Scared Sorrow - Michael Card

Before there were drops of rain, human tears fell in the garden, and that was when lament began.

In Eden, Adam and Eve enjoyed the unbroken Presence of God. It was immediate and intimate. His hesed, an untraslatable Hebrew word often rendered "loving-kindness," was given, reliable as the fresh, newly created air they both breathed.

Then, in a moment when the Presence seemed somehow impossibly absent, in some forgotten corner of the garden, Satan, the Accuser and ultimate cause of all lament, called into question the hesed of God.


The Presence that had always been (and sadly would have always been) palpable and immediate was altered, seemingly broken, and lament became the language of Adam and Even, of you and me, and indeed of all creation.

Hesed disbelieved.
Presence seemingly broken.
It was a sovereign sorrow that fell upon the world, a wordless sorrow beyond our knowing.

The two fundamental questions of complaint:
God, where are You? (Presence)
God, if You love me, then why? (hesed)


I read the first chapter of Michael Card's book a few weeks after the accident. My heart has asked and continues to asks these two questions - where are You God and do You love me?

Psalm 34:18
The Lord is close to the brokenhearted
and saves those who are crushed in spirit.

This is a promise. I choose to believe and rest in this promise.


"I have heard your prayer and seen your tears..." 2 Kings 20:5

"I am with you and will save you," declares the Lord. "I will restore you...," declares the Lord. Jeremiah 30:11,17

He will cover you with His feathers, and under His wings you will find refuge; His faithfulness will be your shield and rampart. Psalm 91:1,4


"Come, let us return to the Lord. He has torn us to pieces but he will heal us; he has injured us but he will bind up our wounds. ... He will revive us; ... He will restore us, that we may live in His presence. As surely as the sun rises, He will appear; He will come to us like the winter rains, like the spring rains that water the earth."
Hosea 6:1-3


When the Tears Fall - Tim Hughes

I've had questions without answers
I've known sorrow, I have known pain
But there's one thing that I cling to
You are faithful, Jesus You're true

When hope is lost, I call You Saviour
When pain surrounds, I call You Healer
When silence falls,
You'll be the song within my heart

In the lone hour of my sorrow
Through the darkest night of my soul
You surround me, You sustain me
My defender forever more

When hope is lost, I call You Saviour
When pain surrounds, I call You Healer
When silence falls,
You'll be the song within my heart

When the laughter fails to comfort
When my heart aches, Lord You'll be there
When confusion is all around me
And the darkness is my closest friend
Still I'll praise You
Jesus praise You

Tear Soup
Story by Pat Schwiebert and Chuck DeKlyen
Illustrated by Taylor Bills
(excerpts and pictures from original)

There once was an old and somewhat wise woman whom everyone called Grandy. She just suffered a big loss in her life. This is the story of how Grandy faced her loss by setting out to make tear soup.

For many years the custom of making tear soup had been forgotten. As peoples' lives became more rushed they found it much easier to pull "soup in a can" from the shelf and heat it on the stove.


But several years ago Grandy got a taste of a well-seasoned tear soup. One of her friends made it from scratch after her child died. As soon as Grandy tasted the rich flavor of that carefully made soup, she promised herself never again to assume that quicker was better.

Because of her great loss Grandy knew this time her recipe for tear soup would call for a big pot. With a big pot she would have plenty of room for all the feelings and all the tears she needed to stew in the pot over time.


She put on her apron because she knew it would get messy. It seems that grief is never clean. People feel misunderstood, feelings get hurt and wrong assumptions are made all over the place. To make matters worse, grief always takes longer to cook than anyone wants it to.

And then ... Grandy started to cry.
At first she sobbed.
Sometimes she wept quietly.
And sometimes when she was in a safe place where no one could hear her... she even wailed.

Grandy knew she had to make much of this part of the soup alone. She learned from past experiences that most people don't like being around tears. Her friends would worry if they knew just how many tears Grandy's recipe called for this time.

Grandy winced when she took a sip of the broth. All she could taste was salt from her teardrops. It tasted bitter, but she knew this was where she had to start. And for now, it was the only thing on her menu.


Grandy's arms ached and she felt stone cold and empty. There were no words that could describe the pain she was feeling. What's more, when she looked out the window it surprised her to see how the rest of the world was going on as usual while her world had stopped.

Grandy kept attending worship even though she was mad at God. Sometimes she yelled at God and asked why this happened. And sometimes she demanded to know where God was when she was feeling so alone.

Still, Grandy trusted God, but she didn't understand God. She sensed that people believed that if she really had faith she would be spared deep sorrow, anger and loneliness. Grandy kept reminding herself to be grateful for ALL the emotions that God had given her.


