The mother of seven grows faint and gasps for breath; her sun has gone down while it is still day. Jeremiah 15:9
Many years ago, my (much) younger sister read this verse and followed a call on her heart to load her four small children into the family Odyssey and drive 8 hours from Ohio to Virginia.
She had listened to me for days as I called, reading to her from old letters and journals that were finally unpacked from boxes in the basement. Written in teenage hand and full of teenage angst, they confirmed brokenness and pain that I had tried to forget.
I became overwhelmed and unable to function.
She came to me.
She took over the day-to-day operation of my household, while her husband arranged a weekend away for me and Steve in Northern Virginia. Given the gift of time together, we began to sort through old letters and journals, embarking on the difficult journey of looking honestly at our past.
As we experienced this heart shattering, dear friends were also being shattered. There was breaking all around, as their little boy was born too soon. In silence.
Our hearts felt as devastated as the tornado-shattered communities pictured in the current news. We were grieving great losses, unable to see how life could ever go on as it was. And it didn’t. It never went back to the way it was.
And the man of all sorrows, he never forgot, what sorrow is carried, by the hearts that he bought.
This day is a bittersweet reminder of the now and the not yet, as Steve and I have experienced a taste of healing for our hearts in the now, over years, through much heartache and many tears, while our friends still wait for the day when they will be reunited with their son. It’s not yet. And we all ache.