Grief really makes me feel a lot of things. Like at any moment I will burst in tears. Angry. Sitting in the dark with you last night and feeling helpless. Feeling sorrow for her, her mom, her family. Ughh. That was the only thing that seemed to come out of my mouth. Other things too that I can’t remember. It was late and dark. And oh please. And tears.
Death. Of someone I don’t know. I want to get on a plane and go be with my friend. Hug her. And I can’t LORD. And it blows. I love that I get to be here for her even though it seems so small. But right now, I wish I could just go and give her and her mom a hug. Give her chocolate. Maybe no words at all.
But instead I’m going to sit here and stare into space. Because I don’t know what else to do. You redeem sorrow. The pit. And you crown us with tender mercies. You give beauty for ashes. You are the God of ALL comfort. You are near to the broken hearted and crushed in spirit. You are well aquatinted with our grief. You sympathize with us. You are moved by our grief to the point of anger because this isn’t how it should be. And yes, we will in a broken world, but you are our relief.
Be near us. LORD. Hold us together in this numbness and when we fall apart. Hold us up. Have mercy and grace beneath our feet. Carry this load with us and us because we are too weak.
LORD. You are gracious and kind and compassionate. Slow to anger and abounding in lovingkindness. Meet us today quickly. Let us see your face even as we sink beneath this weight, with no words to speak.
Don’t forget your suffering ones, don’t despise us in this grief.
letters from a tender haired girl. (This is the previous letter with links to the beginning at the bottom of that post.)