Like Waves.

It comes and goes. Either in strong doses or a weak ache, it's my constant companion in these last few months.


The grief is not as strong as he is.


But honestly, I can feel it more than I feel him sometimes.
I know Truth. It has settled deep in my bones, just like it did for the prophet Jeremiah. But I refuse to lie to you tonight. Truth is not some kind of painkiller, a Lortab to make me sleep it off or something. It does not erase the pain.

Instead, it reminds me who can calm the waves.
the waves around me. the waves in me.


A wonderful thirtysomething mom was taken from her loving husband and children this week. I cried lots of tears for them tonight. Then I cried a little for my own self.

I was in the shower sobbing and I decided to once again take Anne Lamott's advice:

"Help me. Help me. Help me."
help me let the pain do its work so You can change me. help me survive this broken heart. help me be broken. help me not to be mad at You right now. help me to be brave enough to go ahead and ask the questions that scare me. help me to receive even the answers I cannot understand.


but also tempered with
"thank you. thank you. thank you."
thank You for twenty-two years of wisdom. of hugs and kisses. of snuggling on friday nights. of laughter. of loving each other and macaroni and tomatoes at ten pm. of living life with that beautiful creature that made me her priority.


I just hate it for that sweet lady's little boys. and I pray that they can start praying helpme/thankyou earlier than I did. and that they don't feel swallowed by all these waves.

"he is close to the brokenhearted. he rescues those who are crushed in spirit."