Attending a conference for moms who have suffered the loss of a child brings all kinds of emotions, regardless of how long a mom has walked her journey of grief. And I do realize our journey travels through crushing darkness and suffocating pain, but it will emerge into the light of God’s presence, hope, and enabling grace as we allow Him to walk with us and uphold us. And with His grace actively and intimately at work in our lives, both the darkness and the pain soften, and we begin to find what God has for us as our loss is woven into the very fabric of our lives. But, bring all of those moms together, or at least enough to fill 40 rooms in a hotel, plus a bunch commuting from the local area, and the freshness of grief or the memories of loss will re-surface emotions as they come together to find what God is offering through Himself and through other moms.
My friend and I attended together, sharing a double room for the long weekend. Our room opened up to a private balcony, ended by thick concrete walls, and at the front, a railing that framed the usually tranquil scene of the desert mountains. Spring though was changing into summer, and the wind advisory wasn’t unexpected. Comfortably seated on the balcony, we watched the usually tranquil scene being jumbled by the wind. Our room was on the third floor and the palm trees that circled the fountains below stood taller than our third floor, but tonight, they were bending and swaying with the winds of thirty to forty miles an hour. The sprays from the pool below followed the direction of the wind, dancing in their wetness, captivating our thoughts as we watched. By desert standards, it was a relatively mild wind storm, but still neither of us had any desire to go for a walk that evening. We were “comfortably seated,” secure and safe, tucked away from the wind, watching with fascination, and yet strangely, feeling very peaceful.
As we watched, we contemplated. Didn’t each mom at our conference represent a storm of loss and pain? Aren’t there still other storms we would prefer not to walk through, and yet sometimes we can find ourselves being bent and swayed, tossed and jumbled by the things that can happen in our lives? Whatever the storm, whatever the intensity of the storm, whatever the reason for the storm, it is still unsettling and it still totally distorts the tranquil scene of life we would much rather enjoy. And in the storm, we long for a safe place, a secure place, a quiet place, a place of peace and comfort. And God provides. The “balcony” is there. Securely framed within the concrete strength of His love and His grace. And my God is there, offering me a place to sit in the peace of His presence. Tucked away from the wind. Safe, even when the storm blows. Matt Redman said it well, Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, Your perfect love is casting out fear. And even when I'm caught in the middle of the storms of this life, I won't turn back; I know you are near. ...... For my God is with me. And if my God is with me ..... through the calm and through the storm .... Oh no, [He] never lets go, in every high and every low. ...... Lord, You never let go of me. Stay on the balcony. God provides.
– Bev
(Related Bible reading: Psalm 23:1-6)
