Rich experience, dredging up
Depths of emotion that we
Cannot experience in any other
Way.
We absorb God's comfort
Profoundly,
Personally.
But oh the pain.
The pain.
For a believer, death is a strangely
Rich experience, dredging up Depths of emotion that we Cannot experience in any other Way. We absorb God's comfort Profoundly, Personally. But oh the pain. The pain.
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The man was acting strangely.
He seemed to be talking to Himself as he shopped at the Grocery store. Later, as I waited in line, he Pushed his cart up behind me and Asked, "How are you today?" "I'm good. How about you?" I was surprised when he began to Sob. "My wife died two years ago, and I miss her so much." I tried to console him as I placed my Groceries onto the conveyor belt. He continued to lament, interspersing His conversation with off color words. The cashier averted her eyes, not Knowing what to make of us. I lagged behind so I could talk to the Gentleman as we left the store. The widower had been married 38 Years and recently moved to the Area to be near his kids. "I just can't get over losing her." I listened and shared bits of my Own story of loss. I gave him one of my tracts, and as I left I told him I would pray for him. I couldn't relate to the man's Vocabulary or to his unusual Mannerisms. But I could identify with his Broken heart. I could share his grief. His wife died just weeks ago.
"What is hardest for you right Now?" I asked him. He choked up. "In bed at night when she's Not here." I agreed with him. Being alone is hard during the Daytime. But it's hardest in the Darkness of night.
I just learned the tragic news that
See Yan lost his only child. Ben was climbing a rock wall in a Gym when he went limp and was Gone. He was thirty years old. See Yan is my nephew. And since his wife died a Number of years ago, he is Now sadly, intensely alone. I was searching for a card to Send him when I noticed a Packet my friend had recently Given me. Shuffling through the cards I found it, The perfect one. On the front is a desert scene with This verse printed out: "I will make a way in the wilderness and Rivers in the desert." As my nephew gropes his way through This barren season of his life, I pray that He will find that God has already made a Way for him, that when he is desperately Thirsty, God will provide a stream. I pray that in See Yan's sorrow our Compassionate Father will be his oasis, a Soothing balm for his broken heart. It was 1968, and the college student
Was eating his breakfast when he Was called to the Dean's office for An urgent phone call. His heart was pounding as a voice On the other end of the line told Him, "We just received news that Your mother and father have been Killed by the communists." They had been missionaries in Vietnam. As I read the account of the young Man, who later became a medical Missionary himself, I could feel his Anguish. He cried out to God, "Why?" God had spared his parents' lives Before. Why not this time? It didn't make sense. But as he wept on his knees in his Dorm room, God spoke to him. "David, do you trust Me?" And once again, "David, do you trust Me?" It's true for us as well. In the agonizing circumstances of Our lives, the only response we may Hear from God is simply a question. "Do you trust Me?" (From the book, The Hand On My Scalpel, by David C. Thompson, MD) In church this morning,
Behind our masks, Becky and I gave each other a Big genuine hug. Words weren't necessary. Tomorrow is the first anniversary of Mark's death, and today is the sixth for Jack, Mark's dad. I gave her a card. "Open it tomorrow," I said. In the note I told her that a lot of the "Firsts" were behind her now, and The second time around doesn't Seem to be quite as hard. But I was truthful. "You will still have hard days, Becky, I do." After six years I still have hard days. But I closed with the words, "I'm thinking of you, praying for you and Loving you on this poignant day," Dorothy I was deeply touched as the woman
Shared her story. Her husband and children had been Killed in a car accident, and she was Left alone. "Why don't you give up on your Faith?" she was asked. "How can you still believe in God?" The bereaved mom and widow responded From her shattered, battered heart. "Who would I cling to? Where would I find comfort? What hope would I have of seeing them Again?" For believers, tragedy doesn't drive us Away from God, but toward Him. I received a tender message from my
Young friend in Saskatchewan, so Many miles away, but near in my Thoughts. She was having a weepy day. Two years earlier her husband was Nearing the end of his life and had Left their farm house for the Last time. In her words: "So much sadness is flooding my Mind... I so miss the affirming words, The comforting hugs, The look of special love." She was trying to adjust to the hard Realities of bereavement. When a loved one is never again coming Home, absence doesn't make the Heart grow fonder, just more broken. |
Dorothy Kalb Hsu Seitzinger
Writing poetry has helped me process and express my sorrows and joys, my concerns and blessings. "Life is hard, but God is good!" Archives
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