I have been wanting to post for a while now (I apologize-a month without so much as a hello is a long time), but every time I jumped over here to write I either couldn't get the words right or was interrupted (my Colton is walking now-let the fun begin!)
The last few weeks have been tough for many reasons, some I can talk about and some I cannot. Not everything is appropriate to share here. However, I would like to ask for prayer. God knows what I need so just lift me up. I cannot express how thankful I am in advance for you- all of you. You have been such faithful friends in Christ.
A few weeks ago a Marine family living in base housing on Camp Pendelton lost their home, every possession they had, and their 13 year old daughter, in a house fire. Words cannot explain the devastation this family is experiencing. The entire community has been traumatized. I spent almost three hours one afternoon last week (just listening mostly) to a grief-stricken and heart-broken mom. I took some tea to her, but mostly I just wanted her to know that she is not alone.
I felt so alone when girls died.
Being with her, although a privilege as I have never even met this woman before and she trusted me enough to let me into her life even if for an afternoon, during the most painful time she has ever experienced, stirred up so much of my own grief- grief I thought I had dealt with but discovered was just lying dormant in the hidden places of my heart. I saw so much of my pain in her. The things she said, how she said them, even some of the questions she asked, sounded like me talking three years ago.
I recognized her brokenness and it hurt my heart.
I drove home after meeting with her so heavy hearted. I cried in the car, not only for her, but for myself and every other mother who has lost a child. I was surprised at how quickly my compassion turned to raw pain. I think there are some feelings that can never be forgotten and the moment it hit me that my babies were gone is one of them. I wish that feeling on no one.
Since that afternoon I have poured myself back into trying to find the magic cure for pain. There has to be something God, something to say or do, something to make it easier, something to help... There isn't one just so you know. No pill or potion. Not even time.
And He holds us and heals us in ways that we can't always see or feel. Sometimes He just sits with us and lets us find rest in Him. He tends to us perfectly, just as we need individually, doing a complete work, not rushing to just end the pain, but working carefully and with love to supernaturally heal our ruined hearts for our good and His glory.
We don't always feel it. We often don't understand it. But we do have to choose it.
I had to ask God to come near to me again as I drove home that day. To show himself to me close enough to touch. To talk to me by whispering in my ear. To hold me even when I feel unworthy and to call my name when I am too weary to lift my eyes to heaven.
I want my tears to fall right on to God's lap. I want to be that close. It has been a while since I have been that close.
I will leave you with a quote from Max Lucado that fits perfectly here from his book God Came Near.
"Has it been a while since you have seen Him? If your prayers seem stale, it probably has. If your faith seems to be trembling, perhaps your vision of him has blurred. If you can't find power to face your problems, perhaps it is time to face Him."
I know its time for me.