Tiny tears in a huge well -

Tonight I was supposed to post my Mum's loverly birthday post that I've been working on all evening. It obviously didn't happen.

The words wouldn't come. The thoughts would not flow. The endearments of my heart for my Mama didn't sound right when they came from my heart to the keyboard. It all sounded wrong.

Life wasn't great. I was a little crabby and grumpy. Taking painkiller didn't help my emotions.

Cranberries.

I was going to do these great posts on Mom and one for Dad for Father's Day. And then I decided, just like on Mother's Day...that I didn't like Father's Day being on a Sunday. Because the Lord's Day shouldn't be any day but the Lord's. And now I have a problem, because my birthday is next Sunday.

Sigh. See how my mind is working tonight? Yes, I know. I don't like it either.

The thing is ... my heart is heavy. For many reasons. That I can't talk about. And it hurts. And I hurt. And my soul is castdown within me. And that's why I can't blog about happy things.

Because some nights aren't for feeling happy.

Some nights are for standing in your bathroom for 15 minutes staring at yourself in the mirror and watching little tears make their little ways in little wet tracks down your cheeks, off your chin, into your hair, and onto your shirt. And not even bothering to wipe them away.

Some nights are for being as quiet as you possibly can just so you can feel like you aren't doing anything, and being anyone other than just you. And knowing that God loves you like that.

Some nights are for not even trying to formulate thoughts into prayer, and instead just thinking it - "Dearest Savior, leave me not...do not forsake me...hide me in the cleft of the rock, cover me there with Your hand, comfort me, be with me, forgive me, love me...be glorified in me....Who am I that God should be mindful of me?".

Some nights are for letting yourself cry all those seemingly tiny-sized tears of pain into the huge and endless well of God's almighty hands that cup underneath you to catch every single one ... and turn them into praise through the Holy Spirit for the mighty and wondrous works of a holy God..."Who heals all your diseases... who crowns you with lovingkindness".

The pain remains. The tears remain. The hurt still stays. I remain wounded and crushed.

The attitude changes.

"Bless the Lord, O my soul, and all that is within me, praise His most holy name."

"I shall praise Him yet, the help of my countenance and my God."

"For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face, and then we shall know as we also have been known."

The peace and comfort come back. The tears seem bigger, now, strangely, and yet, so much better to have fallen, now that I know why I was crying.

Why I wept for the sins of man. Why I grieved over pride and strife. Why I hurt for long and wretched years. Why I need Him all the time. Why I feel alone in a room full of wonderful people.

How I came to love Him so much more since I became broken.

"Lo, Th'incarnate God ascended,
Pleads the merit of His blood;
Venture on Him, venture wholly
Let no other trust intrude;

None but Jesus, none but Jesus,
can do helpless sinners good!
None but Jesus, none but Jesus,
can do helpless sinners good!"
("Come, Ye Sinners, Poor and Needy")

A wonderful Savior is Jesus, my Lord!
A teary and thankful girl am I,
~ Jean Marie

Happy Lord's Day to the Father of all Fathers...the King of Kings...the Lamb exalted, the Spirit all holy and wise, the God most high and righteous ... to Him be glory and honor and praise for ever and ever. Amen.