I wonder how many times the tile of a bathroom floor has caught the tears of a mother? A mother who has stolen away from the world just long enough to let the hurts and hang ups of life escape out of her heart and soul and run down her cheeks, caught by the tile floor. The tile that offers no comfort and is as cold as hearts that cause pain. A mother who steals away into the solitude of the bathroom because she wants to keep her kids from the knowing. The knowing of the gritty reality that life hurts. And sometimes in the midst of it all, grace is hard to see. Next to impossible to feel. A mother who wants to keep her babies far from the pain, so she locks herself far from her babies.
I wonder how many mothers have visited the deceptive warmth and solitude of this isolated sanctuary. This cold, hard place that can make hope seem like a memory and faith like a bad joke.
Maybe if we would come out of our pretend sanctuary and step into the sanctity of God’s grace, and trust Him enough to bear our souls with one another a little more – maybe we wouldn’t feel so alone. Maybe we wouldn’t have so many tears spill onto the solid surfaces of our lives – the cold tiles and the cold hearts.
Maybe if we realized that our trust never belonged in anyone but Him…
No matter the maybes, the one thing that is…
we may have felt alone, but we never were, never are. And every tear that slipped from the edge of our eyes, as proof that we could no longer hold what we were trying to contain – every. single. tear. was counted. And the end returns to the beginning in the eternal truth that we were never meant to carry the weight of the world.
And that’s why we can’t. He has always known, and always been ready to exchange our yolk for His, our grace for His, our strength for His. The one question that seems to always remain – will we say yes? Will we put our hope in God? Will we make the decision to praise, while the tiles collect the tears?
“As a deer longs for streams of water, so I long for You, God. I thirst for God, the living God. When can I come and appear before God? My tears have been my food day and night, while all day long people say to me, “Where is your God? ” I remember this as I pour out my heart: how I walked with many, leading the festive procession to the house of God, with joyful and thankful shouts. Why am I so depressed? Why this turmoil within me? Put your hope in God, for I will still praise Him, my Savior and my God. I am deeply depressed; therefore I remember You from the land of Jordan and the peaks of Hermon, from Mount Mizar. Deep calls to deep in the roar of Your waterfalls; all Your breakers and Your billows have swept over me. The Lord will send His faithful love by day; His song will be with me in the night — a prayer to the God of my life. I will say to God, my rock, “Why have You forgotten me? Why must I go about in sorrow because of the enemy’s oppression? ” My adversaries taunt me, as if crushing my bones, while all day long they say to me, “Where is your God? ” Why am I so depressed? Why this turmoil within me? Put your hope in God, for I will still praise Him, my Savior and my God.”