“Save me, O God; for the waters are come in unto my soul.”
—Psalm 69:1 KJV
One afternoon, I battled the need to weep and wail. In other words, a royal fit. I had awoke that morning, feeling out of sorts and unable to concentrate.
I wandered the rooms of my home, feeling as though at any moment my skin would crawl off of me. My mind did an unusual thing that continued sporadically for months. It skipped like blackouts in between thoughts. I prayed for God to hold me together, for I surely would fall to pieces.
Then it happened. I fell to the floor, screaming, screaming, screaming. I begged God to numb my pain, a pain that felt physical. I kicked and flailed about on the carpet like a spoiled child until exhausted.
I got up.
Washed my face.
Brushed my disheveled hair.
I could do anything with God at my side.
Still, a shadow hovered within my soul, and my grief intensified over the months. Soon I understood another problem. I couldn’t feel my Lord’s love as I once had.
That frightened me. I saw God’s love in action, though, be it in small ways. I trusted that He was listening.
Lord, do You hear me above my cries? Can we still have a relationship when all I do is mourn and cry? Help me, oh, Lord. In Jesus’s name, I beg. Amen.