Approach

     "Am I a God who is only close at hand?" says the Lord. "No, I am far away at the same time. Can anyone hide from me in a secret place? Am I not everywhere in all the heavens and earth?" says the Lord. Jeremiah 23:23-24

  There is great comfort in these words today. The God of mountains is the God of pebbles and stones. He is the God of new life and life passing. He is the God of the wind and tides, of storms and the calm before such storms. He is the God of the calm. 

  He is the God of everywhere and everything, including each letter I type, each thought that rises to the surface, each moment I share with Him.

 

  He is the God that dwells in the nothing moments between heartbeats. 

  I've been thinking about this a lot. I feel there is something significant about it but I haven't quite grasped what it might be. 

  Lord? What are You trying to show me?

  In the meantime, I saw my mom on the weekend. It was a short visit. Allan's scent still lingers even after all this time. It was a grim reminder of everything that had happened.

  We stayed just long enough to pick up my friend's scissors and have a brief chat. I didn't say much all the same. She, mom, did most of the talking. I left a Mother's Day card for her that simply contained a blessing, none of the mushy crap. Mushy is decidedly dishonest at this point in time.

  My friend had picked it out because the last thing I wanted to do was browse through cards celebrating the lovely relationships between daughters and oh, so wonderful, mothers. Lord, please, don't let me be bitter.

  My mom wished I would talk to her about why I had left so angrily the day Allan passed. She wished I would share my feelings with her.

  As I left, I told her I wasn't prepared to talk because I didn't trust myself to not be unkind and said I would write a letter.

  So I can. And will. I am grateful to have taken the time to write out the sequence of events around Allan's passing not long after he went home to Jesus. That way she cannot twist what I say or accuse me of "mis-remembering." I can also leave my feelings out of it because it is unwise to put them in. 

  It will probably take several drafts before I end up with what I want but that's okay. God is the God of the in-between spaces. 

  So, Lord, help me find the best approach. Be with me as I re-visit the pain of shock and grief.

  In Jesus' name I pray. AMEN!