It's been one of those days. You know the kind. The kick-in-your-stomach, head-pounding, heart- aching , kind of days. Truth be told, this is the third day like that in a row. It's as if all my buttons have been pushed at the same time. All my bruises rubbed raw. My muscles wound tighter than a spring. It feels difficult to even breathe.
And God?? My feeble attempts to cry out, seem to be falling on deaf ears.
I suppose this is one of those days where I am required “to walk by faith”. To trust that He hears my cries even when I am feeling neglected. To believe He remains sovereign, when the circumstances leave my heart panting on the floor. I suppose this is when I should “give thanks in everything”, even though that everything includes the slow dying of one I love. Includes watching this one suffer and witnessing his family suffer, as well.
It's been one of those days. The kind where I can no longer muster up enough energy to do even the slightest thing I “should.” I am incapable of thanksgiving or believing or even trusting. Not today. My body is too ravaged. My senses too dulled. My courage dried up.
And so I whimper.
In my whimpering, I am transported to a time when my son lay so small in a hospital bed. So sick. His body wracked with bacteria. His lungs filled to overflowing , making it difficult for him to even breathe. I hovered near. At the slightest whimper, I drew nearer still to comfort, to help, to hold. To reassure him of my presence, of my love. At the slightest whimper....
The Lord is near to the brokenhearted. Psalm 34:18
At my slightest whimper, the Lord draws nearer still. He longs to comfort, to help, to hold me while I weep. He wants to reassure me of His presence , of His endless love for me.
I whimper, and the Lord draws near.
I experience more of Him.
Thank You, Lord, that this has been one of those days.