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The tears of a child

Tears. They overwhelm us, makes us uncomfortable, embarrass us, but when they flow in gentle cascades down the sweet, innocent little face of a child, they squeeze our heartstrings, searing every organ with deep founts of love for the innocent one who weeps.

Children's eyes should brim with innocence and joy, never with tears of pain and loss. Unfortunately, in this fallen world, children shed rivers of tears; bitter torrents that should never spring forth from eyes so new to the world.

Children hold a special place in the Father's heart. On earth, the little ones are often overlooked, abused and taken advantage of, but in heaven, they hold a special place of honor. In heaven, children have angels assigned to each of them. These angels are in intimate contact with the Father, whose nature is revealed throughout the Bible. 
"See that you do not despise one of these little ones, for I say to you, that their angels in heaven continually behold the face of My Father who is in heaven" (Matthew 18:10). 

Your little one in heaven is safe, cherished and protected in our Father's arms, but millions of children who are still on earth do not know that joy.

Won't you join me in praying for the children of the world, for the ones who have only known backbreaking labor their entire lives, hunger, pain and suffering? 

Let us not close our eyes against the tears of a child. 

We might not be able to help every child, but we can help some of them. The inhabitants of the Philippines have been hit hard by Typhoon Haiyan. As many as four million children are without food and water as aid effort struggles. 

Let us ask God how He would have us help these innocent ones. Please remember them in your prayers and if you can, make a donation by visiting this page. 

http://www.compassion.com/typhoon-hits-philippines.htm?referer=ph-typhoon-134566

Father, we pray for the four million children who are crying in the Philippines, we cry for the countless who have been left orphans and homeless, unprotected and hungry. Please bring them comfort through our arms, our hands, our legs, our very hearts. Let us wipe their tears together.

In the name of Jesus we pray and thank you. Amen. 

The thawing heart

Denial is a powerful balm.

It is like a bandage you clumsily affix upon a wound in hopes it will be enough.

However, the time will come when God will have to remove the bandage and let you walk through the valley of the thawing heart. It will hurt like nothing you could ever imagine. 

The protective layers you had wrapped around your heart to muffle the pain will be snatched away, leaving you exposed before God and the world: Your wound will be gaping, open, red and raw.

Memories will begin to resurface at rapid speed, giggles and sweet expressions of love you heard every day will taunt you and coil around you like a snake refusing to let go of its prey.

A barrage of tightly-locked memories of your child will cause your heart to tingle and compress. The cracks will be revealed, the agony will roar like a pack of lions while your heart disintegrates right inside your chest: A bomb of numbed emotions has exploded and you are left reeling from the suddenness of it.

Once again you come to the realization you are not in control. Your heart is rebelling against you and there is nothing you can do to stop it. Don’t ignore or repress the emotions, and above all, don’t attempt to hide behind godliness. When people ask you how you are, don’t feel you have to answer with a Bible verse and claim a joy that is not yours-yet. Unacknowledged emotions only fester and corrode the walls of your heart.

Be brave and acknowledge your emotions before God and a few close family members and friends. Only then will you be able to deal with them in a positive way. 

It is not wrong to feel anger, bitterness or resentment. You have lost your child, something completely unnatural according to our finite understanding of life: our children are supposed to bury us, not the other way around. 

Unfortunately life doesn’t conform to our logic or desires; we can’t cajole it into submission. Only God sees the big picture.

You may never fully understand why your child was taken from your loving arms, but rest assured one day, God will reveal it to you, here or in Heaven, and then, it will all make sense. “Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.” (1 Corinthians 13: 12).

You have two choices, two paths to thread upon: you can be bitter about the times you won’t get to spend with your child, or you can be thankful for the time you did get to spend with him/her. You can blame God for what happened and turn away from Him, or you can give Him your pain and run to His outstretched arms. The choice is yours.

                                               

                                    

Learn to see

We like to go through life with our eyes firmly shut against the pain and anguish that surrounds us. We select a nice, comfortable pair of glasses with rose-colored lenses and don them as soon as we leave the house every morning. 

The pretty colored lenses are our friend; they mirror back to us a warm and fuzzy world aglow with happy people dancing under an azure sky, and undermine the giant strokes of grays and blacks painted upon the landscape of reality we refuse to acknowledge. 

We can rub the lenses, buy even bigger ones, but sooner or later, our dear friend won't be able to tinge our lives with permanent hues of coral and amber. One day, our protective glasses are yanked from us, and we greet the world as it is: a blur of tears, dirt, moans, pangs, poverty and suffering, so much suffering. 

The earth echoes with the groans of the afflicted, the soil is collapsing, sinking under the tears and blood of agonized bodies who lie buried beneath its entrails. 

According to UNICEF, 22,000 children die each day due to poverty. Every year, 8 million people die because they are too poor to stay alive. 1 billion children worldwide are living in poverty. 

