I have 3 pillows.
Not because I like a lot of pillows. And they are actually in different places.
It’s because at any given point in the night, I could end up needing to relocate. If Mason wakes up to pee, he won’t go back to his bed by himself, so I lay down in his bed. This could pose a problem if Clint is squirming in his crib. If he sees me come in the room (they share one), my return to dreamland will certainly be pushed back further, so I lay Mason down in my bed beside his daddy and I head to the couch.
Tonight I’m on my second pillow. I couldn’t find rest on the first one, and obviously I can’t on the second either.
My thoughts are with my dear friend who doesn’t have any of her own pillows or other comforts tonight.
Less than 12 hours ago (feels like weeks ago) she lost many of her possessions and her dear husband in a house fire.
Definitely not what I expected Tuesday to bring.
Everyone wants to “do” something, myself included. What do you give in these situations? What do you say? How do you show love and still let the person have some breathing space?
I don’t have the answers. But here is my prayer tonight.
Make me a friend that could give up my own comforts, my own wants, to help another. Help me be ok with dropping everything I have, leaving my place of familiarity, and stepping into a role of helper that may be uncomfortable and awkward.
There’s beauty in vulnerability. There’s beauty in letting people buy you underwear and socks and toothpaste when you have lost it all.
May I not underestimate the power of presence. Help me remember that my presence means so much more if I am a reminder of God’s presence when there is nothing in my own power to help. Help me point to the Words that fill when all else is gone, when the temporary things of the world have left along with their false sense of security.
May I look to the One who heals a pain that no worldly man understands. May I point to Him in good, bad, tragedy, or celebration.
May I provide the physical things, of course, but remember that one day the food will stop giving nourishment, the shelters will be destroyed, and the clothes will not be needed. You will be the only one remaining.
May my words be few, and Your words many.