and a friend informs you they have an incurable disease. Not one of those 40-50-60 percent chance things, but one of those truly incurable diseases, the ones that no one has survived. Your heart sinks, you search for words, words that would normally be uplifting like; faith, prayers, miracle, support, love, etc. But no matter how heart-felt those words are expressed they seem to ring hollow, empty, and inadequate. You put yourself in their position. Then you get angry. You know your friend is sharing those same emotions as you, but a hundred times over.
Like a petulant child you want to stomp your feet, shake you fist at the heavens and scream, “It’s not fair, it’s not fair!’
Then a voice comes softly but clearly, “No, it’s not fair, fairness implies justice. I came not to bring justice, but mercy, love, and grace. I play the long game. You are my beloved, you are my beloved through all seasons, even this season of pain and suffering, it is but a moment. You are my child, I’ve got you … promise!”
Peace (and prayers) Poppy