Talk to me, Abba.
Grief sneaks up on you. I was out celebrating some friends' (who are sisters) birthdays on Friday and all of a sudden the weight of this thing just bore down on me. I struggled to maintain my composure. My brother's birthday is today. I'm never going to celebrate his day with him again. For some reason, these last few weeks have been full of memories. I think part of the reason I am having them surface is because I am in a safe place to grieve.
Honestly, after my fun girl's night out, I came home, sat in a hot bath, and wept. I wept and grieved for several unspoken reasons. When grief is so heavy, I find that words become superfluous. I recalled in James where it tells me that if I draw near to the Lord, He will draw near to me. In that moment, I handed my grief to Jesus. A picture flooded my mind. It was of John, the beloved disciple, laying his head on Jesus' chest at a meal they shared. My soul rested in that peace.
On Sunday morning, I was listening to my beloved husband sing a song. "I want to sit at your feet, drink from the cup in your hand, lay back against you and breathe." The song of the beloved disciple. There, Jesus reminded me that He was with me and He simply wanted me to lean in and trust Him.
I often feel that the things that are too great for me to bear are a silent invitation to sit at His feet. He speaks to me in silence.
Then we closed our service with this prayer.
I have sat at your feet and I have eaten at your table, Abba. My cup overflows.