On some afternoons people would ask questions like, "Is it soup yet?" Or, "How long is it going to take? You have been at this for over a month now. It's time to get out of the kitchen." Grandy fumed at the caller's advice.

When she was alone and needed to think she found it helpful to keep notes on her soup making.

10/6 Today I'm upset that I have to be making this soup.
11/21 I don't think anyone remembers that I'm making soup from scratch.
11/29 What's the use, life seems to be so hard.


Making tear soup is hard work. Sometimes it was all she could think about. Even the things Grandy used to love to do, she didn't have the energy for, nor did she care about anymore.

Some of Grandy's friends over the years had not tended to their tear soup. Their soup boiled over and the pot scorched. What a mess. It took them a long time to clean up their pots and to start over. The smell of burnt soup still lingers in some of their homes.

Grandy knew there were times when she needed to take a break from her soup making. Even though it was hard to do, she forced herself to get away.


Grandy heard that a neighbor was having to take her turn in the kitchen. Some people thought that the neighbor was eating too much tear soup. So Grandy, being an old and somewhat wise woman, called and invited her to a special soup gathering where it's not bad manners to cry in your soup or have second helpings.


"Some days when you're making tear soup it's even hard to breathe. Some days you feel like running away. You just hope a better day comes along soon..."

I found words of hope this weekend.

Weeping may remain for a night,
but rejoicing comes in the morning.
Psalm 30:5

Although I feel as though the morning of my soul has not yet come, I find comfort again in Psalm 139 - even the darkness will not be dark to You; the night will shine like the day, for darkness is as light to You.


Beyond the Sorrow - Tammy Trent

I've just made it through the hardest weekend of the year for me - the annivesary of the day I lost my husband, Trent, in a diving accident. As a young married couple, we thought we'd have a long lifetime to grow old together. If you could see me sitting here, you'd see a woman who's still very broken. I must admit, there are still days when all I want to do is close the window shades and curl up on the couch praying that I'll wake up from this unbelievable dream that my life has become. I've traveled through grief and sorrow, and God keeps calling me to a new place, to take a step - just one step at a time - that will take me beyond the sorrow into His joy.


Psalm 30:5 as read by Tammy after her husband died.

Although you may mourn throughout the night and sorrow will endure throughout the night - probably throughout many nights, Tammy - My joy will always come in the morning. When you feel like you can't breathe, when you feel like you can't walk, when you can't see, when you can't get through the day... I'm still there carrying you. When you can't breathe one more time, then just rest your head on the pillow, and I'll be right there beside you. When you wake up the next morning, I'll be right there beside you. My joy will cover you. And joy will be the very thing that will bring you back to life again, because without it, you'll never survive this grief. Just trust Me, Tammy. Trust Me.


I am making a way in the desert.
Isaiah 43:19

"I have loved you with an everlasting love;
I have drawn you with loving-kindness."
Jeremiah 31:3

Your love will find me. - Brian Doerksen


Heading to Saskatchewan this weekend for my Grandpa Loewen's funeral. Choosing to trust in the promise that God is love and that His love will find me.

Missing What Never Will Be - Tim McCarthy
(A Young Widow's Lament)

Empty picture frames of memories never lived,
Barren bedroom scenes of children never born,
I'd never wish this kind of pain and emptiness on anyone.

I try to make it clean, my mind wants to explain,
Some kind of lesson learned, "Our loss is heaven's gain,"
It can't erase the truth, I'm sad and angry that you're gone.

I may look for answers, some reason for our loss,
But most of all, I just want you...

To walk in, share a jest, remind me that I'm blessed,
Break the silence with songs from your heart.
To wake up beside me, to call me mid-day,
To fall into dreams arm-in-arm.
How can I move on when all of my future
Was painted with you there?
I'm forever missing what never will be.

Prayers hang loose and frayed, like cobwebs on the path,
Stillborn and unfulfilled, dreams severed in half,
The tears evaporate like dewdrops in the burning of the sun.

My day is full of questions, the pieces all askew,
But most of all, I just want you...

To walk in, share a jest...

I woke up to sun today, I breathed a feeble breath,
And He reminded me, the last word is not death...
Someday...

You'll dance in, share a jest, and we'll know we've been blessed,
And we'll break out in songs from our soul.
And the streams of our tears will be lost in His spring,
In the river that makes all things whole.

And we'll stand in His presence, the joys and the pains
Will converge in the mystery of praise
And we'll see how the glory of God was revealled
In the tears and the grief of our days
If only for this day I'll look to the future,
Because I know you're there,
I'm clinging to hope for what someday will be.


Pictures taken after Nate broke his humerus.