Once everyone stopped coming around…..my loss for my son didn’t stop. I close my eyes and imagine the sun going down. Panic sets in. I feel like I should be looking for him. Trying to find him. Then I realize I did. And I was too late that day. He was gone. I failed to protect my child. And I try to sleep. Instead I soak my pillow with my tears. No one hears my heart’s cry. I ask God why. I listen to the advice of friends. Their words of sympathy. They quote scripture and condolences. The few who remain and follow. But mostly this is a battle you fight alone. The world around is full of get and gain. Hustle and bustle. But I stand in my mind’s eye and wait on God’s still small voice to answer me. I wait for the sun to rise to end the long night. My pillow is soaked with my tears. The God of Saturday night comforts me not the god of this world. The God of Saturday night is the one who feels the cross, feels my pain, knows my anguish, is real to my needs. The god of this world is neatly packaged and promises a life of no trouble if you just follow him. The God of Saturday night says He will be with me in my troubles not a life free of heartaches. I like the God who is real not the god of this world.
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