As I sit awake in this waiting room; “the holding tank for crazy people” grieving for an innocent boy who has been bound by the enemy.
Weary, trying to trust in God, yet wondering where is His presence at this moment.
A kind nurse who kneels at my side and says “I have an 11 yr old, I can’t imagine, my heart breaks for you”
A resting boy who is trying to sleep off his mistakes from earlier today.
I share this here, why?
Because I am broken, I am weary, and I am lost…..but not just for myself…..but for my baby boy who is more broken, and more weary than I.
Could I have helped him?
Was I to weak, when he needed me to be strong?
Did I miss it?
I cry out oh Lord, for our refuge is found only in you. Reach down, snatch up this boy and rescue him from this enemy inside of him.
I sit for endless hours in this waiting room….
The sweet girl offers a warm cup of coffee, and yes; if even for a moment, I find comfort in its warmth, I savor the aroma, hoping to escape this nightmare I’m in. but I can not…
Depression is real…
I know Lord, you will do great things through him, and I find just an ounce of joy in that trust.