Monday, October 18, 2010


When my head hits the pillow at night, the regrets roll past like a movie I've seen over and over again.

The encouraging e-mail I meant to send but forgot.

The love I kept instead of giving away.

The walls I built to self-protect.

The moment that is forever lost.

Something I thought I had sown, something I thought was safe, but was taken away by the cares of the world.


As the movie spins around the reels in my mind, I hear Him say, "Shh. Go to sleep. Rest. I have mercies for every frame of the movie. My mercies are new every day."

I rocked my babies to sleep. I rocked them when they were too old to be rocked. I held them close as they fought sleep. I would take my hands and with the gentlest mother-stroke I could find in me, I'd brush their little eyelids down. They needed help to say good-bye to the day.

Most nights, I need help to say good-bye to the day.

I sang to those babies I held. Now, in the dark night, I sing to The One who holds me.

I reach under my pillow, where my prayer shawl has spent the day. I take it out and hold it close. The shawl itself isn't sacred. It isn't holy. It's a pile of yarn that was knitted by holy and sacred hands. Holy and sacred because each stitch was knitted in prayer. Knitted, in prayer, for an unknown woman with unknown needs.

Knitted in prayer, with faith, that God would know.

My prayer shawl reminds me that God is nearer than the dark and that He hears every prayer I offer. He hears the prayers that are whispered, as well as the prayers that are silent. Silent, because the longing or the fear, can't be described.

With my shawl in my hand, and the movie of regrets turned off, He takes His gentle hands, the ones with the scars, and brushes my eyes closed. I hear Him whisper, "Sleep. Rest. I have new mercies waiting for you when the morning comes."

Through the Lord's mercies we are not consumed,
Because His compassions fail not.
They are new every morning.
Lamentations 3:22


276. rest
277. regrets replaced with mercies
278. scarred hands
279. prayer shawls
280. the praying woman who knitted my shawl
281. being held in the dark
282. memories of rocking babies
283. the morning sun
284. time with cousins


  1. Cheri,,,
    This is so beautiful... no matter the situation... He is there,, I know I ran from Him for years myself. At the age of 42... He ask me one more time; thankfully; He ask me one more time, I repeat that because He had called me 7 times and I didn't get it... I praise Him and Thank Him for being so Merciful... God through Jesus is the one and only way... Thank you for sharing... GOD is so good.
    Carol McLeod Mixon

  2. At this season of my life there is no one whose praise for the Lord I love to hear more than yours. I missed you for a few days and worried about you. I'm so glad you're back.

  3. I found you over at Ann's, and I'm so glad I did. Your words are beautiful, and so your story--it seems those born in grief are the sweetest. You are welcome to come visit at SweetWaterBueSky anytime.

    Many blessings to you, Friend. :)