Last week we found out that my sister in law was seriously ill and had been moved into palliative care. We are in shock and still coming to terms with the reality of this.
The 31 Day Challenge quickly fell to the wayside.
I have had no words for days.
We have been surrounded by people whose goodness is lighting the way.
And God’s grace has broken down doors and bombarded us.
These last few days I’ve learnt to sing the old songs.
Songs heavy in ancient truth.
The simple songs our ancestors chanted as they wandered the wastelands. Songs that echo through history and into eternity, flowing back and forth to us and over us.
The songs of all consuming mercy and love. Songs of declaration and bowing down.
I have chosen to sit here with these songs.
There is layer upon layer of questions and sadness, and pale glimpses of joy. I know God has cushioned us amongst people who are praying the words we can’t and whose ready hands are being splattered by our tears. We are being loved well.
There are those who understand this better than I. Those who trust that mourning will be turned to dancing, sorrow into joy. That there is peace unfathomable waiting.
I am leaning heavily into God’s goodness. I know He is faithful.
Grief is distorting the quiet moments into something graceless. I am restless. Daily I have to choose to let the old songs wash over me and seep in. To let their words go deep into the hairline cracks of grief and to wash away the shards of pain.
It is a long road ahead.
There is sadness to be felt, hands to be held and tears to fall.
But there are people willing to walk with us and to sing the old songs when we cannot.