In the days of his flesh, Jesus offered up prayers and supplications, with loud cries and tears, to the one who was able to save him from death, and he was heard because of his reverent submission.
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What makes you cry? Do you have certain triggers that immediately cause your sight to blur and your soul to burn? Years ago I had a dog who died and I haven't been able to watch a movie where a dog dies since. I become a puddle. Lots of other stuff cause the symptoms I have come to recognize. The catch in my throat that makes my words stumble. The rush of blood to my face. I suck it up. As often as possible, I hold it back because it is a vulnerability that few feel comfortable to witness. Do you extend a hand? Offer a shoulder? A tissue offered too soon becomes the white flag signaling that it is time to stop. Or do we just sit and hold the space? Holding space is excruciating. To hold space while the other suffers knowing there is little anyone can do to change the circumstances, the reality of the suffering is exhausting. Sometimes there is no consolation. Sometimes we need to sit inside someone else's pain and learn what we can from the truth of it. Jesus invites us into his tears.
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Holy God, hear my cry. Amen.
Deb Grant, resilient child of God, creative tinker of paper, ink, wood, shiny things, paint and words. The human amusement of a parrot and a dog.
Writer, poet, artist, human, citizen, learner, scruffy, goof.
Word Food by Deb is randomly published. More than weekly, less than daily at the following media sites: