Jeremiah 8:18 – You who are my Comforter in sorrow, my heart is faint within me. (NIV 2011)
When I came back, I found the house empty. In my ordinary life, Ron would have had a pot of potatoes on the boil and some kind of beef (his preference) on the barbecue. I'd push for a vegetable and maybe a salad, and we'd each eat a little of the other's choice, secretly grateful for our own.
But today, there was silence and me. As women do, I've been eating the stuff in the fridge that is close to expiry date or that has been sitting too long. I decided on poached eggs. I like them; Ron didn't. An egg meal meant I'd cook his eggs scrambled or whatever, first … not because he demanded it, but because that is how women love. We feed others and then ourselves. That meant that my meal tended to be on the cool side. I didn't notice nor really care.
So I poached up those eggs. They were the best eggs I'd eaten in forty eight years: hot, seasoned perfectly. And I cried. I thought about how I'd willingly eat cold eggs forever … if only I could have my honey here.
But then the Holy Spirit, the Word, and common sense took hold.
Do we miss our loved ones? Desperately. Yes.
Would we want them back so they could suffer some more? No.
Will we trust God to comfort and help us? Of course. Else why would we dare to call ourselves Christian?
Prayer: Lord, when everything seems so wrong, help us to know and understand that Your way is always right. Amen.
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