Good morning…
The sun set on three lives in three days in my own personal corner of the world.
Friday, the middle school daughter of a middle school teacher at our school tragically died in the crash of a small engine plane. Saturday, a lifelong friend who was in our wedding finished his grueling battle with ALS. Sunday, I got word that a friend who came to class in our living room lost her husband, the father of their two boys.
“Numb, heartbroken,” another friend texted me last night. “All weekend I have thought how my world has gotten a little quieter, yet all around me, hearts are breaking. Including mine.”
“Yet I know God is so present,” she continued. “And I rest in that. I have both a grieving heart and profound peace. Only God, Sue. Only God can let us be in a juxtaposition so profound, so deep and feel his deep, deep love that reveals peace.”
“Just snapped this photo from Asheville of the setting sun,” I texted her back the image above. “Human beings and God’s powerful presence so beautifully juxtaposed. I am praying for these grieving families and for your own numb, broken heart. So grateful God’s love constantly pumps through our interconnected veins of prayer.”
“Enjoy Asheville – and that photo, stunning,” she replied. “When the sun sets and rises, prayers are lifted for you.”
“Amongst the weeds as I walk my dog,” she shared with me a down to earth photo. “Just a little reminder to make me smile and think how we would blow dandelions and make wishes as kids. Now, when I see a dandelion, I lift a prayer. A wish to a prayer.”
I think to myself, “Might our deepest wishes be our earnest prayers lifted to the God who constantly cares, in our rising and beyond our setting?”
After this weekend of numb, heartbreaking loss, my deep prayer echos the prayer of the psalmist: At every time and in every place— from the moment the sun rises to the moment the sun sets— may the name of the Eternal be high in the hearts of His people (Psalm 113:3, VOICE).
…Sue…
