Listen to what I’m saying, O LORD
understand what I’m sighing about.
Listen to me when I call for help, my King and my God,
because I’m pleading with You.
O LORD, in the morning listen to me;
in the morning I lay my needs before You and look up.
Grief is weighing on my shoulders.
It is more smiting than the summer sun, heavier than the torrents of rain, deeper than the roots of all plants.
I lay my grief at the feet of my King and seek His comfort. He is not leaving me nor forsaking me, even when I struggle to make it through my days one lonely, empty, painful hour at a time. He is here, with me and holding me.
I beg for His comfort — pleading, beseeching my Father to bend low and hear the cries of His daughter. I am Christ’s and I claim His comfort as my own.
For as we share abundantly in Christ’s sufferings,
so through Christ we share abundantly in comfort too.
2 Corinthians 1:5
I am praying to cling to this next passage of Scripture, in Isaiah 54, claiming it as my own.
“For the mountains may depart
and the hills be removed,
but My steadfast love shall not depart from you,
and My covenant of peace shall not be removed,”
says the LORD, who has compassion on you.
“O afflicted one, storm-tossed and not comforted,
behold, I will set your stones in antimony,
and lay your foundations with sapphires.
I will make your pinnacles of agate,
your gates of carbuncles,
and all your wall of precious stones.
All your children shall be taught by the LORD,
and great shall be the peace of your children.
In righteousness you shall be established;
you shall be far from oppression, for you shall not fear;
and from terror, for it shall not come near you.
My Lord’s comfort is sweeter than honey, more peaceful than a tranquil stream, more beautiful than all the flowers of earth.
The grief still encompasses me. But His comforts are here amidst the grief.
For that I am thankful.