Refuge

My seven-year-old told me he thinks he has a cavity in his ear because it hurts when he pushes on it.

I think I have a cavity in my heart. It still hurts. The ache doesn't go away, though sometimes it goes missing for a few hours.

Today I furiously worked at getting the house back in order after a long weekend with hubby and children home.

After several hours of vacuuming and sorting loads of laundry, the dull ache became a loud roar and I realized that trying to create order around me was my method of coping . . . and avoiding.

There is no getting around grief. It must be gone through. Sometimes I putter around, and try to ignore it.

The result is, with no outlet, the pressure inside builds.

I see this operating in my children. They go to school, come home and do homework and play . . . and fight. And the fighting is more intense, less reasonable (if you can consider fighting over the PlayStation reasonable).

I think we all struggle with areas of pain that we either face head on or spend immense amounts of energy avoiding.

Kind of like that tooth that we worry and fuss over, but refuse to see the dentist about. The day-to-day dull ache seems less painful than an intense one hour visit.

So we limp along, not fully functioning, but not completely incapacitated. Not who we were designed to be.

The best way to face something we dread is with a friend. Reaching out when we are down puts us in a vulnerable position, but healing comes more quickly through the kindness of a friend.

Sometimes we don't know anyone who can be that safe for us. There is one Friend whose arms are always safe and loving, and who aches to wipe our tears.

I've found much comfort leaning into the refuge that is Jesus.

Comfort

I checked on the kids before heading for bed and found my strapping twelve-year-old nestled under the covers with his younger brother.

Both of them sawing logs.

He'd told me earlier that he was scared (forty-five minutes into what I'd thought was the tenth ploy to stay up a little later). I hugged him and offered a brief prayer of comfort, but my heart wasn't into it.

My heart was already lusting for the warm bubble bath and pint of Ben and Jerry's that was waiting.

We moms get so weary by the end of the day that it's easy to miss a sincere need in the mine field of wants we navigate daily.

But my son had a need and he figured out a way to get it taken care of. All he needed was a warm body mere inches away to feel safe. Didn't matter that it was the brother he'd threatened to knock the eye teeth out of the day before.

When we have a need, do we go to the One who knows us so well? The One who hears our intimate thoughts?

He is comfort without measure, a mere breath away.