inkhorn

How can I pray while my heart cries, “You killed my son”? What can I say? How look for comfort from the One Who willed it done? Omnipotent, He could have stopped it if He would; my son... my son... numb with grief, my soul is one vast “why?” his life was all too brief; he was so young to die. Where were You, Lord? Where were You? Gently He replied, “Just where I was dearly, dearly loved, when Mine was crucified.” -           Ruth Bell Graham

Aches and pains, Fears and cares; Some real, Some hidden, Most, not even there. Burdened by this life; I need some respite. I remember him; With a little envy perhaps. He’s cut loose, He’s free! Why him And not me? Understanding, I don’t claim; Nor any clarity. Where to, from here, Lord? I’m tired, help me. -           R. D. P.

How should I react to hurting statements? Should I just accept them as another person’s perspective and let it go? What gives me the right to decide that my understanding of a particular circumstance is the right one and the other is flawed? Does that, in actual fact, mean that the other person has the right understanding and me, the jaundiced? I don’t know. As much as negative comments hurt, help me Lord to remember – it’s not about me.