(By Rachel Joyce)
The pain recedes, not like a wave
Pulling back from the shore, not
Like the sand slipping through
An hourglass, but like winter
Grudgingly giving way to spring,
Agonizing in its slowness,
Tantalizingly, giving one good day,
Then slapping you in the face
With biting wind and icy flakes
Chilling your hands, numbing
Your soul as you fight off the fear
That it will never end.
Always winter and never Christmas,
All this pain with no hint of glory.
And the heart grows weary of hoping.
And sometimes faith fades to a shadow
As you struggle to find a footing
When yet again, the sadness knocks
Your feet out from under you, and
The unbearable weight of living suffocates
This smoldering flax, almost breaks
This bruised reed, and the sorrow
Cuts so deeply that words fail
To express reality born.
But in the silence of your grief
The still, small voice breaks through,
“You are not alone; I, who fully drank
Sufferings’ appalling cup for you,
Am here with you. You are gently
Cradled in My almighty arms. My love
Is yours, My strength is yours, my grace
Fills every need. So lean into Me.
Sadness cannot swallow you whole
Because you are Mine; hold tight to Me;
Let My peace, My joy, My love sustain You
Until your suffering is eclipsed by glory.