Heart wounds

I wrote in my last post that we are facing some stuff and some things. A loved one is sick and while there is always hope, there is also a grief so deep that we find ourselves turned inside out. A few days ago I accidentally brushed against the iron and it seared the skin on my arm. It is red and raw and it will probably leave a scar. Seeing it reminds me that there are seasons when life is lived in the raw, that our hearts bear wounds that are, for a time, fresh and red and sensitive to the slightest touch.

Beneath this heart wound is the constant pulse and pull to be Home, to close the distance by an ocean and a country or two. As our hearts beat for home and healing, would you please lift a prayer on our behalf? Pray for wisdom, peace and signs and wonders too. I think I’ll probably go quiet on the subject for a while. So, if you return and find me rambling on about my beef with the laundry pile, do know that beneath the seemingly normal, we’re still living a bit sensitive to the touch.

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  • Anonymous

    Am praying for you now. Life is just plain tough sometimes. My mom has terminal cancer and lives in another state (at least it’s not another country!). I’m often torn between feeling that I need to go take care of her and knowing that I need to take care of my own small child. Not being able to do anything “practical” sometimes drives me nuts. I’m (slowly) learning to “trust in the Lord with all [my] heart . . . ” and give up the illusion of control. Some days are better than others. I do know that God will get us through this.

  • Lifting up prayers for you right now, Kimberly. Breathe each moment slow and seek the gifts that live among the pain. God is there; He’s never NOT there. Trust in that, sweet sister.

  • Lighting a candle. Saying a prayer.