Grief is a fickle thing.
It's funny how it leaves you for a bit, and you become unguarded, and merrily roll along and then WALLOP, up side the head it comes. Maybe you noticed the date, maybe you smelled a familiar scent, maybe you didn't do anything except suddenly start bawling at this thing or that for no apparent reason. No... just a cat hair in my eye. No... just allergies of some sort. No... Christians shouldn't be so sensitive, you're right. And you wonder what on earth has gotten into you. It's not hormones... not time to PMS or ovulate... and WHAM it hits you. You still miss them. Achingly so. How can your heart contain it? Why doesn't it just burst and dissipate into nothingness like a vapor? You want to run to them for comfort, but they aren't there to comfort you. You want to run away, but there is no where to go that grief won't find you.. walloping you and whamming you relentlessly like waves. Except. In the arms of Jesus. The Steadfast Love of the L
