It’s a hurt, fresh and painful, that starts the tears flowing.
The days of patching it with a Band-Aid are over. Now I can only watch as the tears flow and the sobs come and the heartbreak drips down her cheeks and soaks deep into my soul.
Does it help to let her know that I’ve been there, long ago though it was? Should I let her know that the emotions she’s experiencing are those I still feel at times?
I snag a tissue from the box for each of us. I gently speak words of hope, reminding us both that God knows when we hurt – knows and cares deeply. As with every burden that weighs us down, we can take this one to Him. We pray and exchange a hug.
She calms down and I leave the room. My mother’s heart drives me to solve this problem, wipe away her pain. But it’s not like the scraped knee she brought to me when she was five. No, this is a soul hurt, an emotional pain that no medicine can cure.
As I lie in bed waiting for my own sleep to come, I continue to mull it over, trying to think of fixes for her situation. But what I’ve known all along is becoming clearer and clearer as she matures. I can’t fix it all.
There’s growing, painful as it is, taking place before my eyes. It’s all part of His plan and it can produce in her what I, with all my good intentions, cannot. Through moments just like this one, He can draw her to Himself, show her that He can heal her every hurt and be her dearest friend.
So I lay it at His feet, not once, but over and over and over again. Together we will wait for Him to work and realize once again that His goodness and love are there for His children at every turn.