It isn’t often I’m at a loss for words.
I went to bed last night with a discouraged, weary, aching soul.
This week was full of painful news from friends and acquaintances. Stories of babies born, never taking a breath of air and stepping into heaven before even laying on the chest of their waiting mother.
Young adults who find adulthood more than they expected. That long awaited stage of life holds a heavy weight of responsibility and often disappointment.
As parents, there is so little that can be done to ease pain. No words will bring back what was lost.
At best, we can walk beside and offer comfort in the mingling of tears.
We can support them as they traverse the dark stony path so at least they won’t be alone.
We just can’t walk it for them.
In the quiet of the night, when little is moving outside, the grieving heart becomes unsettled in the stillness.
The heaviness of spirit does little to keep the noise of loss away.
This is when the prayers I take for granted as a luxury break through to become groaning. Scripture assures me that the Holy Spirit speaks for me when my words fail.
When the world around me tilts off its axis and the things we hope for are lost in tragic moments, I know, I am not alone.
Jesus prayed for us and sent us the Holy Spirit to bring us comfort. To whisper into our heart and our soul and our mind.
That gives me strength. Strength to pray, to love and to carry on.
I can take another breath of life, another step toward freedom, another armful of hope, mercy and grace.
Then and only then do I have what I need to walk alongside those in the darkest of their days.
Only then can I reflect His light, without a word.