The figures are staggering. Oftentimes, they leave us feeling small and helpless. Our hearts pulsate with the sighs and cries of the faceless human beings these numbers represent. How can we fight against such an enemy? We are only one, we only have two arms and two legs, what can we possibly do? If poverty hasn't been eradicated after so much effort from people who gave their lives to the poor, how can we expect to win the battle? 

Who told us we have to win? The battle is not ours in the first place. It is the Lord's, and He will intervene, when the time is right. Meanwhile, we can look at the bare, wilted plains of a person's face ravaged by hunger and desperation, feel the battered soul begging for hope, and do something for that one person, that one child. 

Open your eyes today, discard the rose-colored glasses, and ask, God, who can I help today? How can I improve  conditions for a child or adult reeling under the burden of poverty and despair? 

Sit still and wait for His answer. It will come.

Sponsor a child, have a garage sale now that the weather is so nice, and donate the proceeds to a church or organization that is committed to helping people who toil day and night for so little in return, and watch God
do a work in your life.Your grieving heart will begin to thaw a little bit, one beat at a time.

When you get discouraged in your walk to fight alongside the oppressed and afflicted, ponder on this lovely quote from Johnny Carr, the author of Orphan Justice, "Poverty is not  necessarily an issue to solve; it is an opportunity to serve. As we go through each day, our heart's cry should be, Lord, where would you have me give, serve, and invest myself to bring hope to the poor?"

Now go out, give, love, become a channel of hope and compassion to a dying and desperate world. Glow with His love.

Jesus Appears and Saves 2 Muslim Children Buried Alive!!!

Interwoven hearts

The zephyr of God is flowing around your legs. Can you feel it? He is above you, on either side of you, and within you. He is stronger than your pain.

He will never leave you nor forsake you. (Hebrews 13: 5, 6). If He is with you, who can be against you?  (Romans 8:31).

Make Him the center of your life and together, you will overcome the pain, the grief, and the guilt. Give God all the broken fragments of your life and watch Him create a new palette and splash vibrant colors upon the canvas of your soul.

Get ready to enter into the best relationship you have ever known. Not only will you be comforted, soothed and consoled, but you will be loved beyond measure, unconditionally, perfectly.

What are you waiting for?

Come before your Creator and pray this prayer:

“Lord Jesus, I come to You a broken human being, a sinner. I am sorry for all the times I have not acknowledged You. I believe You died on the cross for me. Please forgive me for all of my sins. Cleanse me, all of me, and come and dwell within me now and forever. I make you my Lord.  and Savior. I love You. Amen.”

Beloved brother/sister, you are now a new creature! (2 Corinthians 5:17) You may not feel different, but a transformation has taken place in you.

You are now united to Christ for life, and your spirit will be in constant communion with the Holy Spirit (John 15:26). The Holy Spirit will guide you, correct you, and gently rebuke you when you are veering off course. He will become your invaluable helper, as described in John 14:26, “But the Advocate, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you all things and will remind you of everything I have said to you.”

 Mark this date on your calendar. You are now a child of God, and He is your Abba, your Daddy. You are part of the eternal family of God. Let these lovely words flood your soul and minister to you, for they have become your reality, “The Spirit you received does not make you slaves, so that you live in fear again; rather, the Spirit you received brought about your adoption to sonship. And by him we cry, ‘Abba, Father.’ The Spirit himself testifies with our spirit that we are God’s children. Now if we are children, then we are heirs—heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ, if indeed we share in his sufferings in order that we may also share in his glory.”

You are now in the hands of the Master Weaver. He will spend the rest of your days creating the perfect Masterpiece in you, and when you will finally behold His glory and beauty on the other side of Eternity with your baby nestled in your arms, your Father will slowly lift the scrolls of Heaven and the patchwork of your life will be yours to see, feel, grasp. Rows of uneven stitches will cause you to recoil, but gently, tenderly, God will turn it over and you will gasp at the perfect threads of gold and silver interwoven amid the rough fabric. Tears will stream down your cheeks when God will direct you to the pattern of letters embroidered in startling rows of exquisite detail, “Perfect in Christ Jesus.”

Beloved, stop trying to create the perfect patchwork without a manual. Give it to God, and He will mold you and pour you onto that patchwork until all that will remain will be the image of Jesus Christ.

Get moving. Start reading your Bible, get to know Your Father through prayer, look for a loving church, and tell your family, friends, coworkers, what Jesus has done for you.

Welcome to the family of God!

The forced journey

The moment your child breathed his last breath on this earth, you embarked on a trip you were not prepared for. You were not given time to pack in advance, you were not allowed to pore over brochures to give you an idea of your destination, you couldn’t book a hotel room and worst of all, you were not given the chance to say good-bye.

One day you were at home living your life, the next, you and your family were ushered into the “Grief Hotel” without a suitcase, much less a reservation.

