The name of Jesus

All I could do was pray "Jesus." When my heart was hurting, when my body was hurting, when I was too tired, when I could find no other words to utter.

"Jesus."

As I waited for the actual miscarriage to happen, I woke often in the night out of fear, anticipation, confusion, and I would resolve to plan ahead, sift through my thoughts, pray for peace, but all the clarity that came was "Jesus." In the middle of the night, crying out, whispering, groaning one name.

Sometimes I wake up to one of my own children calling "Mama." Usually that's all. Just my name, until I come and find them where they are, and work to comfort them or solve their problems. Because they are too tired to come to where I am. Because they're too confused. Because they're too sick. Because they're too lonely.

Jesus does that too. When you're barely holding yourself together and don't have the strength to seek him out, He will come when you call out to him. To heal, to calm, to comfort, to grieve.

Jesus.




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