His Grip

 Haddy’s fake fuss.  He wanted my phone.  I have survived immeasurable yearning for every mundane moment with him for more than 1,000 days.  The touch of his skin, the sound of his voice, the feel of his hand in mine, his disobedience, and all of the training required to bring a two year old to a five year old.  I wanted it all.  I am so jealous for him.  Still.  Time does not heal all wounds.  That is a lie.  

For more than 1,000 days, I have been in the furnace of affliction, staring my greatest fear in the face with the challenge in front of me to still live, to offer myself to my children and my husband who all have great need.  Truly, I love them more than my own life.



I’m here to tell you.   When you come to the end of yourself perpetually, there is a God who sees you.  His grip is unmistakably strong and gentle, loving and firm.  He knows suffering.  No amount of fiery anger, bitter weeping, or cursing the day that you were born will keep Him away, although the comfort is easier to receive when you let your heart see His suffering for you.  I haven’t any idea how I’ll keep doing this thing we now call our life, but I know who I’ll follow.  I love Him more than my own life.


To live is Christ, to die is gain.  

Philippians 1:21

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