Psalm 23:4 Even when the way goes through Death Valley, I'm not afraid when you walk at my side. Your trusty shepherd's crook makes me feel secure. -The Message translation

Is it because there are others
Held fast by fleece-gripping thorns
In this dark accursed valley,
That he hasn't come to me yet?
I know he will find me as promised.
(In the distance I hear all the flock.)
But alone here I cannot stop calling,
All my struggles availing me not.
Unable to see through the darkness,
I can find of my shepherd no sign.
Or can it be he, unknown, is near me,
My bleatings out-sounding his steps?
Though I listen my hardest, I hear nothing,
But I will not surrender the wait.
Much too soon to say he's never coming,
To wonder, did he forget?
I continue to call, sometimes loudly,
When thorns press more sharp and more deep,
All I know of the time of his coming
Is that it is only not yet.

I walked in the dusty pasture,
near drought, yet I hoped for refreshment.
Dry underfoot grasses crackled,
but a reddened leaf blazed with glory.
Stiff thistle pins threatened to stick me,
but their mauve thready blossoms were scented.
And in a patch milkweed called common,
a new-minted monarch began life.

Lament for a Son by Nicholas Wolterstorff
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

A most painful book to read, resonating with the pain of everyone who has lost someone. P. 89: "Suffering is for the loving...In commanding us to love, God invites us to suffer." Something I also have come to realize.

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unfading and unfailing

the love past all loves

unknown to the unknowing

for whom we pray

for we may be they

we, worshiping in whispers,

while hearts shout out within us

from our own selves please save us

or hope have we none

forever dreaming of returning

to true home, weeping, yearning,

recognizing unseen parent

The Cradler of us all

Head: stone
Heart: ache
Your loss: too much to take
Life: long
We: left behind
You: always on our mind

Yesterday
And here I sit calmly reading the hours away,
While the pit of pain in me shouts, "It's wrong
that all goes on and he is gone!"
Today
I crack my ribcage open
before the eyes of God,
lay bare the burning embers.
the smoldering red hot fog,
expose the hidden torture,
the deep volcanic pain,
as all I have to offer.
Here waiting I remain.
I hold the two together,
can hardly stand the heat,
the God I call all-knowing,
my writhing roaring grief.