I’ve always found my comfort reading the Psalms, but for some reason, in this season of mourning they are the last thing I’ve turned to. In fact, I really haven’t turned there yet.
I think I’m still wrestling with God always saving David’s life, but not saving Shah. I just don’t relate. I’m doing better with the disciples who mostly all lost their lives young. I don’t want to roll my eyes at David, so I’d rather read Peter who was promised cruisifiction, not deliverance.
Beyond that, I find great comfort in books by other widows or parents who have lost children. I keep a pile beside my bed, and based on mood take a one or two everywhere I go. Some are better for hurting, some are better for confusion. Some don’t have a ton of depth, but just let me know I have company in this journey.
Yesterday, while facing a crazy weekend of alone time and too many activities at the same time, and a life without him stretching before me, I just couldn’t go hone after work so I stopped by a friend’s coffee shop.
I actually had gotten up in the middle of the night the night before searching everywhere for this book when I remembered I hadn’t seen it for a few days. It was under the couch. But as I was reading backwards, I found this comforting encouragement, “move inch by inch.”
We often hear take it one day at a time or one hour at a time, but I was struck with the fresh perspective of one inch at a time. We don’t know what the future will hold of any of us. Why worry about years that aren’t even promised? Plus, the good moments of today seem longer when traveled inch by inch. The inch in the coffee shop was great. The miles without him are terrifying. So I’m going to focus on this inch.