Does Jesus care?

I flipped open the hymnal tonight looking for a song that I had had running in my head earlier today, but instead came across this one:

Does Jesus care?

(Casting all your care upon Him; for He careth for you. 1 Pet. 5:7)

Does Jesus care when my heart is pained
Too deeply for mirth or song,
As the burdens press, and the cares distress
And the way grows weary and long?

Refrain

Oh yes, He cares, I know He cares,
His heart is touched with my grief;
When the days are weary, the long nights dreary,
I know my Savior cares.

Does Jesus care when my way is dark
With a nameless dread and fear?
As the daylight fades into deep night shades,
Does He care enough to be near?

Refrain

Oh yes, He cares, I know He cares,
His heart is touched with my grief;
When the days are weary, the long nights dreary,
I know my Savior cares.

Does Jesus care when I’ve tried and failed
To resist some temptation strong;
When for my deep grief there is no relief,
Though my tears flow all the night long?

Refrain

Oh yes, He cares, I know He cares,
His heart is touched with my grief;
When the days are weary, the long nights dreary,
I know my Savior cares.

Does Jesus care when I’ve said “goodbye”
To the dearest on earth to me,
And my sad heart aches till it nearly breaks,
Is it aught to Him? Does He see?

Refrain

Oh yes, He cares, I know He cares,
His heart is touched with my grief;
When the days are weary, the long nights dreary,
I know my Savior cares.

We went to our church's annual Thanksgiving dinner last night. The dinner was good, but it was the time of thanksgiving and praise afterward that was difficult. I have heard so many times that this "trial" will make me stronger. The quoting of several verses such as from the book of James, chapter one, doesn't help, either. I don't want to endure. I don't want to be stronger. I'm just saying. Yet I know that is the flesh speaking. It is the heart of a mother grieving for her son. I also know, and take comfort in the fact, that God sees my heart. He knows that though I have no strength to praise Him with my mouth, I still worship Him in my heart.

I wanted to stand, as others did, and give praise for our church family, but I couldn't. Instead I sat there and cried. (Admittedly, I have learned to always carry tissue with me.) Being at church is, surprisingly, one of the most difficult places for me (and Tim) to be. We have been there all of our married life, eighteen years. Our church is, and has been, a HUGE part of our lives, and of our children's lives. It is a second home to us, so to speak.  I have yet to get through a Sunday morning without crying. Yet our church family is a big reason why we have been able to function. They have helped to carry our burden of grief these past 3 1/2 months.

As we enter into the holiday season, it's actually not the holidays I have a hard time with. It's every day. It's the commonplace, ordinary day I struggle with. It's the empty spot at the dinner table. It's the fact that I will forever now speak OF my son, but not TO him. It's the reality that Matt will never be in a family picture with us again. I never have been big on "tradition" or holidays. Our thing was birthdays. It was one of the few things I was traditional about. I always make a cut out cake from scratch. May 2nd is what I dread. It's not the holidays, per se.

So while I have struggled to stay afloat in this sea of grief, I have grabbed a hold of the only thing I can. God's love for me and my family. God has reminded me of this repeatedly. His word assures me that, though death makes no sense, it will not "be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord." (Romans 8:39)