Comfort

That word, comfort.


 What we are to give and what we ask the Lord to give us, but in real life I don't know how to give comfort.


I know how to hand out a verse. I know how to whip up a batch of muffins and deliver them hot from the oven.  I know how to do, but I don't know how to speak. I'm proficient at busying myself with making coffee and arranging cookies but I don't know to approach a grieving family member.






He is holding my hand tight and telling me how he found out his wife died. The blow by blow account is like a sledge hammer chopping my heart into pieces. I don't speak. Instead I squeeze the hand tighter.




Tears are running down the face of the man who tells me he wants to run away from this place. The place where death came and swiftly took his wife before he was ready to say goodbye. He tells me how it all happened. The broken pieces of my heart are chopped into slivers.




People around me are grieving. I go from person to person. Unsure of what to do or say I simply sit . Sometimes I ramble, reflecting on the memories.


 I can't stand silence.


I'm grateful when they speak to me and fill the stillness. Instinctively I want to cover my ears and shut out the harsh painful words, but still I'm grateful that they speak and I can remain in the safety of silence.




What to do. What to say. What not to say. I want answers and wisdom what to do.


 I hold tight a hand and stare into eyes that are glazed over with tears.

"Jesus wept"

Christ did not bravely gulp back tears. He do not rush in and do something. Instead he wept his own loss and the loss of those close to him. He was there in the midst of the grief acknowledging the pain by shedding His own tears.


And this is comfort. Not saying a word, but not letting go of a hand that is used to holding someone else's.


Comfort is not the band aid of quickly said cliché words.


No, comfort is going into the chaos of grief and feeling the searing pain of loss along with the bereaved person.


Comfort is weeping with those who are weeping.

Five Men

Five excited young men.

 Full of passion to make Christ known to the lost.

 Filled with a conviction to carry out God's command.

All of them were happily married men.

Four were fathers of young children.
 

They had a goal.

 

To evangelize a South American tribe who thought that the only way to resolve conflict
 was with blood at the end of a spear.

Armed with handfuls of words in a language that few in the modern world knew.

They went in a yellow plane.

 

With thrill in their voices, they excitedly told their wives that they hoped their next radio report would bring news of friendship made.

 

59 years ago today there was a deathly silence.

 A radio call that never came.

 

5 widows.

Fatherless children.

 

Two of those widows went to that tribe. The tribe who fought with blood. Those two mothers took their fatherless children to live with their husbands killers.

 One day we will worship side by side with those who heard the gospel because two grieving wives picked up where their martyred husbands left off.

 

This is the grace and power of God.

"at the same time we felt God was in the whole thing...the providence of God was at work"

--Elizabeth Elliot

Five Minute Friday: Adore.

The number of anniversaries was great and number. They had lived life together as a team. Raising the children. Growing the ministry. Making a living together.

Now here they were. Old, wrinkled, hard of hearing, silent, and forgetful.

This is how it is when you have grown old. The dashing groom and radiant bride is long gone, replaced by the effects of aging.

Still they adore. They sit there staring into each others eyes, but will never hear a word from lips silenced by sickness.

They adore even though nothing is returned. They adore each other because they have loved each other for many a year and can't imagine loving anyone else.

And then without warning a spouse dies. The grief shows that it doesn't matter that they newly wed bliss faded long ago. The one they adored is gone. The one that they will say was their better half is gone.

The one they loved through thick and thin. The one they shed tears with, faced hardship with. They are gone, replaced with a hole that cannot be filled with anyone else.

This is what it is to adore your spouse. When the years have stolen beauty and cognitive skills, but still there is love.

Adore is to love someone for what they cannot do. 

16. Whats on the Table

And its my favorite writing prompt of this month. Don't mind if I do share with you what I put on the table tonight. Its only just a small hobby that I do nearly every day.

By the way, I know I did miss some writing prompts. Confession. I was glad that our Internet was working at only half speed. The brain power for writing was just not there.

Back to our supper table tonight.

I make menu plans, but than I am the mood for something entirely different, so the menus are flung aside and I create something from random ingredients found in the cupboard.

Tonight I was hungry for sweet potatoes, as I am nearly every evening.

I quickly sliced three enormous sweet potatoes and laid the slices in a single layer on a baking sheet. Than I sprinkled them with sea salt, garlic powder, onion powder, and some chili powder to give a punch.

 Baked them till down and served with leftover chicken. Easy supper in less than 30 minutes. As much as I love cooking I like to do it in the quickest way possible.

And that is what mom and dad had for supper.

  I know that sounds completely terrible that I did not eat my own cooking. Let me explain. Tonight I decided to exercise and I refueled myself afterwards with protein. However, my month is watering at the anticipation of enjoying the leftovers for lunch tomorrow.

Speaking of which tomorrow will come quicker if I go to sleep now rather than putting it off.

Good Night.

11. Best photo of 2014.

That one time when we attempted to fly...

I'll leave the results to your imagination.