The aftertaste of sorrow lingers. Still existent but no longer all consumed by its grip I manage to gasp for breath. Moments at a time, life begins its return. Coffee with a friend, here. Date with my husband, there. An unforced smile manages to break through on occasion. The thickness of grief prevented it before. But Light has broken and darkness is not so black as it was. Deep gashes and slashes in the soul begin to merge together again. Because this place is not foreign to me, I have confidence that time will heal. First one step, then another, each stronger than the one before. Though a sense of “why” may never be made, purpose will be found. He promises it. I trust. It’s faint, but there. This pain will be a gift.
Infertility, loss, suicide, depression, betrayal, death, sickness; a few of life’s instigators of pain and sorrow in my life that have acquainted me with the reoccurring scene described above. Some have closure, many are left open-ended, but one common factor binds them all together. Each was a gift.
Limited not as a gift for me to hide and hoard for myself, but one that replenishes often and overflows into the hearts and souls of those around me.
2 Corinthians 1: 3-5
Brokenness is a pathway to a depth in God’s character, a place of rest in God’s soul, that otherwise remains unexposed.
When He decides to poor out His comfort, it gushes, overflows and is meant to be shared. The gift is to be passed on.
I know my pain, sorrow, all my wounds are of use to Him for now I have the ability to bring others in a place of grief to a part of God’s being that may otherwise remain unfamiliar.
Pain isn’t the enemy. It’s a gift of epic proportions when handed to the Father.