‘Cause what if Your blessings come through raindrops
What if Your healing comes through tears
What if thousand sleepless nights
Are what it takes to know You’re near
What if the trials of this life are Your mercies in disguise
Blessings, Laura Story
The day after the most heart-wrenching break-up of my life, I was spinning. I was drowning in my emotions, suffocating from the pain and confusion.
I was driving alone on Poplar Avenue, a main street in Memphis, and before I knew it, I was turning left into a cemetery.
I parked my car and walked around on the neatly pruned grass, admiring the bundles of flowers at my feet and feeling the wind caress my face. I was laden with grief, lacking hope, and saddled with sorrow. God knew.
It was December then. I watched discreetly from across the lot as a family decorated a Christmas tree for their departed loved one. It wasn't too cold for a winter day, and as I sat, cuddled by the large roots of an old tree, I let God carry my heart. The quietness resonated with my soul, eternity laying before me as a stretch of tombstones. I remember the reflection I gained in that solitude.
For a long time I struggled to understand why God would let me—me, the daughter He is supposed to love unconditionally and deeply—feel so much pain.
The aftermath of a thousand funerals was before me, the image casted when crowds have faded, the families have said farewell, and when God cradles you completely and solely in His arms.
Matt Chandler said in a sermon, “Wise men walk into funerals and not only mourn but use those moments to look at their own lives and be introspective to see where they currently stand with God and life. I’ve been to a lot of good parties, but it’s at the funerals I grew.”
He continues, “We see ourselves very clearly in times of agony. Whatever our inequity is, it will surface. It may be His very deep mercy to let these things be revealed so they may be changed, developed.”
It is better to go to a house of mourning than to go to a house of feasting, for death is the destiny of every man; and living should take this to heart (Ecclesiastes 7:2).
It is for that day that I am thankful. I am thankful that God gave me the opportunity to grow before He returns. I am such a mess, lost in this life, struggling to understand my purpose, His love, and how to serve Him in this world. I am thankful for a loving God, who protects his children who love Him.
A bruised reed he will not break, and a smoldering wick he will not snuff out. In faithfulness he will bring forth justice (Isaiah 42:3).
The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit (Psalms 34:18).
