This One Is Just For Me

I wanted to be that sort of a somebody, that type of writer who is brave enough to sit with you in your pain.  To taste the bitter of tears falling, to taste the pain and stay on with you anyway.  I had wanted to be brave enough to sit with you through your pain.

To write in a way that holds your hand on the hardest of days.

I wanted to be that type of person, that sort of writer.

He was.  And He ever is.  And a day.

So, I pushed through.  I  thrust out my hand and grabbed yours and I held on tight.  I held on for dear life.  And the pain was real, the pain was palpable.  But, as the taste of terrible lingered on my tongue, I tasted the bitter and began to so desperately long for the sweet.  And as the terrible lingered long on my tongue I let loose just slightly.  Ever so slightly.  As the pain stayed on, I felt it slide through pores, pouring pain palpable.  On me.  And my grip slacked just slightly once more.

I wanted to be brave enough, to write courage into the pain and push it back, that palpable pain.  I wanted to be that type of person.

He was.  And He is, forever and a day.

But, the taste of bitter lingered terribly long and my hand grew weary under the palpable pain.  I began to look for the way, the way out.  To let go and leave you while you lingered, laboured under the pain.  It was terribly reasonable, all too reasonable — at least I had come for a time, at least I had lingered for awhile.  Sounding so reasonable.

I had wanted to be that type of a person.  He was, He is now into eternity.

But, under the pain I had buckled and withered away.  And under the withering I slowly let go.  Slipped hand away.  Disentangled fingers, slightly and so quietly slipped my palm from your pain.

I had wanted to be brave enough to sit and hold your hand while you wept.  To whisper words of sweet story to sing you to rest.  But, under the lingering labour of placing hand on palpable pain — I faltered and I walked away.

So, here on these pages, do you hear my pain?  I had wanted and then faltered.  I had wanted to be brave, like Him.  But, I faltered under the pressing of your ever present, palpable pain.

Today, I stand back and look back.  What was it?  What should I have done?  Never thrust my hand into your place of pain?  Left you alone, ever alone in your pressing pain?

Perfect Father is Bravery, Courage.  Into the face of danger, under the crushing, pressing pain of humanity He walks willingly in and stays on, sits on and hand never slips away.

So, why had I faltered so fast?  Should I never have tried, never attempted?  Am I void of any stories to sing at your side?



As I stand and look back, I often just see two — me and you.  I sat by your side, I wanted to be brave — for you.  For me.  I held on into your pain — I oh, so wanted to be brave.  But, as I look back I see just two — me and you.  And now I see, that was never as He intended it to be, it was always meant to be three.

Maybe, just maybe I had wanted to be brave, to sit in your palpable pain, to bear the terrible load.  But maybe, just maybe in my pressing need to bear your pain, I had held to tightly and caused my own slipping away.

It was never my burden to carry you through your pain, it was always my task to slip your hand into His.  To sing a story of His telling song, His sweet melody.

It was too often only two — just me and you.  It was not as He intended it to be — it was always meant to be three.

I faltered and floundered, for I forgot my stories are always suppose to be sung as just a simple, yet eternally sweet introduction.

I am sorry I did not know or maybe my pride caused me to purposefully forget.  Misplace what I knew — it was never suppose to just be me and you.

I am terribly sorry I sang a story song that supposed I could be brave, when what you really needed was to be near the One that is eternally brave.

I do see now.   All of life, all of love — what it is and must be, is us three, you and me and forever and always He, into eternity.


But, He is gracious and oh, so long suffering with me.  He allows me to sing another story song.  A song of simple, sweet introduction and He gently grabs our hand and holds on through pain and He sits and stays on forever and a day.