In His Presence

   "For someday the people will follow Me. I, the Lord, will roar like a lion. And when I roar, my people will return trembling from the west." Hosea 11:10

  During another season of therapy, my therapist had learned how to do Traumatic Incident Reduction Therapy. It's a structured revisiting of traumatic events that allows a person to revisit the event in a safe and controlled manner. It's guided by questions that allow the exploration of sights, sounds, smells, and feelings. 

  It's not easy. 

  But, here's the thing, my therapist was a believer. She included questions that allowed me to see the hand of God, His presence, in the midst of remembering the awful. 

  And God was good. He showed me where He was every single time we utilized this therapy technique. Now I can remember these events, hard and as terrible as they were, and I find comfort.

  That's not to say I don't feel the pain of what happened but it no longer overwhelms my senses. The traumatic event has been disarmed. Kind of like removing the firing pin from a gun's trigger mechanism. 

  I've started doing this on my own, well, not really on my own. Instead of writing a letter to my mom, I've started writing a personal letter to God. That's what I mean when I say it's not on my own. The letter is all about what happened in the days before, during, and after my step-Dad's passing. 

  The first step involves immersing myself in the details of events, trying to get it all down in some sort of sequence. It's going to take some time because a lot happened. And I can only handle so much at a stretch.

  I am already aware of the many precious moments when the Lord showed up in astounding ways, in answered prayers, in the strength and calm of my being during the chaos. 

  He showed up in a church's post card advertisement with a scripture verse. It was laying on the floor, just another piece of garbage that didn't make into the bin. Until I picked it up, deeply grateful for such a gift. It's still in my purse, a reminder that He is with me in everything.

  I find myself wondering how and why the post card ended up on the floor of the hospital lobby. Was it given to someone who simply dropped it, uninterested in what was being offered? Or was it part of a clumsily packaged pile of cards and it fell out, unnoticed? Was it dropped intentionally by the person seeking to expand God's kingdom?

  I wish the post card could talk.

  I think my next task is to reach out to the church and share what it meant to me. That among the hundreds of their printed post cards, God used one, cast off and forgotten, to touch someone's heart and encourage them in a time of trial.

  God is a God of small things, too. 

  Lord, help me see You in the small, the moments, the seconds You make Your presence known. Help me see the bigger picture in Jesus Name I pray. AMEN!