I wasn't sure where to go from here. I suppose even the suffering books and laments must come to an end, no mater my wishing for more. I wanted to be intentional with the book I move on to. Random selection seemed wrong. I decided to go back to the Beginning. In a way, we're learning to begin anew and I thought, "why not?".
Whew. I'd encourage you to read Genesis 1 before going further. I didn't get past verse 2 without finding comfort. (Isn't that so like God?) At the very beginning the Spirit of God was present in the emptiness, the darkness. And He is here in ours as well. The word for Spirit can also mean breath. The breath of God hovered over the darkness. The darkness may seem useless, but God's presence, His voice, His breath? It breathes purpose and meaning into the void, the desolation, darkness, and the emptiness. He's hovering here. In my darkness. In yours.
I inch a little further into verses 3-5. With that same breath He spoke light into the darkness. He separated the two: light and dark. He brought morning! There are always nights, and He is sovereign over those as well. The nights are followed by mourning- yes, mourning. Mine is. It's oft hard to tell when night ends and morning begins with the edges of each bleeding upon the other. Yet, morning will always come. Even if our mornings come with less pomp and glare and are seemingly muted with foggy mists and gray clouds- they're still coming.
Day two came. God was still there, still working. There was a separation that made way for all else God had planned. He's still working in our "separation". We can't yet see or imagine the days ahead, but He's got beauty prepared. Beauty that will eventually take our breathe away in an even greater magnitude than grief ever has or ever will. 
I venture on into verses 9-10 of dry ground and seas. Organization and boundaries are laid on this day. There is the preparation of earth for life. His voice called forth dry ground from the seas. Lands may have drought and fire. Seas have storms and gales. The waves of the sea batter the shores, softening edges and molding shape. Both land and sea also will soon hold life, as well as receive it. Knowing all that is to come in Chapter 3 He still calls it "good". The soil is being prepped for more. Day three holds so much more.
I think I'll venture more into Day 3 another time, tomorrow perhaps. I've intentionally waited until now to post this blog knowing tomorrow is the 25th. It's a heavy day for me, a bit of my darkness. But the morning of the 26th will still dawn. And He'll be there, hovering over it all.
For some the 25th is a day of celebration. There will be precious families joyously welcoming babies into their lives. There will one day be a December 25th for our family. That will be a date of conflicting emotions I'm sure. Celebrating birth, grieving death. For now all 25ths screams loss. I'm holding on to hope that in time it will gently whisper, then eventually one day joyfully exclaim, "Today is the day! Today is the day of Abigail's heavenly birthday: the day she looked into the eyes of her Father for the first time, knew nothing but love, and knew she was home." For now each 25th is a wave shaping the shores of our life. The waves are heavy and strong. The crevices are sharp, but we hold out for the days of gentle waves, lapping soft upon the sand. There's always morning. And He calls it good. One day I will too.
Beautiful!❤️
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