I am numbered with those who go down into the pit; I am a man without strength. // Psalm 88:5
Without fail, grabbing a cup of coffee at my hometown coffee shop means I will cross paths with at least one long-lost person from my childhood. I always look forward to these blasts from the past and the chance to reconnect. Recently, my cherished connection was a former teacher who not long ago lost her adult son.
It was an honor to give her a hug and, for just a few moments, to accompany her in her suffering and share in her grief.
Sometimes the Psalmist’s cries (see Psalm 88:2-8) or Job’s words of anguish (see Job 3: 1-3, 11-17) from today’s Readings feel word for word like the cry of my own heart:
I am at the bottom of a pit and I just can’t see the way out.
In these instances I consider myself a world-class coping expert: I wipe the tears away and pretend I am okay. I launch myself headfirst into a Netflix binge and tell myself it is a healthy distraction. I avoid time in Adoration because I just don’t want to go into those hard places with the Lord.
And yet, almost on the daily, I am challenged and invited to do what Job and the Psalmist do: I learn to give in and simply cry out to Him.
Like Job and like the Psalmist, I’ve learned that the best way, the most healing way to carry the burdens of my heart is to make my sorrows heard. The Lord is not uncomfortable with my tears. He won’t tell me to buck up or awkwardly change the subject when I bring my sorrows to Him. He walked our broken world, and He is willing to walk with us through the landscape of our broken hearts, if only we will let Him.
Whatever your grief is today, sister, you are not alone in the pit. Cry out to Him for help, and trust that He is right there with you.
Karen Schultz hails from the Land of 10,000 Lakes, where she is often found in or near one of them. As a doula, lactation educator, and FertilityCare Practitioner, she finds joy in helping women to embrace the gift of their bodies. Downtime is found in quiet adoration chapels, farmers markets and gardens, and listening to bluegrass music. She is the author of Blessed Conversations: Misericordia.
Walk With Us this Advent
Get Your Prayerful Planner
