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BOTTLE OF TEARS I deal with the dying each day. Offering comfort to grieving families is a part of my daily routine. The stages of grief are familiar to me. You see, I’m a hospice social worker. I am privileged to work with patients and their families at one of the most difficult times in their lives. It is always my goal to provide comfort, encouragement and offer a listening ear. Yet, this week I feel fragmented, fuzzy, out of focus. Moving at a slower pace, my mind wonders, thoughts are scattered. I’m traveling in circles, repeating myself, feeling lost. None of my family or friends have died this week, but I am in mourning. It is a grieving unlike anything I’ve ever experienced personally or professionally. Tears flow freely at 3:00 a.m. Controlled thoughts and actions dominate my responses at 3:00 p.m., but the thoughts are always there. Like a wolf pack closing in on its prey, pulling, tearing, bringing down. I turn on the radio during work breaks, rush home to catch what is happening on TV. Physically removed from the TV, my mind continues to replay the film clips at work and at home. So where is God in all of this? I cry out for peace, protection, wisdom, guidance, mercy. Frightened, saddened, angered, I grieve. Praying for the nation’s leaders, the emergency workers, the families of the victims, I hang on to God’s strength. Mine is gone. Psalm 56 (The Living Bible) is my source of strength. "Lord, have mercy on me; all day long the enemy troops press in. So many are proud to fight against me; how they long to conquer me. But when I am afraid, I will put my confidence in you. Yes, I will trust the promises of God. And since I am trusting him, what can mere man do to me? They are always twisting what I say. All their thoughts are how to harm me. They meet together to perfect their plans; they hide beside the trail, listening for my steps, waiting to kill me. They expect to get away with it. Don’t let them, Lord. In anger cast them to the ground. You have seen me tossing and turning through the night. You have collected all my tears and preserved them in your bottle! You have recorded every one in your book. The very day I call for help, the tide of battle turns. My enemies flee! This one thing I know: God is for me! I am trusting God—oh, praise his promises! I am not afraid of anything mere man can do to me! Yes, praise his promises. I will surely do what I have promised, Lord, and thank you for your help. For you have saved me from death and my feet from slipping, so that I can walk before the Lord in the land of the living."
* * * Written by Margaret A. Comstock
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