In the middle of why

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There’s a sweet girl. She reached out in her last days. Memories of roots that ran deep, times when her heart was full and she believed. When the end was near, she called out again. 

She asked, “Why?” 

I said I didn’t know.

I don’t understand these things.

She said, “I’m scared.”

I held her hand. In the face of pain and hard questions sometimes words seem hollow. In my shaky voice, I shared where my hope comes from. My faith that has seen me through many storms. The unconditional love that has rescued me. I sat beside her and looked at the childhood posters on her wall of kitty cats, puppies and sparkly stars and my eyes filled with tears as I thought about full circles, deep pain, planted seeds and love in broken up places. 

That was all.

A few days later she was at peace.

Heart settled.

Her pain gone.

And I’m full of thanks that I got to sit beside her. 

Grateful that I entered her life again, even just for a short time.

That was perfect grace. 

Since then, the question rings in my mind. 

“Why?”

It’s the question asked in the middle of it all. When pain is right smack in the face, and things are closing in. It’s whispered it in the dark loneliness of night when it’s all too much to bear, and fountains of tears have been shed and hearts faintly beat from dry parched places. 

We see those we love slipping away. We feel helpless and full of pain. 

We feel like life is not what we planned or hoped. Our dreams seem lost.

We’ve been hurt and rejected and kicked to the curb. We feel unwanted and unloved.

We want to stand on a mountain and scream to the world

Why?

Somedays the heart is just so full of things that hurt. 

There is no perfect life.

But in the middle of it all there is perfect peace.

Peace that runs down. Peace that overflows and mixes with grace. Peace that is tied to a hope that is our anchor.

Anchor of the soul. Strong and secure.

That anchor holds fast. The storms, the wind and the waves will come.

In the middle of the why,

we hold on tight.

He is steadfast.

He is strong. 

He is our peace.

He is our grace. 

He is. 

In that small room that represented a lifetime – there were hard questions. No real answers. 

There was also peace in the middle of flowing grace. 

In the middle 

of why.

He is there. 

He is. 

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