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The pain comes unexpectedly –
It takes me by surprise.
I blink and look away and pray
My tears won’t leave my eyes.

I thought that I had made my peace
With this huge, gaping loss,
But peace today has flown
Beyond a chasm I can’t cross.

Yet, Jesus sees my heavy sighs,
And catches all my tears.
He lifts me up again
From this deep pain that spans long years.

My heavy loss will never leave:
My source of pain remains,
But through it all, God shows
He’s well-acquainted with my pains.

by Gwennon
September 7, 2013, the 22nd anniversary of my mother’s last birthday

Isaiah 53:3, speaking of Jesus:
“ . . . a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief . . .”
Good news for those of us who mourn!

Dear Friends, this is a partly sad week for me, and is so every year because between my mother’s last birthday and the day of her death lies a week of commemorative “lasts” that sometimes haunt me a bit. This year is a bit harder in this respect as the days on the calendar correspond exactly to the days of the week on which they fell during this tragic time. Now I’m not actually wallowing in these sorrows at the moment, thank the Lord! But this is a time of year when the permanence of my earthly loss tends to rise up at unexpected times. (I believe that this is not a truly eternal loss, as I am convinced that my mother is with Jesus now, having sought Him earnestly all her life.)

So, several of my poems this week will be dealing either with loss, or with Jesus carrying me through some kind of pain.

But, to avoid being completely maudlin in this one post, let me give you some happier news:

Today when I babysat my grand-daughter, Harmony, who is now just over 3 months old, she smiled a lot more at me than she ever has. She also tried to talk for several minutes with my son and me. We all smiled a lot together today. This was a very good visit. Sorrows pass, and life, indeed, does go on.

Regardless of my oldest daughter’s need sleep when the baby sleeps, our “weekend” visitation visit with our grand-doggie “Lola” – which stretched from a long (too long, according to my husband) 3-day-weekend visit into a 10-day-nightmare of endless clean-ups and inconveniences – has finally ended, and Lola is back at home with her parents and new baby. My husband said, “You want to know the difference between Lizzie’s baby and Lizzie’s dog? Lizzie’s baby LIKES me!” (But, to be honest, maybe this is to be expected, since my husband has always adored the grand-baby, but never liked the grand-doggie.) Lacey (daughter number three) is also very glad to wave goodbye to Lola: “Roosevelt and Lola were the worst DOG-COUPLE in the whole wide world! You want to know what they did to me? EVERY morning, 30 minutes before my alarm was supposed to go off, they started barking, and I never could go back to sleep. Then, when I needed to get out of bed, there they were, snuggling me on both sides and trying to keep me from getting up!” Fluffy, our grannie-dog, who is decidedly her own person and a strong introvert, especially since her bones started aching, would actually be out doing a victory dance about this time. But her bones are aching. And she’s too tired to waste extra energy celebrating something that is already giving her so much rest. Roosevelt, on the other hand, may be feeling a depression coming on now that his dog-friend is gone. You may send condolences to him, if you like.

Praying for you to know how much God loves you today,