Cathy has an excellent post up this week. I am so glad I know this lovely lady; she has a co-worker who is good friends with one of my good friends, and we met at a conference this summer. I lurk at her site fairly frequently, and am often inspired by her creativity and deeply thoughtful insights.
The post is about grief, and allowing ourselves time and space to grieve properly. It reminded me of saying Kaddish. It's hard to believe that wasn't even a year ago...
It's been quite a year.
I had occasion last week to look back on my first post of the year. Instead of making resolutions I knew I would break, I chose three things I wanted to see God do in my life over the course of this year - essentially: to refine my character, to help me recognize His voice more clearly, and to teach me to trust Him.
He's most definitely said "yes"... and there's still a whole month of the year left. :)
I am oddly reminded of something a good friend of mine said once (wow, also this year - were there like five years in the space of one this year?!): "It's like, I think, "wow, life hurts. Better get a helmet." and God responds by putting His hand on my shoulder, looking me in the eyes and saying, "No, no helmet. Trust Me." And then hits me in the head with a bat..."
Lol. Yep, it's been quite a year. But it's been so, so good. In a lot of ways, I've done a lot of mourning this year... but I am also learning to dance. And that is a good thing. Sooner or later I really will shed all this sackcloth. But I think I'm okay with still wearing it. At least for awhile. Because there's a promise that those who mourn may hope in:
The Spirit of the Sovereign LORD is on me, because the LORD has anointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners, to proclaim the year of the LORD's favor, and the day of vengeance of our God, to comfort all who mourn, and provide for those who grieve in Zion— to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair. They will be called oaks of righteousness, a planting of the LORD for the display of his splendor. They will rebuild the ancient ruins and restore the places long devastated; they will renew the ruined cities that have been devastated for generations.
Thank You, Jesus, for what You've done and are doing in me this year. I know that though You've purpose in all of it for me, it is also part of a bigger story, and that my story will show forth Your glory in ways I can hardly imagine from my limited perspective here. Thank You for the privilege of becoming a Repairer of Broken Walls. I am honored to have a role to play in Your Kingdom.