They are whispers of His love.
Happening amidst the chaos of the night, amidst the moments when all I hear is my own heart shouting in protest of this pain. And until I step back, I hardly know there have been whispers at all.
Like a dark cloud with only moments of sunshine, the grief still looms large over my head. If I keep my gaze down, I miss the sun all together.
“Look up, Fix your eyes on me. I am here. Whispering of my love to you in the dark places of your soul.” He gently calls.
They are whispers when I realize I’ve invested my life in another and found myself energized and not utterly exhausted. A whisper of His strength flowing out of weakness.
Whispers of His promise as I picture the day I stand in a sea of people worshipping God and imagine Sophie and Dasah running up to me. Even more joy erupts, tears of knowing all has been redeemed… and hand in hand we go find their Daddy (the earthly one) and I see him see them for the first time and we look at each other, and look at our Savior peering at the sweet reunion, and we know the truth of the words…
“For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory that is to be revealed to us.”
Will it be like that? It will be better.
They are whispers of the promise of new bodies. The resurrection of us all… to hope, to Him. And we get new bodies all together. We…. Kevin, Sophie, Dasah and I will all experience this newness together, for the first time. We don’t miss all the “firsts”.
And He whispers “You’re not missing out, there’s more, so much more coming.”
They are whispers of His love that extends to others as I find myself praying. Yes, praying, talking to God beyond the ache that often leaves my voice voiceless before Him. The few words that have formed on my lips have become a few more.
And my prayers… His prayers have begun to include others. They are whispers that His promise to bind up the brokenhearted is happening.
The gaping wound of loss is not so gaping. The scar is beginning to form, still a scar, an ugly and yet beautiful scar that shapes who I am now and who I am becoming. I realize it is the whisper of His beauty in the ashes.
And I notice joy. The whisper of His Joy breaking through when I find myself laughing with another, simply enjoying the richness of what life still offers.
Oh, joy is not the outward expression of life and happiness but the deep inner moving of the soul that once it is known, rooted, it comes out in life, in hope. It’s a glimmer, a boisterous glowing, picture of His joy. His delight. All is not lost.
And I wonder if He tells my girls the joy that’s being tasted and they roll in laughter too. They know what’s coming… MORE. Much more. And their delight in Him grows each day. And He whispers to them sweet things that I long to know in the fullness they now know. What glory.
Whispers. Is He whispering of His love for you today? Amidst the chaos of the night can you hear His still small voice… like a soft quick breeze? Don’t miss it. It’s so easy to miss when we keep our heads down, when the darkness is overwhelming. Look up. He’s always whispering…
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