When we got home we tried to find it again and when we finally did you plopped right down in my lap in the middle of our dusky front lawn. We sat in the grass together listening to the cicadas chirp looking up at that moon. I needed that moment. Life has been so hard lately but you you are always joy and wonder with sprinkles of entertaining honoriness. You are more than I ever thought to ask God for. Either because I don't have great faith or because I lack imagination. Either way I got you. We got you. Your dad and I. And after years of loss we still haven't gotten over getting to be married to each other let alone getting to be your mom and dad. You are just over the top over the moon. I know my threads are showing lately. Unraveling a bit. Afraid. I'm less patient than I want to be. I'm scared and worried and frazzled. I'm texting constantly to set up sitters for you or to renew medications for your dad or set up appointments when what I want is to just look up and focus on what you are drawing with that purple crayon. You call it blue. Close enough. I would love to be stronger for you. Instead when trouble rains down I get scared. I picture loss like a game of dominoes or Jenga. When one piece moves the entire structure of life quakes. At least it feels that way. I've struggled with these images of teetering and collapse ever since the first great loss. I don't think I've ever fully recovered from the realization that God's love and suffering coexist. I don't think I've ever gotten over the book of Job honestly or the habit of looking over my shoulder. Thankfully instead of turning me into a pillar of salt God shows patience and mercy. He knows that we are made of dust. Dustlings your dad calls us. Remember that my love. It's okay to be human because that is what we are after all. And when God made us he called his creation good. You are dusty and you are good. This season of daddy coughing and pain and you running over to put your favorite blanket across his knees won't last forever. Your little frame takes in so much. The emotions and frailty of the past month have not been lost on you. But we continue to visit the tomato garden every evening snacking on its providence. And we cuddle up and read your favorite books. And you hug daddy's legs and he says is that my Hilde bear? And you smile and pat his feet. And we still look we still look up at that moon. We're gonna be okay. And when we're not Jesus is right there beside us. Sometimes he even cries with us. He is that kind that good.
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