The Journey of Grief

Our journey is often marked by seasons of grief.

 I noticed very subtly in those seasons that they are remarkably seasoned with grace. 

In my deepest aching and my deepest longing, and in the midst of unbearable heartache,

there is a hand that reaches out so gently to me. 

I've not always taken the hand stretched out so mercifully,

but often times I have. 

It's in the times of my own stubbornness or independence that I don't take hold of the hand of rescue, 

and yet He takes a head first dive into the darkness with me. 

It's He, who reaches to the depths to rescue. 

I've not an answer for your questions, I've not a prescription for the pain. 

I'm also in a season where searching and waiting is all I've seen. 

And maybe the answer we are looking for is at the bottom of all the sorrow. 

That in the surrender we will one day find freedom. 

That in the daring act of no longer swimming we will find some strength that's ours to borrow. 

Dare I ask you to wait with me. 

To take up the mantle of patience and the art of letting go. 

And maybe at the end of this long, hard road, we will find the table has been set and longing swallowed.