Dark Night of Sorrow

Gripping my pillow, I lay upon the bed where love had been. Tears hotly coursing down my cheeks into the fabric below creating wetness around my face. I sob until the sobbing turns into groaning as I toss and turn trying to flee from the pain. Thoughts speed across my memories. Faces, places, sights and smells take me back to those times again. But the emptiness I feel is indescribable and I cannot hope to restore that love again.

It's just one of many dark nights of sorrow. There are many types that tear apart the soul. Of loved ones who have gone and left this world for the next and children who've abandoned all they've known. It's when laying in some far off distant country; giving all you've got to serve the right. It's laying in a room when you are older and they have taken away your dignity. Again, it's sitting near a building in the city, huddled behind boxes trying to get warm; it's being just a little child crying from innocence stolen by someone. Families broken by divorce, friendships shattered through lies and deceit; children abandoned by their fathers; teens wasted by some twenty dollar high...now trapped for life; a parent sitting counting up the hours, their child has not come home and they're afraid; someone's kidnapped their precious loved one...is there anyone who can save us all again?

So many are the scenes that race across my mind. So many voices crying out in pain. The darkness overwhelms the thought of hope and leaves the sorrowful with loss and grief again.

Gripping pillows pictures, boxes, teddy-bears...just something! Holding on; thinking no one else could understand. You make your way through many lonely hours. The clock is slowly ticking on the stand.

From a foxhole to an empty hallway, from a hospital to a city street, from a nursing home to a funeral parlor; darkness finds a way in which to creep. From a barroom to a hotel lobby, on airplane or far across the sea, inside a classroom or in the teachers lounge, in a factory or in a corporate suite. From the long drive to the cemetery; from Taps to the 21 gun salute. From lying here holding to my pillow to laying across the grave of the bereaved.

Darkness comes into our lives and brings great sorrow through the night. We cannot see that light will dawn for the tears and aching hearts. Separation brought a tearing vows could not support...Oh ...this is the dark night of sorrow.

Yet, there was ONE who agonized all night just like you and he spent his crying moments in the Garden of Gethsemane. He clenched his hands in prayer; darkness gathered all around. Even though God was there...he agonized as blood dripped from his brow...Accused of things for which he wasn't guilty. He journeyed down a narrow street, falling while bearing that old rugged cross then he was lifted up to die for you and me.

That one dark night of sorrow led him to surrender up his life, he became our sacrifice so we could have eternal hope and joy forevermore. Just call upon his name and he'll wipe away your pain and light will come again. Hope will be renewed...that will never fade away. One day all our dark nights of sorrow will pass away. Yes! This dark night of sorrow....must pass away.

What is Praise to God part 4

What is Praise to God? part 3

What is Praise to God? part 2

Broken

It has been very difficult for me to understand why God allows suffering in this world. Just when I think I get a handle on it...I realize that for all of my analyzing...somethings about God remain a mystery.

I do know that God allows things to come in our lives to strengthen and to mold our character. With this I realization (chuckle) I know that God has been trying to smooth out the rough edges in me for some time now. However, God is not to blame for everything we go through in our lives. To which, let me add...that sometimes we have been our own worst enemies.

Yet there are distinct moments of brokenness. Where we stand and see the shattered pieces of our lives or the lives of others scattered all around and we question IF there can ever be anything good that comes of it. Can there truly be beauty from brokenness?

In the past eleven years I have been on a physical journey. It has not been a pleasant one...and in no way have I suffered in the capacity of some of you out there. My body has been wracked with pain and swelling due to disease and to top that off, I just happened to have already been overweight for years; trying one diet after another...and because of decreasing mobility and steroids...I regained all that I ever lost and then some...not to mention the struggle with painful flare-ups on my face...impossible to hide.

But God has shown me that sometime he allows us to become broken.

There was a man named Samuel Logan Brengle who was over the Salvation Army many years ago. One time he faced a lengthy hospital stay due to someone who threw bricks: hitting him in the head. It was during such a time that he wrote some of his greatest works...and God spoke to him, right there within the realm of his brokenness and said..."Samuel, no bricks...no books!"

Reflecting on my life...I know that if I had not been broken...there would not have been the compassion that I have for those who are struggling in so many areas with pain.
There would not have been times ministering to the abused, praying with broken parents, holding broken children, loving broken people or writing about brokenness.

The Bible says,

In everything give thanks: for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you. 1 Thes. 5:18 No bricks, no books? No brokenness.......No Blogs!

Unexpected Illness

April brought a journey to the hospital for my husband that would set us on an unexpected course. What we thought was extreme tiredness caused by diabetes was the need for quadruple bypass or as the Dr. said..."he will not live long".

It has been a very difficult experience, however we are very thankful that God has brought him through successfully!

Thanks for being patient with my blogging. I wil try to catch up soon.

God Bless!
Rose

Gethsemane

Gethsemane="olive press"

The Garden of Gethsemane was the "olive press of Christ.
It is said that harvesters beat the tree until the olives fall to the ground and then after they are gathered they are taken to an olive press and placed in a circular basin with a heavy round stone on top and are ground around and around until a reddish-hued liquid flows out.

Christ, in the Garden of Gethsemane faces such a press. It was here that he asked his father several times to "let this cup pass" from him. It is also hear that during his agonizing prayer, he sweat as if great drops of blood.

After the process of pressing the olives until all the liquid flows out; the harvesters then take the remaining paste of the olives and place it on burlap mats. This is called a smear. Smear in Hebrew - means Messiah.

Anything left is then made into soap for cleansing.

From now on I will never look at pure olive oil in the same way as I have so many times. I will have a greater appreciation for the process of the pressing out.

Christ was pressed out. His blood was poured out for our salvation and he as our Messiah will come again and receive us unto himself.

Do you feel as if you are in Gethsemane? Being pressed more that what you seem able to bear?
Remember, Gethsemane's agony became Calvary's victory! Sometimes we may need to stay in prayer all night long in order to behold the victory in our lives.

Memories Fade

Recently, my mother has been experiencing moments of forgetfulness. Last week she commented about a certain meal that I have made for her several times through the years. She said, "Oh, honey...I never knew you made that before!"

I tried to tell her that I had made it for her just last week, but it didn't do any good. She could not remember. All she remembered is that she used to make the same thing when she was younger, but that she didn't know that I made it too.

Later that week, she left the cold water running for awhile before I found that it was on.

I have since then found out that Mom is starting to show some very early signs of dementia. She is 81 years old and her doctor says that she has earned the right to be a "little" forgetful.

It pains me when she experiences these moments as it is a clear sign that she is not as young as she used to be and that health conditions have been a contributing factor.

Many are going through great difficulties and there are some who wish their loved ones could just remember their name or that they are their son or daughter, etc.

Everyday is a blessing! Everyday I have Mom is a precious gift. I will cherish everyone and hold her closely even if her memory fades.