Nope. You can’t. I’ll just say it. You can’t imagine what it’s like to be in my shoes. Husband. Daughter. Son. Gone in an instant.
What I really don’t think you can imagine is …the grace. The mercy. The provision. The tenderness. The personal, intimate sweetness.
I constantly “find grace to help in time of need.”
Here, in this place of grief, God is truly my refuge and strength and very present help in time of trouble. (Psalm 46:1). And this upside down kingdom leaves me in awe once again. Somehow the depth of the grief increases the ability to have joy. Shouldn’t the pain negate joy? Shouldn’t there be no more smiling or enjoying or looking forward to? Seems like that makes more sense than the face-splitting grins I sometimes find on my face and the joyful anticipation of the future that catches me off guard.
And the only reason it’s possible is because I have a safe place to go with the pain. One who sees me, knows me, is aware of what I need and completely capable of providing it.
And I can draw near because I have a Savior who gets it.
“Since then we have a great high priest who has passed through the heavens, Jesus, the Son of God, let us hold fast our confession.
For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin. Hebrews 4:14-15
In the midst of the pain and the things no one can imagine because each heart experiences their pain, see a glimpse with me of how big God is, how unfathomable his power, how deep and wide His mercy and compassion. His resources are endless and He looks on us with tenderness.