Well of Longing

I heard Blake Shelton sing "Home" over my radio, the other day, and--even though I'd heard the song many times before, and even though I'd felt happy enough just moments earlier--my eyes welled up. What a powerful song to elicit emotion, like that! Everytime I hear it, I remember what longing feels like: longing for a better and brighter day; longing for home; longing for loved ones who've slipped away; longing for love, itself.

"Home" brings back memories of my eyes meeting Jim's face for the first time in over eleven years. I remember our flood of words, my relief in feeling--for the first time in so long--completely accepted, cherished, understood. I remember feeling like I'd found home in another person: someone who spoke my same language.

I remember wanting to rewind and redo. Or fast-forward to a time of Jim's and my living in the same town, in the same state. Something else: not the now. I couldn't fathom how--knowing what Jim and I knew and feeling what we felt--we might climb into our pick-up trucks and drive away in opposite directions. How to stay afloat in such a deep well of longing?

I'm so thankful, now, for that bittersweet time. I return often to it, in my mind. I don't want to forget my longing for Jim's promise and presence: in short, for exactly what I have, today.

Pastor David preached out of Psalms, this morning. (Psalmist) David's longing for God--as expressed in 63:1 and 42:1-2--stood out to me, from the sermon. My flesh longs for You in this place void of water. My soul pants and thirsts after You.* Pastor David also sent us to Matthew 5:6 of the Beatitudes: "Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst after righteousness: for they shall be filled" (KJV).

So it comes to me: as hard as I fight to remember life without Jim (and each of my children, for that matter), I should fight even harder to remember life without Father God. My relationship with Him matters very most, and--if I long for Him--He will bless and fill me.

*all paraphrasing mine