Sons of the Shepherd

Giving Thanks with a Broken Heart       Grief has a way to changing things, even the most sacred of things.  It changes how we define things, perceive things, and the weight of value that we place into something.  Grief can paint a totally different picture of events after losing someone.  One of the things that grief has changed the hues of color is holidays.  Don't get me wrong, I love holiday.  There is something magical amount gathering together as a family. The mix of food, tradition , and predictability is like sitting by a warm fire on a cold day.  People that grieve still know that holidays exist, but sometimes the thoughts of them are down right depressing.  Dread has replaced excitement.  Holiday events feel like chores instead of cherished moments.  At times these wonderful moment of holiday bliss remind us of our wound.  It's almost like ripping a band aid off.  Holidays have a way of exposing the empty...

  Well Done Our last family vacation at Rehoboth Beach This was taken less than one month before she passed away        The calendar turned from the 24th to the 25th with such ease that no one noticed.  It was a normal November day for every other person on planet earth, except for me and Tiffanie. Prior to last year that date held no significance to me.  It’s amazing how a date that bears no meaning can all of a sudden be permanently etched into your mind for the rest of your days. The decades we had hoped for, the life that we planned now slipped away to hours.  Hours.  That simple word to describe time brings such a pang into my heart.  Fathom the word hours for a moment. Imagine that someone told you that you only had a few hours left with the person you love the most. What would you be doing? What conversations would you be having? I never in 1 million lifetimes thought that my last few hours with tiff would’ve been spent in a hospi...

The Treasure of the  Last Night       One year ago tonight I didn’t know it would be my last night as a husband. Husband. One of the most honorable titles in the world. I LOVED being a husband. It was my favorite thing to be in the entire world. Only one person could call me that title. Only one person could be my best friend, my lover, my helpmate. I loved taking care of Tiff, providing for her, praying for her, treasuring her. I never in all my days thoughts there would come a time when I was no longer a husband. It still startles me to this day. I knew in those last few weeks that I would trade titles from husband to widower, one of the most unfair exchanges in all the world.       If I had known, maybe I would have tried to hold time still—pressed pause on every moment, memorized every glance, every smile, every breath. I would have counted her breaths, romanticized her extra, made her laugh a little more. But God, in His mercy, didn’t let me k...

The Calm Before the Storm       There are certain moments in life that carve themselves into your soul—not because of what went wrong, but because of what went beautifully right. For me, it was the weekend before my sweet Tiffanie passed away. We needed a reprieve, a break in the storm clouds. Looking back, it feels like God placed a gentle calm in the middle of a gathering storm. A moment of peace before our world changed forever.  A moment of building before everything came crashing down.       We didn’t know it was her last good weekend. To be fair with you the previous day was one filled with goodbyes. We weren’t sure if she would ever see another sunrise. Imagine my surprise when on Saturday morning she felt better, almost like she physically rebounded! Still, we didn’t know how close we were to the moment when our lives would split into “before” and “after,” almost like a break of BC and AD in our calendar . I never thought I would have a BT and...

  He Shall Reign Forevermore       November 22nd.  If I live another sixty years I will always remember this as one of the worst days of my life.  Some of you might be familiar with Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day.  This is one of my favorite books.  It details the foibles of a very unlucky kid named Alexander.  Some of his exploits include not getting a toy in his cereal box, mom not packing his favorite treat for lunch, the teacher not liking his invisible picture, having to go to the dentist, not getting the shoes he wanted, his favorite pjs weren't clean, and having to eat lima beans for dinner.  Those are pretty hard things for a kid.  But one year ago today was a horrible, terrible, no good, very bad day for the Robinson household.         The day prior was fraught with disappointment and discouragement.   It was hard waking up each day not having hope or the expec...

  The Day that Hope Shifted       A few short days after the attack on Pearl Harbor, President Roosevelt said that the attack would be a day that lived in infamy.  Days of infamy are days that are burned into our minds.  Days that we will never forget during our earthly journey.  Those days aren't just historical, but they are personal too.  Some days mark you forever, almost like a brand.  The very thought of those days can cause such a turbulent mix of emotions.  For me, one year ago, this was one of those days of infamy.  Not infamy not just because of what happened, but because God carried me through.       For days doctors and nurses had been discussing Tiff's condition.  Heart doctors, lung doctors, floor doctors, etc all flooded her rooms.  The consensus was the same.  They were all being honest, none of them were dispensing much hope.  They were simply waiting for a final confirmation from ...

A Holy Conversation: Her Blessing to Love Again       There are certain moments in life so sacred that writing them down feels almost like stepping barefoot onto holy ground. One of those moments came during my wife’s final days—days filled with both heartbreaking tenderness and the unmistakable nearness of God.  Days that torment my soul but also that I treasure. Ones that felt painful but foreshadowed Gods sovereignty.  Days that didn't just change the present, but set the course for the future.  In those final five days Tiff gave me a heading to travel in, a heading that I am forever grateful for.       One year ago today I was sitting at my regular spot beside her bed, holding her hand, wishing I could somehow stop the clock. I hated the clock. Prior to her passing, I lived by a clock, but the clock reminded me that I was losing precious seconds with my love.  Her body was weak, but her spirit was steady and full of peace—“the pe...