I had been working on another post for a couple of nights now. One of how I was trying to keep pressing on. On how our community now more than ever needs one another. How there is space and time for the emotions, the processing, the grieving.
But then, I took a quick moment to scroll through instagram and suddenly, my words seemed inadequate, my thoughts on how I am personally doing seemed meaningless.
I didn’t lose anything in the firestorm that raged through our community. But I know many that did. I have heard countless stories of people having only minutes to escape the flames as they blazed through their neighborhoods, destroying memories and comforts and normalcy.
As I read my friend’s post I realized I don’t have the words of comfort to speak. I don’t have the same story as those that lost everything, and I cannot fully understand the emotions their are experiencing. What I realized more tonight is that I need to be there for those that did, to listen, to pray, to support. Those that are grieving, whose entire world changed in the matter of minutes. Their lives are in complete upheaval. Their families have been removed from the stability and comfort of a home to call their own and maybe don’t even yet have a place to call “home”. I can offer the comfort I have received through God, to be there for these beautiful people as they figure out their next step, as they continue to process and grieve.
Once again, I find my heart breaking for my friends. I find the tears welling up inside of me and here to stay for awhile.
I find myself going back to all the verses of hope. Because really, at the end of the day our hope is what brings pulls us through. The hope that came in the form of a Man. The hope that is an anchor to my soul. My hope in Christ alone.