Unheld Pain

There is a pain that cannot be contained, cannot be calmed, cannot be comforted. Like a tin roof that will not hold water, it bears down the rain fast and constant, holding none of it, save the few maverick drops at the last that hang uncertainly. This pain rain is a ruthless tyrant, and if not for the grace of my Abba, I would be swept into the gutter with it.

I woodenly do the next thing, unsure of anything. It's like walking through a breathable mud--I cannot see, but I can still function. I have no other help but the One I've asked to drive me through all this. My poor dad can hardly speak. I don't know that Alan knows what to do. No one seems to be in charge of this show, so we find ourselves somehow given the next thing. It is a thoroughly difficult mission, yet not without great, great Grace and Provision.

Thank You, Lord. XO