And it is now, as my heart heals from the loss of my beloved dog Red and prepares for the impending loss of my precious dog Jake, as my heart heals from something else that has torn apart my life in so many ways, that I find a beauty rising from the ashes of life’s rough and hard places. It is this. As I lay resting, something I am but learning to do in a once too-busy life, I see God’s tender touch. For I found myself thanking Him for the delicious breeze, something that for countless years I did not even recognize, acknowledge, even know.
I have rarely noticed breezes in my life. Nor butterflies. Nor the quiet of the night when the cars and trucks whizzing by finally come to their day’s conclusion. Nor a newly healed foot on a dog whose foot looked like it never would heal. Nor a full stomach after a yummy lunch eaten by a woman who has struggled with an eating disorder for about as long as I can remember.
Nor the blessing this morning of giving to others what the Lord had so graciously given me. There is so much throughout my life I have taken for granted, so consumed was I in the tragedies, the trials, the tribulations, the tests, the temptations. Too busy was I with the cares, the accomplishments, the failures, the challenges, the triumphs, oh, with every this and that that one would suppose is why we humans are really here on this earth.
But today, just days after I lay on the grass with my beloved Red bidding him farewell before his journey to heaven, just days later now preparing my heart for saying farewell to my sweet Jake, just days into a new season of my life as the Lord takes me into His loving arms in the wilderness and pours Himself into my heart as much as I allow Him to, yes today. Today I felt the breeze upon my shoulder. Because today, when I could so easily bury myself in the ashes of a life of so very many losses, today I thanked God for His breeze.
For with all the grief I have poured out to the Lord, I see now what I could not see before. His hand at work. In the smallest of ways. My heart is so raw, the flesh so tender, the brokenness so blatant from what I have shared and from so very much more, that I can feel what I could not feel before.
His heart. His hand. His blessings. Right down to the breeze. Grief will do that to a soul, won’t it? Grief come so crashing into a soul that one finds the heart wide open to see, to feel, to hear, to know what once perhaps was not known at all, or perhaps not recognized.
The breeze against my shoulder, His beauty, His touch upon my soul.