I’ve been praying a lot at the piano these days. Sometimes it’s the only way I know how to pray.
Last night a friend’s husband unexpectedly passed away, leaving her alone with their two young children. Another friend is processing what life looks like for her and her husband one month after the death of their 21-month daughter. And it is the one year anniversary of my uncle’s death.
I am angry. It isn’t fair. There is something fundamentally wrong about a person dying young. And it wasn’t God’s plan.
It’s easy to blame God, to ask why, to shake my fist and say, “If you really cared, you would have…” But even as I shout, I realize it is because I am confident that God hears me. As I cry out my grief, I know it is because I believe God does care.
And so I pray at the piano, with songs that remind me of who God has always been and always is, words that help me turn to the only one who can comfort me when life hurts this badly.
Did you cry When you saw the tears of the ones who’d been left behind?
Did you grieve When you felt the pain that they carried deep inside?
And we’re tempted to ask where you are… why you hide But we cling to the promise you gave to remind us
Not even a sparrow falls without your notice And are not our lives worth much more in your sight? And you catch each tear and your love we remember In the words you have said, that not even a sparrow falls
I have read That the death of your saints is a costly thing in your eyes
I have heard Of the tears that you shed when the one whom you loved had died
Yet the voice that asked Mary, “Do you know that I am the life?” Still speaks to our hearts, giving hope in the hardest times
Not even a sparrow falls without your notice And are not our lives worth much more in your sight? And you catch each tear and your love we remember In the words you have said, that not even a sparrow falls
To April, to Lesa, to my family, and to all who grieve, may you find comfort and rest in the one who sees you and loves you and whose heart breaks with you.
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