Desolate

Restore, my dear Savior,
The light of thy face;
They soul-cheering comfort impart;
And let the sweet longing
For they holy place
Bring hope to my desolate heart.
~William W. Phelps, "Reedemer of Israel", v. 5

I don't know why it is that the words of many hymns are rarely sung. On Sunday only the first four verses of "Reedemer of Israel" were sung to close the church meeting. As the voices quieted and heads were bowing for prayer, I irreverently looked at the bottom of the page. I couldn't concentrate on the prayer at all, reading those words which instantly became my own private prayer.

Desolate. Desperate maybe even. Last week I lost it as so many Lego pieces were strewn throughout the house, some so tiny they were buried in the carpet out of sight. I went from room to room trying to find them all, bring all the pieces back together into a pile. But I couldn't even know if I could find them all, and even if I could, I didn't know at all how to piece them back together to form the structure they had been. My mind and heart were too familiar with this scene. It is how I've struggled these last months and years, trying to make something out of the shattered tiny fragments of a broken heart.

Sometimes I think about this scripture:

I will not leave you comfortless: I will come to you.
~John 14: 18

Sometimes I feel so comfortless. I wonder and contemplate about God's promises. Are they sure?

In hope of eternal life, which God, that cannot lie, promised before the world began;
~ Titus 1: 2, emphasis added

Does God lie? I felt so lied to. I believed that it was an impression from the Spirit that Bridget would be a special needs child. Was it? Did I only misunderstand, and the Spirit did reveal this to me to prepare me for the week at the hospital? Did the Spirit try to prepare me, one step at a time, for the impossible for my heart to accept? Or was I just deceived? Perhaps it was only a silly thought that I had convinced myself of being meaningful for some strange reason.

I don't know. I tire so much of thinking of these and other questions. I'm so weary of it all. I want to give up and just wander away and never look back sometimes. But even the idea of wandering seems too much energy for me to undertake.

I just simply miss my kids. I really miss Dominic and Bridget. I don't understand any of it and I want to, but I don't. I hate feeling so inadequate. Powerless. Comfortless.

I don't mean to discount the tender mercies I've had. The kindnesses offered. When I do begin to wonder if His promises are sure, I realize that it is in these small things that happen every day that I can still move forward. It is a reminder to me, as well, not to give up. That even when it seems I'm not making much of a difference in this world, perhaps it is in a very small way that I can have an influence of good.

Wherefore, be not weary in well-doing, for ye are laying the foundation of a great work. And out of small things proceedeth that which is great.
~Doctrine & Covenants 64:33