Grief is like an underground river that periodically works its way to the surface. It's reawakening can be startling and can elicit a powerful surge of sorrow and loneliness.
The other day, Debbie and I went to a very small grocery store here in Hope Town to pick up a few necessities. While checking out, we entered into dialogue with the islander woman who helped us. When Deb asked her name, she realized that we were speaking to a woman whose 18 year-old son had been washed out to sea during the 2019 hurricane! Debbie stepped to her side and whispered gently:
"My sister told me about you. You lost your son in the hurricane, right?"
[Head down] "Yes, mam."
"My husband and I have prayed for you. We lost our son five years ago and understand a little bit about the pain you are going through. God will give you strength!"
Two women - one black, one white - embraced and wept over the loss of their sons.
And the river goes underground again...
I'm sitting at the counter working on my next book - a devotional. I'm reviewing old Facebook posts and blog articles to gather material. I read a delightful blog I wrote in June of 2012. [It was titled, "I Talk To Birds" - if you want to check it out.] Before I closed the page, I noticed that two comments had been left on the blog. One was anonymous and the other was from Travis: "Haha, nice! I enjoy their chatter too! Helps me wake up in the mornings."
The water bursts through the surface and from my eyes! How I miss him! How I long to lift my phone and hear, "Hey Pops!"
And the river goes underground again...
When it will surface next, I do not know; but I know it will...
Heavenly Father,
Thank You for giving us Travis for nearly forty years.
His joy was effervescent and his laugh made us smile.
He gave us SO MUCH to be proud of!
Bless the dear woman from the store,
and all others who know this pain of having lost children.
Wipe the tears from our eyes and give us hope!
For Jesus' sake, Amen
