For such a time as this

These days have all been about crushing grief and the full realization of the cost of truth.  Scratch that.  The cost of lies when confronted with the truth.

I know I have cried like this before.  My precious Nathanael was, and is, so much a part of my heart and my consciousness, his death ripped a great hole in me that no number of tears could fill.  I am weeping in the same fashion, yet my grief is so much more complicated now.  Again it is the loss of someone I love unfathomably, and yet it is the death of trust and dreams and memories.  It is the overwhelming reality as I walk around Covenant Creek and see piles of unfinished projects, equipment that has been neglected because of another’s grief, the loss of my help and encouragement – all my dreams have come crashing down, replaced by labor that drains my very soul.  As my husband is in bondage as a result of sin, I am in bondage to the consequences of sin.

The nature of grief is the death of hopes and dreams.

The isolation is deafening.  I sympathize – truly, people don’t know what to say to me.  There are those gracious saints who simply let me know they care, they’re praying, they’re available to help when I ask.  And then there are the others, saints as well, but so intent on telling me what’s on their own agenda that they don’t even see how their thoughtlessness is crushing an already crushed spirit.  Oh God, protect me from your people as you protect my husband from the evil that surrounds him.

I am nearly finished with the transition of my business.  A few more days, and in the following weeks, I shall know what has been saved and what has been lost.  The sun came out today and I mowed the lawn.  I marked several trees to cut for firewood.  All through these chores I kept asking God, what’s the point?  I forget to breath, and when I realize I haven’t breathed, I think, what’s the point?  Then my body takes over and automatically sucks in life-giving oxygen.  I am in a place where I can see everyone’s future but my own.  Mine just seems black.

Greater love has no man than this – that he lays down his life for a friend.  Or a child.  What an impossible situation – to have to choose between one life and another, loving both. 

I heard the question, When you think about looking into the face of God, what expression is on His face when He looks back at you?  I thought, delight.  God delights in me.  And sorrow.  As my children weep, so do I.  I know my Father weeps with me at my brokenness and despair. 

I know from my life that He is faithful, gracious, loyal in love, yet I don’t feel Him near.  More due to my own pain than any movement away on His part.  For the moment, and I’m sure only the moment, I have run dry of tears.  As I continue to wind down my day and activity is replaced with solitary quietness, I’m sure a few at least will appear. 

People keep telling me I’m strong.  I’ve come to hate those words.  I know how weak and broken I am, yet will I praise Him.  I know how burdened and ill-equipped I am, yet will I praise Him.  I am terrified for the future, my husband’s particularly, yet will I praise Him.  Because in truth, that’s all I can do.