Friday, September 20, 2013
Psalm 142:2~I Poured Out My Complaint
King David wrote this while hiding in the cave:
"I poured out my complaint before him; I shewed before him my trouble." KJV
Ah, David, he does know how to speak honestly, doesn't he? This must be why I love his words. This verse speaks of my heart, for I'm going into the darker season of grief and loss.
Before my son's death, I've always loved fall. It might be because I was born smelling the harvest. Or maybe because it's the beginning of cooler weather after summer heat. No matter the reason, fall is now bittersweet. Joshua's birthday comes with autumn and that is a worst time for missing my son.
God hears my complaint of how I dread the tears of missing Joshua. I fight the sad, dark cloud that wants to gulp me whole. Yes, it's been nine years, but I can't stop missing my son. Father God knows this, and He hears my complaint.
Recently, the Lord brought me a gift of the human kind.
Even though my friend, Reda, and I had kept in contact, we hadn't seen each other in 28 years. Her Micah and my Joshua played together as little boys. We now live closer since we both moved to the Northwest, and she just so happened to be driving toward my home when I heard from her. "Would you like a visit?" she asked.
"Yes," I cried, "yes!"
As Reda got out of her car, we hurried to greet each other. What happened next surprised me: I sobbed.
Huge blubbering sobs like ocean waves erupted from me as we embraced. Reda cried her soft gentle tears with me. I had no idea how much I needed to share my sorrow of loss with her. She bore my pain. Sisters in Christ, soul friends, our years of separation leaked in a rush of tears. Sad tears. Joyful tears of reunion.
We visited for five hours and thirty minutes. I fed her glasses and glasses of green mango iced tea. She fed me her faith in Christ. Her struggles of life. I shared, also. God heard my complaint and blessed me with the strength of a faithful follower.
How many times have I wrote in this Love Truth blog, that God has blessed me with human comfort? Many, many times, dear readers. God does bless. Father God does hear, but we must ask. Knock, knock, knock, on His door and He will open and extend His hand of help.
Reda is proof once again: God has not forgotten my sorrow.
Father God, thank You for the surprise visit of my dear friend. You are the Father of gifts. You are the Lord of beautiful. In Jesus' holy name, I praise You. Amen.
Until next time . . . reach out your hand for Lord God.