Sentimental Stones
I recently sold a bunk bed. When I see these words in print, they seem like small talk. They seem like the sort of thing you tell a friend while catching up at a coffee date. It is just furniture. However, every time I have tried to say them out loud, I can feel a dry lump in my throat. A lump that must be big because I know it is the force that is holding back a flood of tears. So, instead I don’t say it out loud. I just talk about my girls new beds. Don’t be confused, I am not overly sentimental. Most people in my generation grew up in houses filled with stuff and knick-knacks and try to be more minimal as adults. I have very few things from my childhood. No 80s toys, No baby blankies, No pictures. Everything I have almost makes it seem as if I didn’t exist before 2004. Some sort of witness protection plan.
I am coming to understand that the things that I am sentimental about are more like the stones at the Jordan river. The things that remind us of struggles and triumphs. The things that remind us of where the Lord has brought us through. The proof of what we believe and why we believe it.
I have this brown bowl in my kitchen. I think it probably came out in the 60s and most likely has lead paint. I keep it put away and ask my family to not use it as I don’t want it to get broke. It was my grandmother’s grapefruit bowl. Well, she would usually have a bowl of smacks cereal, then a grapefruit. She taught me about resilience and a quiet strength that is required to survive. She taught me to be grateful for even hard times because that is how we are refined. She tried to teach me that I didn’t have to have the last word… It would take decades for that to sink in. I am sentimental about that bowl.
I have a piece of the bomb that blew up my husband in 2006. It isn’t to remember the anxiety of standing in a guard tower for 6 hours watching the smoke in the distance and not knowing if he had been put in a body bag yet. It is to remind me of what I felt when I saw him again. 8 hours after the blast came over the radio, I was leaving for a security patrol out the gate when his convoy came through the gates. I first saw his big recovery truck mangled being towed by a recovery tank. You could see that the blast went right under the driver’s seat… his seat. I didn’t see him…and my chest felt so heavy I couldn’t breathe. Then I looked behind the truck and I saw him walking. His uniform was almost black and torn in a few places. His flak vest was hanging off him. He had his helmet in one hand and his rifle in the other. I didn’t run to him, and he didn’t run to me. We simply gave each other a nod that said everything that couldn’t be verbalized. The nod that gave us both the confidence to keep going. Then I drove out the gate down the road he just came from. I am sentimental about that scrap of metal.
Then I have these bunk beds… well had. We bought these beds in 2012 when we moved back to Oklahoma. We were staying with my dad while we were waiting to find a house here. My husband and I stayed on the bottom bunk and my son stayed on the top bunk. Then we bought a house and the bunk beds became my sons big boy beds in his own big boy room. This is the bed I tucked my son into for years. The years where I was lost, unhappy, and often drunk. This was his bed I woke him up in on his very first day of school. Then we ended up moving my son to another room and gave the bed to my youngest. My youngest who screamed and cried nonstop for a few years, so someone usually had to sleep in there with her. I would pray while holding her through her fits of rage until she passed out. I prayed that God would heal her little body. My in-laws slept in it when they would visit. They slept in it when they stayed here and helped me through a neck surgery, through a shoulder surgery, through cancer removal surgery, through a hysterectomy, through implant removal surgery. Army friends slept in it when they would stop in to reminisce the old days. There was also a time when marriage was especially hard. Times when my husband and I wouldn’t talk for days at a time. Times when I was just broken. During these times, I slept in this bed. I would cry myself to sleep and beg God to heal my husband, heal me, and heal our family. It was in this bed that I begged God to take my life if he wouldn’t heal my broken mind. The bed became a place of prayer for me.
Well, both of my girls will now be homeschooled, and I wanted to get them both beds with desks. So, the old bunk beds needed to go. When I listed the bed for sale, it took a few weeks to sell. I sold it to a nice family of 7. When they picked it up, I forgot the ladder and had to take them the ladder. While getting the ladder out of my SUV, I saw a place where my middle child had written, “I love you God”. It was on the underside of the bottom ladder step. (I knew it was her because she has written on most things in our home over the years.) Every memory of this bed flashed through my mind, and I almost lost it in the parking lot. Apparently, I am sentimental about that bed. After I put the ladder in the new owner’s car, I walked back to my car as I could feel tears well up in my eyes.
While I know that my family is far from perfect and we are continuing to be healed by God, I know we are also living answered prayers. Prayers that were spoken from that bed. I was suddenly emotional over a piece of furniture, but it was really that I was emotional over the reminder of what the LORD has done in my family. I was emotional over how far he has brought us. I was emotional over a God that has allowed us to live in a valley, so that when we are on a mountain, we will remember him. Then, I was reminded of Jacob’s rest and the ladder in his dream. Most of all I was reminded of what he said after his rest.
“Surely the Lord is in this place, and I did not know it.” (Genesis 28:16)
I have been on a long sabbatical since January 1st. After doing ministry for 7 years, I needed a long rest. Over the span of seven years I walked in discipling relationships with 18 women and 4 men, I led dozens of teens in student discipleship, I was a youth camp counselor for 4 years, I taught in kids ministry, I led worship on Sundays, I became a speaker at a family camp, and I organized and preached at 3 women’s conferences. On top of that I was also busy with non-ministry things. Years of coaching soccer teams. Being the president of a soccer club. Serving in random PTA functions. Advocating for my kids education. Running a small business. Being a wife, mom, friend, daughter. Doing all the things, ministry and other things, started to make me tired and I felt far from God. To say I needed rest, was an understatement. I have had a good rest over the last 7 months. I have been waiting for the Lord to bring me out of rest. I have been waiting for the sign to “get up”. Watching the bed leave has told me that my rest is coming to an end. Watching our ladder leave has reminded me of the presence of God in my life. I didn’t know what the Lord wanted to show me during the rest. Apparently, he wanted to remind me of the things he has done and that he has never been far from me. Being reminded of what Jacob said has shown me that when I do come out of rest, I just want to be where the Lord is. There are many things that I don’t plan to do anymore. Some are ministry things, some are not. However, whatever I find myself doing, I just want to be where the Lord is. Anything that reminds me of the Lord and his goodness and his faithfulness, I plan to be sentimental about that.








