getting better

A sweet, well-meaning friend recently asked me if I was “better now”… and when I answered that it doesn’t “get better” when ones’ husband and daddy dies, she said reassuringly “…well, I’m sure it gets a little better each day, you heal a little every day…” I heard her heart and loved her for what she was trying to say.

I just smiled, sadly, because I knew she just didn’t know. The question flitted through my head, “…please put the shoe on your foot for a moment and try to think of your answer to that question…” Why is it that because time has passed it is assumed that one heals?

The pain is daily and it is everywhere. When I go to bed it is painful, when I sit alone in church, it is painful. When I see my children hurting, it is painful. When I applaud at a child’s performance and look over to share a proud laugh with their dad and find no one; it is painful…. Every day is full of moments that make me want to cry…

But for every pang, every anguished cry, I look at my Savior, standing here with me, most often holding me, and He is the answer to every question, every tear shed in private is witnessed and thought of by the God of the universe! “…He collects every tear and stores them...”

I think the mistake is in thinking that if you are still hurting that something is wrong – I rather think to embrace that, to experience the pain fully and take it to the One who can bear it; that makes one whole again.
In my darkest struggles I look up and through tear stained vision see the eyes of unimaginable Love gazing back at me and I am held. I have no other answer or reason than… Him.

I don’t know how sorrow and joy can coexist – but I know they can. I have joy, I have delight, as I walk through fogs of pain and sadness. This is my foundation – the anchor for my shattered heart. In Christ alone do I glory…on this rock I place my trust.