My heart rejoices for those who have entered into Glory.
But yes, it grieves. Still, it grieves.
My heart rejoices for having known these loved ones. For all that they have imparted.
But yes, my heart grieves, for it feels their absence.
In the past four years, I have lost loved ones in such a succession, that this heart of mine has not had sufficient time to process and to heal. It has deeply complicated the already extraordinarily difficult work of bereavement.
My heart rejoices for having known these loved ones. For all that they have imparted.
But yes, my heart grieves, for it feels their absence.
In the past four years, I have lost loved ones in such a succession, that this heart of mine has not had sufficient time to process and to heal. It has deeply complicated the already extraordinarily difficult work of bereavement.
It has tried my patience, tried my resilience, and tried my faith.
I have said "I do not know what I would do if I had to face another loss...I do not know how I would go on..."
And then, indeed, I would. I would again be afflicted by those waves of sorrow, confusion, disappointment, shattered dreams and shattered hope...
But the nature of this life, that death, for now, is a part of it...I surely, will still face this as I walk on...
Although, I pray, that for a while, I may rest, sorrow is a part of this life. This world is dark, it is trying, and it is not Home.
I graduate, four months from tomorrow. I will surely work into the summer, finishing the whole of my thesis and all of the required details...but, then what is next? I do not know.
But, indeed, for all the sorrow I have seen in my brief years, indeed, but a vapor, I have known love and grace, so deeply.
I often get lost in all of the sadness. It is hard to sift through it all. When I witness others, thrust into the waters of grief, I weep for them, too. I understand the road that lies ahead of them. I wish to comfort, in any way that I can.
I struggle, attempting to convey what I sense I can never fully express. Writing has been an outlet, a way in which I am able to process and understand these complex circumstances, and the feelings and emotions and thoughts which pervade my heart and mind and soul.
When all Thy mercies, O my God,
My rising soul surveys,
Transported with the view I'm lost
In wonder, love, and praise.
Unnumbered comforts to my soul
Thy tender care bestowed
Before my infant heart could know
From whom those comforts flowed
When worn with sickness, oft hast Thou,
With health renewed my face,
And when in sins and sorrows bowed,
Revived my soul with grace.
Through every period of my life
Thy goodness I'll pursue,
And after death, in distant worlds,
The glorious theme renew.
I struggle, attempting to convey what I sense I can never fully express. Writing has been an outlet, a way in which I am able to process and understand these complex circumstances, and the feelings and emotions and thoughts which pervade my heart and mind and soul.
When all Thy mercies, O my God,
My rising soul surveys,
Transported with the view I'm lost
In wonder, love, and praise.
Unnumbered comforts to my soul
Thy tender care bestowed
Before my infant heart could know
From whom those comforts flowed
When worn with sickness, oft hast Thou,
With health renewed my face,
And when in sins and sorrows bowed,
Revived my soul with grace.
Through every period of my life
Thy goodness I'll pursue,
And after death, in distant worlds,
The glorious theme renew.