Boomerang

I haven't written in almost two weeks. My silence is reflective of time spent digging deep--in my heart, as I reflect on all that has happened; and in plunging into the balm of comfort that God sends me each day in his living, speaking Word, the Bible.

My hands can't keep up with all the page flipping, note taking, and scribbling the musings of my heart on paper. I have dug deep into the very personal journeys of those who have walked the same valley of the shadow of death. In their blogs and books, these fellow travelers share how they are standing stronger in their weakness and loss than they did before their sacred journeys. Angie Smith. Nancy Guthrie. Shauna Niequist. The countless mothers of Trisomy babies who pour out their stories on their many blogs. Job. They inspire me. I am getting to know other moms in the area whose children also carried a piece of their hearts to heaven--sharing hearts over Kleenex, over tea at the coffee house, and over the tear-drenched pages of the book of Job. I am not alone.

And yet, when I stumble into moments when I feel the emptiness of the place that David carved in my heart and took with him, I am learning to cry out to the One who was "a man of sorrows...familiar with suffering" (Isaiah 53:3) and whose own suffering left Him "overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death" (Matt. 26:38). This same Jesus saw the loss that his friends experienced when their loved one died, and was "deeply moved in spirit and troubled...and wept." (John 11:33,35). In other words, the Maker of ears and crying mouths sees mine, and from a place of empathy, hurts with me. You see, Jesus knew that He was about to raise his friends' loved one from the dead...and yet He wept because of how death cut his friends to the core. He saw their tears and broken hearts and wept because He loved them. He could have said, "Don't cry, in just a moment you are going to see your brother walking out of the tomb where he's buried." But in that moment, their tears caused Him to weep with compassion...before they saw the rest of the story.

And do you know what? He is giving me joy. In between the tears and grief, He is healing my broken heart. I have to say that most winters, I feel somewhat depressed from the endless gray skies, snow, and lack of sunshine. How can it be that this year, the saddest of all, I have felt the most joy? Because the promises of healing broken hearts that God gives is real. Quite ironic, huh?

There are low spots, like in Walmart when a preemie outfit sits untouched on the end of a clearance rack in the men's department that would have fit my little David on the day he was born. But so far, I haven't found a spot so low that God can't outdo with his comfort and joy. It's like a boomerang. I throw out my tears and sorrow, and for a moment there is silence. And then, out of somewhere my eyes cannot see, overflowing joy and the peace that passes all understanding come flying in, hitting me over the head and filling my heart. Amazing! And so I "fix (my) eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal." (2 Cor. 4:18).