Tears streak down his face.
Somewhere deep inside I breathe a prayer of thanks. Thank you that this is the injustice he struggles with today…how many cartoons he got to pick.
When mommas hold their breath on the edge of fields of rubble….
When family’s salvage treasures from under destroyed houses….
When storms ravage and life hurts….
Thank you, father, for the tears of innocent childhood.
My heart hurts for them…them. Those who are victims of storms, of fear, of a life that seems cruel. I think of them as clouds hang dark and close over a blanket of destruction that just a breath ago was neighborhoods and life. Those moments when why can hardly be uttered and God seems so far away…when the air tastes like grief and it is hard to see grace through the debris.
I turn off the tv and close the news webpages. Shielding little hearts and eyes from images my heart can barely take. And then I realize the luxury of these moments. That lunches and backpacks were backed yesterday with love…no knowledge of final goodbyes or last mommy hugs. This day was like any other until death broke in. And my heart screams for the mothers who know a grief I cannot fathom…and I whisper for God to come close…because that’s all I can do.
Here I sit, my babies safe, my home intact.
My heart aches and I want to whisper, why???
All I can do is lean into Jesus and know that He knows….that He is there. That it is the Lord’s sovereignty that I praise in the sunshine and question in the rain. And I know that He is God of restoration….as sure as spring comes after a barren and cold winter…as sure as the sun after the storms in Oklahoma…as sure as the stone rolled from the empty tomb.
When hearts ache in the waiting for answers….Jesus.
When life feels destroyed and our security seems broken…Jesus.
When it is dark and the storms loom large….Jesus.
My heart is heavy today…for a land I’ve never walked on, for families I’ve never met.
I whisper prayers…short…heavy…
Lord, please be there.
Jesus hold them.
As sun streams through the windows and little hands push pencils across paper. The dog’s slow breathing moving my furry footstool slowly up and down. The birds (and cicadas) filling the air with siren songs. The sounds of laundry and vacuuming filling in the chorus of normal life. Thank you, Father, for this breath, this life, this love…fleeting though it is.