It was so deep, I nearly vomitted. The pain. Grief. Stacked in the layers of my gut. The depths to which only The Father, Son and Holy Spirit have searched me and know.
It’s not often I ask for prayer from my audience. I usually peruse my Twitter feed in search of someone to pray for and/ or bless. Particularly, widows or people who have lost someone precious. It’s part of my ministry. And honestly, the least I can do with my reach.
This morning, I awakened to the remnants of a very challenging day. A day filled with misunderstanding, offense, brokenness and confusion. Words that seared like a hot iron on the soft layers of my already tender heart. It was a crushing day.
As I type those words I can hear my committee gather. Shuffling to their worn, musty seats they rally to remind me in a chorus of accusation, of how ‘dramatic’ or ‘ridiculous’ and ‘weak’ it is to have a tender heart. The Chairwoman of this ever-present gang of self defeating ghouls is neatly put together. A heart of ice. In need of no one and nothing. Especially, consolation.
She rules with an iron fist and keeps the rest of the committee in check with reels of the past failures,, criticism, rejection and abandonment. Childhood wounds encased in adulthood scars. She’s a gangster. An imposter. A mean task master. And quite honestly, a shrewd b*tch. But as with all protectors of our slavish personal ethos, she has a purpose. To keep it all together. Come hell or high water.
The problem with hell is that even when we make our bed there, David reminds us our Father is there with us. The problem with high water is even when the enemy comes in like a flood, our Father promises to raise the banner of his love over us. This is all problematic for a kingdom quite literally, hell bent.
I can quote scriptures till Jesus returns, but I wasn’t prepared for the way in which His presence would reveal Himself to me today in one wonderfully timed moment. A God kiss.
I woke up with my heart aching and dried tears encrusted in the corners of my eyes. I prayed with what little hope I had left that God even cared. That Jesus would remotely tend to his tattered betrothed. But I prayed anyway.
What came next can only be described as one of the most mystically poetic moments of my faith journey. There have been plenty intimate moments with my Lord to be sure, but not like this.
This was meant for a deeper layer. A deeper cleansing and knowing of each other. The sinew and tendons of continuous hope deferred, moral failures and grief, laid bare. Fully exposed. Only I had no way of knowing. Until my breath left my lungs, my stomach released a wail only those who have lost, can feel.
I awakened to a message from a media colleague. A sister in Christ. No, really. As in, we’ve had a moment in the past when offense took hold between us and we reconciled due to her humility and my brutal honesty. All Christ. No doubt about it. I knew we loved each other as such, but what I couldn’t have anticipated was how my sweet Savior would reveal his pity and compassion for me through her today.
Seeing my petition for prayer, she messaged me and asked if she could send me a meal or a massage or anything.
A smile formed when I replied in a bit of awe and disbelief she would offer such a thing. She had no way of knowing just how desperate that public plea for prayer was. No way of knowing the depths. And to be honest, neither did I.
Not until she replied with “sometimes we just need a little consolation“.
CONSOLATION. “The comfort received by a person after a loss or disappointment”.. ” A person or thing providing comfort to a person who has suffered”
Websters
That was it. The dam burst and I couldn’t breathe. I cried tears I haven’t cried in years.
I’m crying now.
I KNEW that word was directly from Him. My comforter. And I was reminded, His kindness leads us to repentance. We tend to think of repentance with regard to lust or the other human weighted and myopically focused sins that leave the rotting roots of grief, sadness, fear and anger beneath the ashes of a molten forest of a hurried life lived running from the promise of death.
The disappointment of yesterday was a mere scratch on the surface. And the Lord, knew it. It tilled the ground of my soul’s soil that hides layers of grief-filled secrets and desires. The desire to be seen, known, loved and understood and accepted. As it is with most humans, if we’re honest.
I’ve never quite shaken the grave dust of my young husband. I didn’t just bury him at 28. I buried normalcy, vacations, hopes, forgiveness, compassion, protection, companionship, the honor of being a man’s wife and knowing. I left it all in a bronze, silk-lined casket, 6 feet and one bourbon pour in the ground. My Chairwoman was elected, took her place and has since done a respectable yet, anemic job of keeping me together with little or real need from others.
Few requests or shared desires. A lady in waiting, 25 years have tempted me to expect nothing. Not from God and definitely not from man. It’s not as terrible as it seems. Until that is, the sweet savor of Heaven himself invades your soul, scatters your enemies with one single kind gesture to console your deepest tear-filled oceans. He stormed the earth for me today. Moved my own mountains of self preservation and kissed my forehead.
I battled with receiving such a kind and simple gesture because I can ‘afford’ my own meal or massage, but that wasn’t the point. So, I battled with uncomfort and pride for ten seconds and simply said, whatever you like to do would be so welcomed.
Her reply ‘ “Jesus often does this to me, one body, many parts- Take it as an answer- He loves you!..”
As many times as we use the word love, her simple act of consolation in a time I did not expose my deluge of despair, was evidence of the Holy Spirit unseen, yet hoped for. He worked through her to reach me in a way very few people have in my life. It was pressed down and running over. It was so personal and kind. Pure.
I’ve often marveled at women who have men in their lives who make this a rule of life for their marriages to celebrate her with personalized moments, consolation, joy, pure, kind, unconditional love – it has eluded me. But there is something entirely magical, nuclear and eternal in knowing the Creator of all not only heard me, but saw me and wanted to console me in such a personalized way.
To my dear sister, I’ve kept you anonymous as promised and ask Father to fill your cup beyond measure. You blessed my weary soul. Thank you. I look forward to my massage.
So many hurting people. Let’s let her example dwell in us, richly. They will know us by our love for one another. Let’s let our love be more than recitation of Scripture. Let’s BE love. Let’s offer His consolation. You have no idea what level eternity you serve with such hospitable, gracious. attentiveness.
xo.