When we’re
sad or depressed, we like it when the weather agrees. Rain and rustic skies assist the spirit
within to feel at home.
Mary’s husband died in a workplace
accident. But there was no escape into
her grief with her young children around.
She’d wait until their eyes gave way to dreams, then slowly let the pain
out — tears long borne on a weary, torn heart.
Some sprinkling solace at last.
God becomes real in these moments.
Sadness is nothing to feel sad
about when we know there are others out there, too, beckoning gloomy days.
Tears must come in such sadness;
that or anger for being cheated of cherished moments alone with the Spirit of
our hearts.
We’re warned. Reject the need to spill our sullenness and
soon there’s anger — the cheapening of emotion; damage abounding.
Letting
the pain out,
We are
assured in this,
Is putting
paid to doubt,
That our souls would remain amiss.
Letting
the pain out,
How could
we otherwise contend?
So let the
pain out,
In order for God to mend.
Find a safe place and let the pain
out. Trust authenticity. It’s all we have. It’s all we need.
© 2012 S. J. Wickham.
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