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
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.