when tragedy strikes
the suffering of fools
temptations, tests, and trials
why does God test man, part one
testing and the education of life
what my cat taught me about testing, and trusting
why does God test man, part two
we are the clay
when we suffer: a warning
help when we hurt
flip the switch
the poetry of drawing near
hearts wounded by suffering
what my thimble taught me
pride: the hidden problem with hardness
portrait of a yielded heart
the poetry of a yielded heart
comfort when we suffer
taking comfort: psalm 42
the poetry of taking comfort
comfort, comfort, o my people
When my youngest daughter was about seven or eight years old, her finger was in the car door when it was slammed shut. The car door was latched, and her finger was in it. Everyone has had the experience of their finger being shut in a door. It hurts like few things on earth.
I took her in my lap and wrapped my arms around her, and just rocked her and rocked her while she cried. I think the reason this one incident stands out in my memory so much is that she cried inconsolably for such a long time; which meant it must have hurt really, really bad, for my youngest daughter was never a “crier.”
I didn’t try to shush her or tell her to stop crying; I just held her close and tight for as long as the pain lasted. Everything that was going on, which seemed so important five minutes before, was shelved, and nothing else mattered to me except for comforting my hurting child, and binding up that hurt.
Every mother reading this has done the same thing for her children; and those who are not mothers, had them: you know exactly what I am talking about.
That is comfort as a mother comforts.
As one whom his mother comforts,
So I will comfort you;
You shall be comforted in Jerusalem.”