That there can be no worse pain or punishment than being given a Godly love and then seeing the object of that love go through agonizing heartache and pain and knowing...
Knowing that I can do nothing to help, stop, slow, prevent....
Knowing that I don't have the least iota of a shred of a scrap of a wisp of an idea of what to do to make things better....
Knowing that it was in part to my sin that my my beloved is in this pain, in this peril, in this terrible terrible personal hell.
I guess in a way, this is my personal hell... the hell of the reality of the pain my beloved is experiencing and the hell of the reality of the mirror.
There's only one thing I have to grasp on to. All things are possible to God. Our Abba Father who loves us and promises to always do so. I have His character and His heart to rest on and the hope that He will heal.
That's all I know to pray for any more. Healing. Non-specific, non-directed, non-adgenda-ed healing. Whenever I try to give direction I'm wresting away control and failing to trust and follow. Healing. I ask for healing and comfort.
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