I’m now a widow. A widow. The singularity of that word sends shock waves that wash over me with grief. Another widow says these are called ambushes. I’m just figuring out some of the triggers that envelope me with that sudden chill, contracting my chest. The chest ache is pretty much constant. Like a dull pain that is with me always. My mouth is dry. I mean paper dry. No appetite. These are the physical effects of grief I never knew about.

So it was, I would read this verse like a prayer after a dear friend, also a widow, reminded me that the Lord is now my portion. Like the promised inheritance of God’s people, He is my portion. All that is in Him is now available for my desperate needs: His comfort, His strength, His peace, His help.

He is now my cup of blessing. My cup is my lot in life and it’s God who brings blessings to my current condition. He fills that cup. I can’t expect these benefits from anywhere else. He provides what I need, and I can call on Him over and over. So, if I am to heal from this loss, it will be because the Lord brings peace and comfort. I must learn to rely on Him.

He holds my future. I know this, but when your future doesn’t look at all like you thought it would, there are choices to make. Like coming to a fork in the road. I must trust that God is good, that He’s sovereign, and that He is in control. He knows the future; I will trust Him to lead me on this new path. My foggy brain means I’ll be coming to Him again and again for the strength I need, the wisdom I must have to navigate.

In this time of rearranging banking needs, insurance transfers, car business, it is a comfort to know that I can rely on Him. I won’t lie: my cup feels pretty empty. Yet what peace to realize in the middle of the gut-punching pain that God is with me. He cares. He sees me. He knows the wordless prayers my spirit groans in the rising tides of grieving. He will fill my cup. Knowing He holds my future, I can fall back into His arms of Grace. I will make the choice to keep trusting Him Who is my portion, my cup of blessing, and the One who holds my “new” future.

∗ ∗ ∗

Lord, this is not what I expected. The shock of losing him feels unbearable. I feel like an amputee. I’m missing such a big part of me. But then I remember Who You are, Lord: My portion, my inheritance, my cup of blessing that is full of Your promises. You hold my future for all the days to come. You know the challenges of each one, yet I know You will be with me, never leaving, never abandoning me. And for that, I am thankful. I know I need to sleep, so I put myself into your keeping grace. In Jesus’ Name, Amen

End of sample · 99 more entries in the book