severe mercy

“long years before I even knew Davy, my dog, Polly, was struck by a car. The vet said no hope, paralyzed hind quarters, and wanted to put her out. But I thought that I, who loved her, must do it. I went back to Glenmerle and took Polly and my rifle and a piece of steak into the woods. She ate a bit of the steak to please me. And I stroked her and called her good dog till she went to sleep.
then I fired.
There was something about Davy’s death that was, very remotely, like that. Considering the prayers and their answers and considering the events…I cannot escape the impression that Somebody was being very gentle with us. Perhaps she had to die…and I had to live with grief. But He was, perhaps, as gentle with us both as He could be.” Sheldon Vanauken: A Severe Mercy

The past couple weeks in so many ways, have felt just that..severe…which is why when I read this passage on my flight home a couple of weeks ago, i had to keep from falling all to pieces on the plane. Moments of our life these past couple of weeks have been gut wrenching but His goodness and His gentleness have permeated everything. Truly we’ve been blessed with more mercies than we deserve.
I was asked two days ago, where I’ve seen Jesus-particularly over the past few weeks.
and this is where…

in people:
in our mother in law, who sacrificed two solid weeks of her life to come and take care of Carter while our sitter was gone. We had no idea how perfect the timing of her arrival would be. In our Father in Law, who made the drive from IN to TN four times. In my husband, who played the roll of mommy and daddy while I was gone-who has been tender and kind with me and who’s listened for endless hours to the same stories, the same questions, the same tears. In our friends who in a thousand ways have loved us well. In my aunts and cousins who answer every phone call and email; who go with us emotionally even when they can’t go physically. In my beautiful, perfect brand new nephew Bennett. His arrival was unexpected and early but he’s home and well, and we are smitten. In my brother: in his presence, his tears, his strength, his faith, his peace. In my dad-who we haven’t seen since last August but who’s been under our roof the past two nights. His presence, still somehow, is one of my greatest comforts. Life has felt blissfully normal while he’s been here.

In Him plus nothing else.
Thankfully, it’s even deeper then that. His gentleness in the goodness and love of friends has been comforting but it’s been the experience of Him that gives depth, hope and purpose to each day-no matter how severe. I’ve experienced a new kind of longing; I’ve prayed with every bit of my heart engaged; the real kind of prayers that well up from the deepest parts of us. I’ve sang my guts out on the way to work and felt Him as we’ve laid in the quiet dark, waiting for sleep to descend. In retrospect, even though i didn’t see Him then, I see Him now: sitting with us in Arizona-beside me on the plane-close to my mom in her hospital room when we were miles and miles away-with my brother, alone in a hospital corridor. If it’s the painful parts of life that make us cry out for Him, and give new, purposed life to apathetic dead hearts then I’m thankful.

Because for a while, I forgot that the only thing in this life that matters is that I’m His. His daughter.
and He’s gentle and good…and not going anywhere.

“I cannot escape the impression (that in every circumstance-past, present–and what will be) Somebody was being very gentle with us.”

A severe mercy.

A few pictures of tangible goodness from the past few weeks.
“eating poppa’s face”