You know

“The days are long, but the years are short.” A little wood block painted black with white lettering makes me look off in the distance. From my current viewpoint, it seems the days were short as well. I blinked and forty-two years had passed. My gaze sees us young and in love, having children, working to make ends meet, graduations, grandchildren, freedom to travel, and then…illness that cut it all too short.

The days since my husband went to be with Jesus have been a blur of activity and tears. They don’t seem long either. Suddenly it’s been over two months, and I still wonder if it’s real. Still waiting for the bad dream to be over. As I come out of the fog, I get lost in these: ‘what could I have done differently/more/better’, ‘how could I have changed/prevented/fixed it’.

Then truth whispers to my heart…“O Lord, You have searched me and You know me.” (Psalm 139:1 NIV). You know my brokenness. You know my lostness. You know my loneliness. You know my longing to turn the clock back. You know…me. And You calm my racing heart reminding me that we lived each day to the fullest since the diagnosis. Made sweet memories. Told each other a thousand ‘I love yous’. And the real truth…this was not for me to change or fix.

Like Mary and Martha upon the death of their brother, I want to beat on your chest and say, ‘You could have prevented this!’ There is truth to that – but where is trust? Martha looking into Your face, Jesus, saw the love and heartbreak, but could see there was more. The reminder that this life isn’t all there is.

Yes, You raised Lazarus, Lord, and there was rejoicing. And my hubby went straight to Your arms – and You rejoiced over him and welcomed him home, where there is no more pain or sickness. And like Lazarus’ sisters, I am learning anew to trust You. Knowing that this hole in my soul that longs for my sweet man, has purpose.

Grief is such a weird thing. A myriad jumble of emotions. These sometimes come as crashing waves and sometimes come as gentle rain. Psalm 139:3b NIV reminds me “You are familiar with all my ways.” When I worry or weep, when I despair or distrust, when I have regret or I retreat – but also when I whisper prayers, when I delve into Your Word, when I rejoice over all the memories.

Where are you, reader? Are you in the valley of the shadow of death, visiting the tomb, or still a long way off from this unfamiliar and foreign part of life? This reminder from Psalm 139:4 NIV is for each of us: “Before a word is on my tongue You know it completely, O Lord.” That’s how well God knows you. Before you know your own thoughts, He knows them. He is the God we trust.

Trust doesn’t stop the tears, it makes sense of the tears. Trust doesn’t change the outcome, it reminds us this isn’t the end. Trust doesn’t end the longing, it seeks to replace the longing through an ever-deepening relationship with the One who promises: “The night is almost gone; the day of salvation will soon be here.” (Romans 13:12a NLT) – and – “He will wipe every tear from their eyes, and there will be no more death or sorrow or crying or pain. All these things are gone forever.” (Revelation 21:4 NLT) You know O Lord…