I cry aloud to God,
aloud to God, that he may hear me.
In the day of my trouble I seek the Lord;
in the night my hand is stretched out without wearying;
my soul refuses to be comforted.
I think of God, and I moan;
I meditate, and my spirit faints.
You keep my eyelids from closing;
I am so troubled that I cannot speak.
I consider the days of old,
and remember the years of long ago.
I commune with my heart in the night;
I meditate and search my spirit:
“Will the Lord spurn forever,
and never again be favorable?
Has his steadfast love ceased forever?
Are his promises at an end for all time?
Has God forgotten to be gracious?
Has he in anger shut up his compassion?”
And I say, “It is my grief
that the right hand of the Most High has changed.”
when the news came,
I was sick.
The words were written carefully,
"he just couldn't fight anymoreBut all I could read was
and now he can finally rest.
Our little buddy's pain ended,
though ours is just beginning."
death, loss, heartbreak, grief.
And my prayer became:
Be close to them.
Then I remembered what the faithful of the Bible do --
So today I join the psalm writer and lament:
I cry aloud to you -- loud enough to rouse you to action.
My soul refuses to be comforted -- too soon for that.
Tears -- there are not enough.
Nausea comes in waves.
My worst fear -- the death of my son --
has come for ones whom I love.
I know, Lord, you have been faithful in the past,
but right now, I'm blinded with grief.
My eyes cannot see your grace, mercy, peace, hope.
Weep with us, Lord, as you did for your friend Lazarus.
Hold us in your embrace, while our shoulders shake with sobbing.
Press your hand to my chest and ease my heartache.
I lift my cry to you.
That is all I can do.
Today, may that be enough.