Litany of Lament

This was written the day before we saw my mother-in-law for the last time on this earth. She was a remarkable woman whom I hope to honor more specifically in a future post. Please pray for our family as we navigate the extra challenges of pandemic grief and participate to the extent we're able in her memorial service at 1 pm (Central Time) on Saturday, July 17. If you care to join us in celebrating this godly woman, you are welcome to watch the live stream at https://www.oakwoodnb.com.

My mother-in-law is dying,

Not on my shoulders, but in Your hands;

Her busy hands unnaturally still,

Not on my shoulders, but in Your hands;

Her final hours ticking past,

Not on my shoulders, but in Your hands.

 

The pandemic rages on around the world,

Not on my shoulders, but in Your hands;

Striking and fragmenting even the manner of our grief,

Not on my shoulders, but in Your hands;

Robbing the bereaved of the consolation of embracing arms,

Not on my shoulders, but in Your hands.

 

Loved ones in crisis overwhelm me,

Not on my shoulders, but in Your hands;

And I hide myself in my tear closet,

Not on my shoulders, but in Your hands;

To pour out wordless prayers into Your bottle,

Not on my shoulders, but in Your hands;

Sobbing out the pain and grief and isolation,

Not on my shoulders, but in Your hands;

The helplessness,

Not on my shoulders, but in Your hands.

I weep for the grief, and the grief upon grief,

Not on my shoulders, but in Your hands;

Of the cost and complications wrought by my frailty

Not on my shoulders, but in Your hands;

And the way my threadbare tent disappoints us,

Not on my shoulders, but in Your hands;

When it matters most,

Not on my shoulders, but in Your hands.

 

How long, O Lord? When will You make haste over the hills and come to me?

Not on my shoulders, but in Your hands.

Strengthen me to bear up under the crashing of Your waves and billows;

Not on my shoulders, but in Your hands.

Come to me quickly, Lord. When will You comfort me?

Not on my shoulders, but in Your hands.

Quieten my soul with Your nearness,

Not on my shoulders, but in Your hands;

Your nearness You promise to the broken hearts and shattered spirits,

Not on my shoulders, but in Your hands.

 

Our Father, who art in heaven,

Not on my shoulders, but in Your hands;

Hallowed be our pain,

Not on my shoulders, but in Your hands;

Invaded by Your goodness,

Not on my shoulders, but in Your hands;

Glorified by Your grace,

Not on my shoulders, but in Your hands.

 

Make of our sorrow a thin place,

Not on my shoulders, but in Your hands;

A tabernacle where Your golden glory shines out,

Not on my shoulders, but in Your hands.

In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit,

Not on my shoulders, but in Your hands;

Amen.