Don't you love these kind of moments?
I woke up this morning thinking about a friend of mine, maybe even two of them. How they took me from a place of sadness, held my hand, and helped me heal. Brought me to this current day, where happiness has returned and MAYBE I'm starting to find and see ME again.
I reflected back on things one of those friends said to me, as I compared and belittled my grief to his, a widow of four years. He encouraged me not to belittle or bury my grief or compare it to others.
He said, "Pain is pain." When I said, "Why am I struggling so much? Why did a broken heart hurt so much? Why did it dismantle me?" He said, "FIVE YEARS. It was FIVE YEARS. Give yourself some grace."
As I sent a Good Morning text to that friend this morning, I reflected back on these moments and what he has grown to mean to me. How our friendship has grown and blossomed. How we talked through our own personal valleys, as well as valleys we experienced together and yet, kept going forward.
My heart warmed as I thought about the journey.
And then I opened my laptop to read this morning's devotional. (Real-Life Devotions by Lysa TerKeurst, if you want to join the plan.) This is what I read.
I pray it blesses you like it did me. I love these moments when God not only shows up, but He says, "I heard you this morning. I have something for you."
Read on:
"Trapped like a firefly in a mason jar. Stifled, I peered out, watching others’ dreams, hopes and joys twinkle and fly by my stagnant ones. My own desires sat dusty in my valley of pain.
Extinguished. Exhausted. Expectant no longer.
“I’m so sorry your dreams are dashed,” my friend offered. “I wish I had known sooner how painful this disappointment has been. It would been an honor to walk it out with you.”
“Thanks. But a broken heart is silly. Especially in light of others’ pain.” Who was I to be sad about a mere breakup?
Silenced by self-doubt. Belittled by unworthiness. I diminished my pain, fearing it insignificant. In the process I belittled God’s care about my pain. Healing had been offered, yet I walked away, thinking it not worth his trouble.
My friend took my hand, and we journeyed back to when she had lost two children. Someone then had told her to check her pain at the door. Keep it in perspective to others’ pain.
We journeyed back to another time when pain was acknowledged, not tucked in a dark corner. Then she turned to the Lord, who administered healing from the grief of empty arms and empty cribs.
My friend took my hand again and we journeyed forward. “Don’t belittle your grief. Your pain is genuine. This valley is real. You must acknowledge the Lord is near and accept his help to get out.”
My friend granted me permission to feel my ache and loss. Drastically different than her own, yet no less honest. In that moment I realized I’d held my pain at a distance. Yet truth resonated in her words. No one loves us or offers healing like God does.
Perhaps it is time to acknowledge the pain, like Job did in Job 7:11. To become aware of the Lord’s care—an “always there” presence. No matter what other voices have said, your pain is valid. God cares deeply and longs to heal you. No pain is too great … or too small. Often we just need someone to remind us that God longs to remove the lid on our mason jar and fly next to us, out of the valley.
By Samantha Reed"
So, you see. God is listening. He does hear us.
Friend, don't belittle your valleys and your hurt. Don't compare it to others. Let God heal you.
As the saying goes, "Comparison is the thief of joy." Friend, don't let the devil win.
Go ahead. Open your mason jar. Let your firefly out and let the healing begin.
I love you, and so does God.
Amen. ~Gb❤️🙏🙏🙏
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