The gray clouds above whispered of the coming rain. But what would be an omen of gloom, sang, instead, a different tune – as if the forest around me knew a secret I’d yet to discover. The air, thick with the anticipation of the looming storm, held a mist that glistened off of the leaves revealing a beauty I’d never seen before – the beauty of the longing for the storm.
The forest knew the storm was coming, but it wasn’t afraid. It waited eagerly for the nourishment but a few thunder rolls away. For though the rain might beat down, bruising leaves and breaking twigs, the water would be life-giving, bringing refreshment to the withering wilderness.
It was then that I heard Him say, “Daughter, it’s okay to not be okay.” So I stopped…
the air clinging to the inside my nostrils and
tasting, for once, the sweetness of sorrow –
sorrow for all the what-ifs, the almosts and the maybes,
sorrow for the husband I’ve yet to meet and the babies,
sorrow for the yesterdays, todays and tomorrows –
“I thought loving You meant being happy all the time.”
“No, Daughter. Don’t you know that I was a man of sorrows? Now won’t you let me sit with you in yours?”
2 My servant grew up in the Lord’s presence like a tender green shoot, like a root in dry ground.
There was nothing beautiful or majestic about his appearance, nothing to attract us to him.
3 He was despised and rejected— a man of sorrows, acquainted with deepest grief.
We turned our backs on him and looked the other way. He was despised, and we did not care.
4 Yet it was our weaknesses he carried; it was our sorrows that weighed him down.
And we thought his troubles were a punishment from God, a punishment for his own sins!
5 But he was pierced for our rebellion, crushed for our sins.
He was beaten so we could be whole.
He was whipped so we could be healed.
6 All of us, like sheep, have strayed away.
We have left God’s paths to follow our own.
Yet the Lord laid on him the sins of us all.
Isaiah 53: 2-6 NLT
And to think, I could have missed the message in the mist were it not for You dwelling in my midst.
Thank you, Father.