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to grant to those who mourn in Zion—
to give them a beautiful headdress instead of ashes,
the oil of gladness instead of mourning,
the garment of praise instead of a faint spirit;
that they may be called oaks of righteousness,
the planting of the Lord, that he may be glorified.
Isaiah 61:3 (ESV)

At last the evening had arrived.

Before being widowed I had simply looked forward to this time of praise and worship and great Bible teaching. One of my (our) favorite ministers was in town for a one night only meeting. Now I looked forward to it like a drowning person looks for a lifeguard. There would be friends there that I had not seen since last year’s conference. Mature, spiritual people that had stood with me in prayer, called me, kept in touch over the last six weekssince my husband moved to heaven.

Driving to the meeting, I began to feel hesitant. I simply dismissed it as “I want to do a good job” kind of butterflies. Arriving at the chapel, I found a parking spot and made my way up the walk looking for the volunteer entrance. Those butterflies were beginning to turn into bats.

Naturally I had volunteered to help. We always did it together. Sometimes ushering, sometimes the book table, sometimes the prayer line. Tonight, I was simply ushering and just glad to be there.

I got my name tag and welcome pamphlets and walked into the auditorium, and WHAM!

It hit me like a ton of bricks. Grief, sadness, shock…I was doing this alone!

It became almost hard to breathe. Where was the guy who was always, quite literally at my right hand at these events? It was almost a physical sensation of ‘Where is half of my body?’

“Whoa, God, I need help, please, fast!”

Moving ahead, I just pushed through the shock and smiled, helped people find seats. I felt like a robot, but at least I could do it.

Praise and worship music began to fill the auditorium. People were still streaming in, so I wasn’t totally aware of what the songs were.

Just do your job, Gwen. Smile and be friendly. Help people get settled.

Soon almost all the seats were taken, and latecomers had slowed to a trickle. Now I could pay attention to the music. A familiar song began to soar over the crowd with people joining in joyously. Click the link to hear a song I had sung many times before and truly enjoyed.

Now I heard it with new ears.

This was no accident that this song was being played. The Holy Spirit had wanted this song tonight, showing me gently that I, too had a part to play in this healing I needed so deeply.

I had a decision to make. Would I give the pain and the hurt to Jesus? Would I lay it down at His feet and believe Him for restoration in my life? Would I let Jesus and His Word be Lord instead of my feelings?

Slipping to the back I stood behind a column where I wouldn’t be seen. Bowing my head in prayer, I went to the Lord. In my mind’s eye I saw myself standing in front of Him, and I put my hands on my heart and pulled out the hurt, the pain, the hopelessness and I put the mess in His hands.

Something happened.

As I came back out from behind the column, I realized not only was I more peaceful, but I was literally standing straighter. The spark of hope that He had ignited was even lifting me up physically. It was a step, a baby step, but a step nevertheless.

Has it been okey-dokey, blue skies and sunshine since then? No, not at all. Yet now when the deep grief tries to come ,I lift my hand and tell the Lord “Here, this belongs to You”, and invariably it begins to melt away and His presence washes over the wounds bringing more peace each time.

Isaiah 61:3 tells us that He will “grant to those who mourn in Zion, giving them beauty for ashes, the oil of gladness for mourning, the garment of praise instead of a spirit of heaviness”.

A Divine exchange has been offered, will I take it?
Yes, Yes, Lord Amen!