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Grief Won’t Be Tidy

I want grief to be tidy and obedient.

I'm okay with grief in a graveyard

But why must it come with me

everywhere I go?


I want to lock it down tight

In church

At parties

and conferences

But it demands attention

It won't be silenced.


So why does it hide when I make room?

When all is quiet

And no one is there to observe?

Why are my emotions numb at home with tissues close by

But tears come easily at work and the store?


Why must grief,

like the things that introduced us,

Be out of my control?

Why won't death, disease, and grief wait their turn

Or better yet flee when I pray?


But ocean waves only obey One voice

and that voice is not mine.

Only One can speak healing, calm and peace,

And sometimes he stays silent.


Jesus meets me in the waves of grief

but doesn't always calm the sea

He inquires "where is your faith?"

But never extinguishes it's flickering flame.


Grief, like life,

Won't obey me.

So can I trust Him with both?

The man of sorrows

Who is still well-aquainted with grief.


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