I Can't Breathe

Me? I can't breathe. Not sure how.
When you have been sucker-punched, by life, by hurt.
When the ground you are standing on, it sinks right down, and you plunge right with it. Into the depths. Of ache. Of uncertainty.
The year, it began innocently. Sheltering the storm, brewing.
My boat, it has been rocking, swamped with the wind pouring water straight inside. And it feels ready to capsize. To tip into the very depths.
It's been the son, battling the chemicals in his brain, lopsided.
It's been the one who rejected, searing my heart.
It's the sister, life stunted by strokes.
It's the daughter, doing combat against the cells, consuming. The one who will be on chemo, indefinitely.
And so, I wonder. How do I breathe through all this? How do I remain standing, when the sand keeps shifting?
And this is what I am learning. Right slow.
The one stable place to stand, is God.
"You are good, and the source of good; train me in Your goodness. "
 Psalm 119:68 Message
The son with lopsided brain cells? He doesn't change God's goodness.
The one who cast me aside? Can't change God's love.
My sister's wheelchair doesn't make a difference to His might.
And my daughter, walking through the valley? Can't. Change. His. Mercy.
My God? He remains the same.
You are good. (Inhale.)
You are wise. (Exhale.)
You are the God of all comfort. (Inhale.)
You are the Father of mercy. (Exhale.)
Ahh, this is how I breathe. Moment by moment. When I can't endure another second of waves that are overwhelming. I suck in His grace. Breathe in His faithfulness. Am steadied by His strength.
And my lungs fill once more.