Your legs could barely hold you as you stood in the lobby in bewilderment. You swayed when the receptionist at the front desk handed each of your family members a key. You were given none until all eyes locked on you. Your heart began to pump harder, faster, louder, when one by one, all of them, the people that you love, thrust the keys at you and turned their backs on you. The words engraved upon the keys’ smooth surface, fuzzy at first, marched before your burning eyes in a procession of horror: “Room reserved for the Guilty.” The receptionist smirked as she called a bellboy to escort you to the Guilty room. You were pushed inside and heard the clanging sound of the keys turning in the lock. You pounded on the door until your fingers bled, but no one heard you, and if they did, they ignored you.

You didn’t know what to do with yourself and seeing there was no way out of the room, you decided to turn the television on. You tried to blink the images away, but it was too late. Your blood turned to ice and sweat began to pour down your back when you saw yourself with your child that fateful day. Everything was clear, transparent, mocking, as the large screen taunted you with every detail you desperately wanted to erase from your brain. A cackle reached your ears. “Did you really think you could forget? You will never forget!”

You grabbed the remote and tried to punch a button, any button. All you wanted was to stop, stop that horror movie from playing. Your hands were numb; all your attempts to shut the television useless.  The cackles morphed into your baby’s sweet voice until all you heard was, “Guilty, guilty, guilty…”

Air. You needed air. You ran to the window and flung it open. Your stomach dropped to the floor when you saw them.

Faces, many of them, all of them bearing masks of hate, pointing their fingers at you, chanting, “There she/he is! Guilty. Monster. You should be in prison!”

You couldn’t stand anymore. You covered your face with your hands and slumped against the cold wall. Wild shrieks tore from your throat, bruising it until you were convinced you were going to choke to death. Good. Then maybe, just maybe, you would find peace. But even death refused to whisk you away. Everything and everyone conspired against you. They wanted to make sure you would never forget.

The Grief Room is where you replay the last moments before your child’s death over and over in the movie screen of your mind. You wish you could replace some of your actions that day, change what you did, how you did it, what you said and how you said it. You are tortured by what ifs and long to rewrite the script of your life and how you lived it on that last day. If you were not with your child those last moments, you try to bend reality and pretend you could have done something, that your presence could have changed things, if only you had been there.

You share your thoughts with close friends and family members who haven’t written you off and just when you think you have found a little respite, the fragile bud of hope blooming in the barren garden of your soul is yanked by the whispers, the indirect accusations and veiled threats aimed at you. They are everywhere, they won’t let you go. Solace is too much to ask for. You don’t deserve it. Upon closing your eyes, your own baby’s voice rings around you and drapes you in a shroud of regret.

Grief will grip you and wrestle with you. You will tumble and fall and slump and sink and cave and bow. Your own grief is enough to deal with, but when others’ mourning attacks you, you need to act. Guilt is a relentless, merciless warden, and if you give him the keys to your soul, he will keep you in that room for the rest of your life.

You have become a prisoner, but you don’t have to remain that way. The Guilt Room is not meant for a lifetime, though many have made the mistake of turning it into their permanent residence and have even moved their belongings there.

But it doesn’t have to be you. Refuse to stay locked within those walls. Make up your mind you are there to pass, not to stay. Be aggressive and get ready to exit that place of darkness.

Ask God to bring you clarity of mind and heart. Oftentimes your guilt builds dangerous fantasies and scenarios that are far removed from reality. As your mind begins to heal, you will realize most people are not against you and those that are are so grief-stricken they are lashing out at you because their heart is scarred. They need to blame someone, and whether you were with the child or not when he/she died is irrelevant. It is a defense mechanism they activate for their own self-preservation. If they allow themselves to entertain the frightening thought, even for mere seconds, that this could happen to them, they would go insane. It has nothing to do with you, it is about them, their pain, and the way they choose to cope is through anger and blame. That doesn’t make it right, but it frees you from the grip of unfounded guilt. Do not sink down to their level. Rise above it and begin to rebuild your life. Your baby is watching; make him/her proud.

Footsteps in my heart

You came like a rainbow

Spanning across the sky like an ocean of color

Your eyes reflected the love of God

Soon, much too soon,

You blinked and He became a blur

The tears would not let me see

What your heart knew:

He was nearer than we thought.

Why did we miss Him when you cried?

Why did we fail to hear His voice when you laughed?

I am hoarse from crying

Over you

Your short time on earth was a grain of sand

Here one moment, gone the next.

I know where you are and it brings me comfort

There are glimmers of sunlight through the clouds

God is purifying use through this trial. He wants our faith to become like gold: solid, pure, able to withstand anything and not to be confused with a cheap imitation.

Our hearts are cracked but not broken

Our tears are not a thunderstorm but soft raindrops falling on the countryside.

Our laughter has quieted but not died.

God will give us beauty for ashes and the garment of praise for the garment of heaviness.