May those who sow in tears reap with shouts of joy. Those who go out weeping, bearing the seed for sowing, shall come home with shouts of joy, carrying their sheaves.
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In the course of my work as a pastor, I have been in a position to witness the raw grief that pours out of broken hearts. All attention is on the dying one until the last life breath is taken and then the attention shifts woefully to the one who is bleeding out, emptied, living but just barely. When the tables are turned and joy comes, I will be among those running to greet God, but I suspect I will stop in my tracks and hold the door for those who have known the deep grief of loss in their lives. I know my joy will come but who among us would prolong another's grief for a second if we could help it.
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Holy God, I long for the harvest of joy that you have planted for your people. 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: