Silent presence

The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.

Psalm 34:18

 

The journey of grief isn't a fixed highway with predictable twists and turns, nor are the valleys and mountains discernible from the traveler's viewpoint. All the traveler sees is the hard, unrelenting road of sorrow. Grief darkens his view of the sky. Eventually, however, he begins to see glimmers of light. And though he could not see the Lord for the dark, He was there all along. After all, it is the Lord who has helped him, carried him, guided him, and whispered truth to him since the beginning.

It's been a good week for me. I never thought I'd say that again. (Of course, my definition of good has also changed since losing Matt, too.) Unfortunately, it hasn't been a good week for my husband. He came to bed last night and wept beside me. It's so very hard to hear your husband crying from the depths of his heart. He's a strong man, almost always cheerful and positive, but he misses his boy. It's somewhat strange now in that we aren't both crying on the same day much any more. At first, it was always like that. Not so much now. I can see how others feel, wanting to help, yet feeling helpless to take away your pain. It's hard. However, I've learned that one's silent presence is tremendously comforting. 

Additionally, I've learned from grief, too, that people will disappoint you. They will fail you. I will fail people (and have). I will disappoint people (and have). But GOD never fails. He never gives up. He never leaves us. One thing remains...the Lord's love for us.



I know it was no mistake, either, when I finally got around to reading my devotional today from Streams in the Desert. Just at the right time, even if my timetable doesn't line up. He is there, a silent presence.