It's been storming and raining in Knoxville for the last several days.
It's exactly how I've been feeling on the inside.
As I drove through the downpour Wednesday, I said out loud: "God, these are like your tears. Thanks for commiserating with me."
My uncle, my dad's younger brother, died in Nigeria on Tuesday. My heart especially hurts for my 88-year-old grandma. It seems so wrong when parents have to bury their children.
Then on Wednesday, my old New York City pastor David Wilkerson died in a car crash. Interestingly enough, he wrote one final blog post Wednesday.
I love that the Bible reminds us that God is very near and present in the midst of our experiences and mess.
I love that He's not caught off guard as we are.
And I love Psalm 56:8, which reminds me that God sees. "You have kept count of my tossings; put my tears in your bottle. Are they not in your book?"
This week has been such a sobering reminder about the brevity of life and the importance of living purposefully.
By the way, to add what seems like insult to injury, I finally checked out my car this morning and saw that last night's hail had left me little dent surprises.
God is STILL good.