Elizabeth Elliot, was a missionary widow, and she wrote this in a newsletter to a new widow. This is how it feels.....it is like she read my heart and mind You are alone now. You go to bed alone, you are having to learn to say “I” instead of “we,” you find yourself catching your breath as you turn to say something to the man who isn’t there, you put off a decision until he gets home to help you make it, and then you know, with a pang, that you’ll have to make it by yourself. The children come with needs, needs that Daddy could meet, but Daddy won’t be there—today or tomorrow, or ever again, so there you are. You open a drawer, and you find a book his hands have handled, you come across his handwriting (so very personal a sign of the man), you see his shoes with the shape of his feet which you know so well, and the sting of the arrow in your heart is not missed by Him who loves us as no one else ever has. He puts those tears into His bottle, for He gave you the love that brings those tears and He made you so you could cry, and you cast it all on the Rock that never moves. You find everything else shaken, tottering, the mountains moved into the midst of the sea, the earth “roar- ing,” the things that seemed changeless all changed now, except for the Rock. He seems sometimes a very absent help in time of trouble, but He’s there. Be still, know that He’s still God, wait for Him. I know how your memory goes over every inch of his body, for you loved every inch of it, and you remember just how it felt and the smell of him and the sound of his breathing and his voice and the taste of him, and each day you find it a little bit harder to remember just exactly how it was and you know you have forgotten some of it, and this, too, is pain. You don’t want anybody telling you that “time heals all things,” for you don’t in the least want to forget, not for a second.
Posted on: Mon, 06 Oct 2014 02:08:14 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015