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Grace in the Black

Deep in the night, I was awakened by her desperate pleas for help.  Before my eyes could open her furnace filled hands grabbed hold of my arm, shaking me with urgency.  "Mommy wake up!  Something is wrong, I can't open my eyes.  Help me!  Please, help me!"  Fear and desperation trembled through her raspy voice.  Eyes matted shut.  This had never happened before.  Leading her to the edge of the tub she sat patiently... waiting for my help.  A cool, damp cloth caressed her face.  Slowly wiping away the scales that kept her eyes from opening and the fever that burned inside.  In time, it began to wipe away the fear and worry displayed.  Holding her chin within my palm..I shook my head... my heart was troubled.  Why did she fear so?  Why was she so uncertain?  Didn't she know I would help her...always.  Huge hazel eyes once again could see, no longer blinded by her circumstance.  Peace was restored to her troubled spirit.  Hugs and kisses spilled out as my hand swept the long strands from her face tucking them behind her ears...reassuring that everything was alright -  all was well.

Making my way back to bed, I lay still within the cotton, the only sound resonating in this house was breath.  But my heart continued to ask why.  What had I done, or failed to do, to cause her lack of confidence in me?  What caused such overwhelming desperation to creep into her precious heart?  In the black I am haunted with remembrance of failures.  I feel like such a failure so much of the time. 

Praying, I pour it upon His feet.  I cry.  I doubt.  I wrestle.  Then, then -I understand.  Her lack of trust in me was a lesson.  How many times do I cry out and plead with God...desperation in my voice as if He doesn't see...doesn't care?  Closing my eyes I could imagine Him standing in front of me...arms outstretched...I could hear Him say: after all this, all I have walked beside you, and carried you through, you still doubt?  You still don't trust me?  My heart ached.  There is no reason for my lack of trust.  No failures on His part.  It's my own heart that fails...fails to have faith.  Blinded so often by the circumstances that surround, I fear.  I grow weary.  I listen to the deceiving voice that calls me failure.  How patient and gentle He is.  Quietly, in the still of the night, He wipes the scales from my eyes that I may see again... and know how much I am loved.  Drifting back to sleep my heart is comforted for I am held.

Until then...
Jessie 
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