I am sad. Grieving anew. Grieving still.
God met me in my sorrow tonight through one of His own, offering unsolicited assurance in the midst of tear-stained anguish.
It was a small but ๐ฆ๐จ๐ง๐ฎ๐ฆ๐๐ง๐ญ๐๐ฅ display of tangible, palpable grace, and, while unexpected, it was lavish in its timing, tenderness, and tailor-made specificity.
It has since occurred to me that we, who have been in desperate need of grace, dispense it to others in great, big helpings: A little for me, ๐ญ๐ก๐ ๐ซ๐๐ฌ๐ญ for you.
๐๐๐ฌ๐ญ. For you.
๐๐๐ฌ๐ญ. For me.
Sometimes that ๐๐ the grace.
In the giving and receiving of grace that suffices when our dreams lie tattered at our feet, perhaps itโs the very impermanence of sorrow itself (๐ข๐ง ๐ฅ๐ข๐ ๐ก๐ญ ๐จ๐ ๐๐ญ๐๐ซ๐ง๐ข๐ญ๐ฒ) that grants our weary hearts the ๐ซ๐๐ฌ๐ญ that quiets our cries and ushers us to sleep.
As the night closes in and all goes quiet in this home that is ๐ง๐จ๐ญ my home, I rest in the promise that more awaits, that suffering ceases, that death is not the end.
Resurrection Day approaches, beloved, and God has set eternity in our hearts.
Goodnight, dear ones. I pray you ๐ซ๐๐ฌ๐ญ ๐ฐ๐๐ฅ๐ฅ. May Godโs grace tuck you in and keep you, and faithfully greet you at dawn with His every morning mercies.
โThere remaineth therefore a rest to the people of God.โ
~ ๐๐๐๐ซ๐๐ฐ๐ฌ ๐:๐