I remember when Doug and I broke up, and I would pour my heart out on paper. Everything I felt or thought was written, cried, onto the paper. Then I wrote everyday; now I write on a semi-regular basis. I try to make sense of my feelings, of my mind, and attempt to discern the direction of God in my life.
Tonight I found out that my Grandpa Reid has died. He died three hours ago. I found out less than an hour ago.
Casey was with him. My Auntie Mel had just gone out for a drink of water when the room filled with angels. She saw them all around. She ran out to get my aunt, and when she came back a few moments later, the angels, and Grandpa, were gone.
And so I have filled the first pages of my journal with the aching pain of loss. I've written down my memories, and my frusteration that growing up has to involve such pain. What with Grandma dying a few years ago, and Grandpa now...I feel like my childhood is dying away. Only fragments are left.
In my cold, lonely apartment I find little comfort. God is here, and I can feel him - but he isn't here to take away the pain, he's here to help me deal with it.
I have chronicled my most painful losses, along with my happiest times, in journals. They are where I aknowledge and feel my deepest emotions. When I do that, I feel closest to God. He knows the depths of my heart. Every word that I write reminds me of how much I need him.
"The Lord is my strength and my shield; my heart trusts in Him, and I am helped." Psalm 28:7
posted by Lisa @ 11:34 PM
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