Juggling horrifying and heavenly—being blown this way and that by the ever-shifting winds of life–such is the raw and rugged stuff of human existence in a broken world, not yet healed.
Yesterday, another terrifying and deadly bombing killed several and injured many in Boston. Closer to home, a dear friend found one of her horses dead—bled out—in pasture during morning feeding. Impaled by a metal post, a freak accident took the life of a beloved family member during the night while the rest of the herd stood beside, unable to do anything but offer the comfort of caring company.
My heart aches for those far whom I don’t know and for those near whom I do. I tire of life’s deep grief and tears. And yet . . .
There is unmistakable beauty. Breath-taking wonder. God-gifts of consolation and peace amidst the suffering. We can drink deeply of His goodness and generosity, knowing He knows our suffering and is ever at work in restoring all to His original plan and purpose. While we wait, we cling. We cling to His promises. We cling to our hope who IS the God of all. We offer this suffering world the hope in us—a taste of glory to come—to help other sufferers along the sometimes dark and painful path toward wholeness.
We are not meant to cry alone. We are meant for listening ears, empathic hearts, tear-absorbing shoulders, and hope-holders. We are meant for genuine, God-like relationship. God is WITH us. We need to be WITH others—really WITH them.
This weekend past, I had a new filling. An old friend came and camped out with me in our lakeside cottage. We laughed long and shed tears—shared triumphs and fears—sipped coffee and walked wide stretch of beach—sat by crackling fire—all to share each other and to give God as gift.
Such abundance God has given us and I want to give it back. I want God to take what He’s given and use it to bless others—to help others grow closer to the Giver of all gifts. So, though this weekend was only for two women and our God—I want to share some of the beauty we were blessed to absorb.
God’s beauty fills and restores and gives us a glimpse of His majesty. God’s beauty tells us He is grand and beyond word-description gorgeous. And somehow, when we soak it all in, as much as we humanly can, we know. We know peace. We hold hope. We anticipate a new day coming where all will be made right once again and there will be not more traumas of bombings and terror and unexpected, shocking death—either human or animal.
Glory is coming. And while we wait, we can taste Glory right where we are. Today.
The LORD is my light and my salvation—whom shall I fear? The LORD is the stronghold of my life—of whom shall I be afraid? When evil men advance against me to devour my flesh when my enemies and my foes attack me, they will stumble and fall. Though an army besiege me, my heart will not fear; though war break out against me, even then will I be confident. One thing I ask of the LORD, this is what I seek: that I may dwell in the house of the LORD all the days of my life, to gaze upon the beauty of the LORD and to seek him in his temple. . . I am still confident of this: I will see the goodness of the LORD in the land of the living. Wait for the LORD; be strong and take heart and wait for the LORD. Psalm 27:1-4 and 13-14.