Welcome to Soli Deo Gloria. This is a place to share what is on your mind. It is a place where vulnerability is accepted, where heart cries are honored, where struggles are heard. It is a place where we are unconcerned with the quality of your words, but about the state of your heart. We are a community of women that seek to encourage, support, love each other with our words. There is laughter. There are tears. There is everything in between. No matter where you are, who you are, where you have been, I want you to know that you are in the fold and that as you leave your link, you are prayed for. Desire more information? Please click here for the full scoop.
This is a growing community (Thank you, Jesus!), so please don't feel that you have to visit every single person that links up. We are all on a time budget. That being said, I do invite you to pray and ask God which blogs to visit simply because there may be words for you left in that place or words that God has given you to share to those specific people. And, while you are there, as you write in the comments of another's blog, would you offer up a prayer for them? (If you would like to be on the email list for reminders and the occasional prayer request, please let me know in the comments.)
Putting on our backpacks, heading out the door, I hear her say softly:
I wish Grannie was here to see me go to Kindergarten.
And I wonder, did I let something slip? Or does she just intrinsically feel my grief? Or is she really just that bonded to the great-grandmother that held her close at every chance she had?
And we go to school and there are no tears, just a hand clasped tightly to her daddy's. She puts on a brave face, finds her cubby, and sits down in her chair, ready to color the happy frog laid out on her desk.
I make it home, go for a run. I absorb the silence of the empty house upon my return, but I'm not as happy as I thought I would be. There's a hole, an emptiness that I'm not yet certain how to fill. I'm locked into this place of unknown identity and I find myself grasping at all things tangible just so I can hold it together.
As I sit outside with my bowl of cereal, my phone begins to ring and in the span of 30 minutes, my world is crashed by new waves of grief. My friend's husband, who was a mere 49 years old, has died of a massive heart attack. And, my other friend calls. Her grandmother has just slipped into a coma and she knows the end is near.
It's almost so much that my heart swells with the enormity of their grief and of my own and I compile it with the state of our nation, the dryness of our land, and I cannot even cry because I'm just too
overwhelmed by it all.
Where are You?
I go to the bathroom in which I am about to start cleaning and there is the bracelet that I received only a week or so ago. It's the bracelet that reads, "God is Big Enough."
And in that flesh, broken-down moment, I whisper,
And I feel so guilty for questioning, but the reality of my thoughts just escaped. And I suppose He would know them anyway, had I not said it out loud. And it's just one of those things that in the moment, my fears and my heartache seem so big that I let them dwarf my faith. I let them dwarf my God.
And I whisper, I'm sorry, but in the same breath, like a little child, I whisper...
Will You show me just how big You are? I need desperately to see You, to feel You, because I am weak and You, yes You, are strong.
And my brokenness is all I have to offer today, my friends. But it is a brokenness with hope that, yes, God is big enough.
Also linking with Shanda today...