I feel restless though. Desperately wanting to do something, say something, be somewhere. If I take a meal or clean a house or write a card or give them my face and my tears then maybe it will bring some comfort, some relief. And though those acts are kind, I can't be what any of them are needing. I can't be Who they are needing.
There were moments in my evening the other night that I stood over my stove making a meal for my family, all whole and healthy and present, and I found myself weeping into a pot of beef stew. Maybe because I feel guilty for all I have when others seem to be having these same things ripped from them.
But it's more than guilt. It's this unnameable feeling that comes when you feel what someone else is feeling. When you are bearing one another's burdens and weeping with those who are weeping.
I wish I could somehow feel all of my Robin's pain so she could have some relief - even for a day. She bears so much physical pain and an emotional heartache that I could never understand the depths of. My best friend in the whole world....her mom is dying. I can hardly bear the thought of her knowing this kind of loss and I have found myself crying off and on for days, hurting not just for my friend and for my Robin - but hurting with them.
More news this week of death and hardship and break-ups and disappointments and broken relationships and deep, deep need. Here, now in this beautiful season of Christmas and miracles and giving. And hope.
I keep asking Him why now, why in this season, why during Christmas. The timing seems off and all of this sorrow and suffering doesn't coincide with all of my Hallmark movies with cliche endings and cheesy story lines and how it always magically snows at the very end of the movie.
And as I finished bathing my boys and getting them tucked safely in bed, I walked past a cabinet in my living room.
A thrill of hope....the weary world rejoices.