Is faith always a never-faltering, wild “Hallelujah!”?
I don’t think so.
I think faith is essentially this: turning my face toward the God I love even when (especially when!) I’ve stopped expecting an answer and maybe even when my heart has despaired of help.
I would argue that faith is precisely that step forward into the dark unknown, onto the broken road, lifting the unbearable heaviness as an offering and trusting that
that He hears
and that He will not abandon me.
We’re all encouraged when we read through Psalms. But what did David endure to experience the depth of love he has for God? What kind of heart-shredding pain did he go through before understanding how real and present God was and just how much God loved him regardless of his brokenness?
Understanding the whole story of the Bible, it’s much easier to see that my brokenness has a purpose.”
~Laura Story, When God Doesn’t Fix It
I was caught unaware mid-morning by tears.
No reason, just my heart remembered that this life I’m living is not the life I expected.
Nowhere to go but to God.
No hope to cling to but His Word.
It’s the best I can do.
Sometimes I schedule a post the night before and wake up to a day that contradicts everything I just wrote.
Grief is like that.
Good day. Bad day. Better day. Worse day.
I can barely predict one moment to the next, much less a day or a week.
It’s easy for me to become discouraged when I stare at my own feet-measuring paltry progress when I long for leaps and bounds.
But truth is, no life is lived primarily by giant strides. It’s mostly baby steps and falling forward.
Got up this morning? Step.
Remembered to make that phone call? Step.
Smiled at the bird outside the window? Step.
Looked at Dominic’s picture and treasured the memory instead of crying? Step.
And when I trip over my broken heart listening to a song on the radio and tumble headlong into wracking sobs-I reach out and fall forward, still making a little progress toward learning to live through a day.
It doesn’t matter how fast or how far I’ve traveled in this Valley.
It only matters that I refuse to give up.
A precious sister-in-loss created this image.
It’s my theme song.
And the message of my heart.
Read the rest here: Monday Musings: Mercy
If you are a bereaved parent and can fly,
or walk to Hot Springs, Arkansas October 6-7
you will want to make the journey.
April Wendland, a bereaved mama with a heart to reach others with hope and love has organized a conference just for us.
And it’s *FREE* to bereaved parents.
From the website:
“THROUGH THIS VALLEY is a faith based conference designed BY bereaved parents, FOR bereaved parents.
We know the deep pain. We know the longing.
We know the questions. We know the heartache.
But we’ve also found some healing. We’ve found some peace for our hearts.
We’ve found some answers.
And we understand the Healer in new & grateful ways.
It is our desire to share what we’ve learned with other bereaved parents who are searching for answers. And being together with others who have gone through similar experiences somehow gives us all a little more strength & comfort too. You are not alone. There is hope. This conference will change the lives of those who have open hearts & ears to hear.
There is no charge to the bereaved parents for the THROUGH THIS VALLEY conference.
All speakers, attendees & most staff are bereaved parents.”
Wanna join me there?
Click here for more information or to register: Through This Valley
I am not a fan of church signs.
Most of the time they try to be cute and reduce eternal truth to a few words that often leave room for [mis]interpretaion.
But I saw one today that I DID like: “Dig the well before you are thirsty”.
Read the rest here: Dig the Well BEFORE You are Thirsty
This past little while I’ve started taking care of some things that have lingered long since Dominic left us.
The thought of doing them, of dealing with the details, and of trying to keep my tears behind my eyelids was overwhelming.
But they needed to be done.
So I’ve plunged ahead.
I’ve called on good friends to give me pep talks.
I’ve given myself pep talks.
Honestly, I’m exhausted. It will most likely take me a week to recover.
But I did it.
I didn’t give up. I didn’t give in. I marched forward and conquered the fear and anxiety.
And “Yay You!” to every heart that chooses to persevere
even when it’s hard
or feels impossible.