Yesterday the rains came. I walked up the street and sat in the arms of a weeping willow. There I found a sacred place to shed my own tears in the company of an arbor and a sky.
My heart was heavy. Three young girls in one day made up the news. Two local and one National: all dead before they had a chance to live. How many more are trapped in a living hell wishing for death?
Usually, the first words on my lips are Where are you, Lord? and Why?
Instead of hoarding them, I gave God the big questions and allowed myself to be held in a timbered embrace. I accepted His Holy Tears in the drops and the leaves that cascaded to the ground. I made the choice to trust that He does see and is at work even when my vision is overcast.
In the end, the sun came to break through nature’s grieving heart. I felt better. I gave the girls and their unknown suffering back to Him.
I walked home trusting in the day when it will be Jesus that breaks through the clouds in Holy Vengeance. He will right all of the wrongs that the small endure at the hands of evil.
Until then, I will believe that even behind the clouds, hope shines. And if I wait, I will see it too.
“To thee I tell each rising grief, for thou alone can heal. Thy word can bring a sweet relief to every pain I feel.”