Flooded with Grace

"Give thanks to the LORD, call on His name;
  make known among the nations what He has done.
 Sing to Him, sing praise to Him;
  tell of all His wonderful acts.
 Glory in His holy name;
  let the hearts of those who seek the LORD rejoice.
Look to the LORD and His strength;
 seek His face always."
                      I Chronicles 16:8-11


Though CaringBridge was my public journal, I have continued to write each day in my private one.  Oh, what the Lord teaches a grief-laden heart!  I've struggled with the whole "blog" concept, always thinking that a bit egotistical that one would think others were really interested in the ramblings of a scattered mind.  But I have been praying diligently, seeking the Lord's direction, and I believe this morning's Scripture was His definitive answer: I must tell.  He has done great things.  


     Is it really possible that five weeks have passed?  Five weeks since the Lord called our precious Jim home?  Surely it is His strength that has sustained us.  Reading and writing and crying and praying--these have been the essence of my days, yet please don't pity me--the intimacy I have shared with my Savior during this time has been sweet. He continues to make His presence and provision so very real.  Even in the "flash floods"--those moments (often unexpected) when the tears spill uncontrollably--He appears.  Just like the real floods, the raging waters don't linger too long, and soon the sun (or maybe the Son?) finds its way from behind the clouds.


     I must share how the Lord provided one particular grace-filled Wednesday a couple of weeks ago.  Florence Moore, a precious widow who leads a grief ministry at our church, had called me several times wanting to get together.  She was relentless and I was reluctant, but she listened to the Lord's prompting and wouldn't give up.  I finally gave in and she came over, spending several hours with me that morning.  What a blessing as she simply listened!  (A valuable lesson I learned in what a gift just listening can be.)  We talked about certain times, events to "pray up" for--those occasions to anticipate being especially difficult.  One thing she warned about was the arrival of the death certificates--seeing the loss in print can be heart wrenching.  And just as God had timed, the certificates arrived later that day.  How grateful I am for a saint who wouldn't let my resistance interfere with the Lord's insistence! 


     Preparing for a "flash flood," I waited to open the envelope until after Hunter had left for church.  Just as my sweet new friend had predicted, torrential tears followed.  Within just a few minutes, the doorbell rang.  Sobbing, I opened the door to find a dear colleague/friend from school.  Wanda was headed to her evening church service and stopped by to bring me a devotional book.  Now here is the greater grace: Wanda is a widow--and until my introduction to Florence, my only widow friend among my circle of friends in Hoover.  She alone knew precisely what I was feeling when I explained why I was so distressed.  In the midst of my tears and that comforting hug, I sensed such a powerful presence of the Lord that I could almost hear Him whispering, "I am here.  I told you that I would not leave you or forsake you."  Wow!  What a blessing!  Wanda stayed for a while, and after she left, the calm after the storm prevailed.  Indeed His presence does bring His peace--even in painful circumstances.  


     On several other occasions of late the Lord has vividly reminded me of His presence.  These I will share later.  For now just know that He is faithful--every day--rain or shine.