Last night, a year-long held breath was released. A breath of hope and prayer and waiting. With the release, mourning. Sadness requiring head-clearing, stomach-calming walks. Walking and breathing and crying and praying.
This is not the end to the waiting I hoped for, and my emotions come in waves. Sadness, grief. Irritation, anger. Hurt, heartbreak. Still my heart, O Lord. I feel the unnatural ripping away from something meant to stay joined. It is raw and wrong. My remembering body rejects it.
But God. So kind to me in my pain and confusion. Each day meeting me with renewed mercy, with daily bread. Like the Israelites, I look down at His daily mercy bread and ask “what is it?”. Has the Lord forgotten to be gracious? I ask how long. I pray with waning hope. I pull away.
But you, Lord, my gracious Father, run after me. You are faithful even when I question your goodness. You are patient when I ask the Almighty God of the Universe “how long?” and “why?”. Such things are too marvelous for me.
My restless, emotional, tossy-turny heart now rests content. Cried out, tired, like a weaned child with its mother. You are here, Lord. In the breaking and the shaping and the furnace burning, you carry me. In your arms, I rest.
