Lady Cowman's book was written for me. She writes her story on every page. Streams in the Desert is finding that stream of refreshing in a dry gnarly wilderness where only the gila monsters and jackals live.
Saturday, July 2, 2011
The Pillar and the Cloud
Every day is like the same. Nothing new under the sun. I wake up with pain and I go to sleep with pain. I somehow manage to exist during the day. The days do not grow easier to bear. I just keep going. But neither to the left nor to the right do I see the cloud or the pillar of fire. I have no direction except the beating of my own heart which refuses to stop. Last night a wicked thought came to my mind as I held the bottle of sleeping pills. I knew that even though I cannot hear my Master's voice, there are other presences readily available to speak. I must journey on, even in the dark. I share my burden with the only one who understands how the wearing of the yoke and mantle feels, the Christ himself. My head is too small for just one. It holds the treasures of eternity and no one mind can store its weight and so I must return the gift of abundance back to the giver. s
Lady Cowman's book was written for me. She writes her story on every page. Streams in the Desert is finding that stream of refreshing in a dry gnarly wilderness where only the gila monsters and jackals live.
Oh where is the hidden stranger who walks beside me? Where is the rescuer and the comforter? Where do they hide in the night. I cannot be still for the forest of noise overwhelms me with its silence and my heart returns to April 25, 2011. Night after night the scene replays its majestic and awesome picture that severed my heart in two.
Lady Cowman's book was written for me. She writes her story on every page. Streams in the Desert is finding that stream of refreshing in a dry gnarly wilderness where only the gila monsters and jackals live.
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Judy, you're in my thoughts and prayers. Thank you for sharing your heart. Grief is such an odd thing, and it's impact on our daily lives unexpected. We know that God is with us even in the silence, even in the pain--Christ our Hope of Glory has not left our side.
ReplyDeleteEnjoyed a new sunrise this morning in my garden, and hope you did also, Judy,
ReplyDeleteAlso read "we will never say 'our gods' to what our own hands have made" in morning meditation, which reminded me of the ending of Tree of Life movie when Sean Penn smiles at the buildings and bridge his architect hands made as his father had been so proud of his 27 patents...... I neglected, I think, to mention to you, MY BEST FAVORITE THING ABOUT THE MOVIE, which was also my best favorite thing about The Shack, God never quits calling and inviting.
Then read your Saturday post of pain. Remember my saying both Hans and I are good with road to Emmaus? Blindsided is one good description of grief experience. You did not get to this place of pain in a few weeks, why suppose you will get to some 'new normal' in a few weeks?
I can offer no bromide but to remind you the experience does change and who knows if/when it truly ends......every one is different.
His mercies are new every morning and I did learn, in retrospect, it's all Grace.
stephanie.