I am worn out by the weight of grief and hopelessness I carry on another’s behalf. It is a heavy thing to come to the end of life and face the spectre of an eternity without the Source of all hope, of life and beauty and joy.
A week from now, I’ll be in Wisconsin at my grandfather’s bedside, in all probability the last time I’ll ever see him. Not just on this earth, but for all time. I beg the Father daily to break the hardness in his heart. There is a glimmer of hope still, I suppose. But I cannot see it. Oh God, forgive my faithless, fainting heart.
“Thus says the LORD, the God of David your father: I have heard your prayer; I have seen your tears. Behold, I will heal you.”
“You have kept count of my tossings; put my tears in your bottle. Are they not in your book?”