The Pacific Northwest has cloudy days.  Just a week ago, we were gearing up for hot days near ninety. Though we’re surprised, it is normal for the clouds to return.

Sometimes in life, we experience  clouds.

Your clouds might be an illness, depression–from unknown sources, a dream has been crushed: perhaps a home you wanted to buy, you thought was perfect for your family but the price was out of your reach. Your son or daughter has chosen a life style that would not be your choice. It could be a bigger loss: someone has died that you loved like crazy. You know they’re in heaven and everyone’s telling you they’re in a better place—-but they aren’t here, with you.

When each of my  husbands died, it was smack dab in the middle of winter. But I knew spring was coming. And it helped to see new buds on the trees, hear the birds sing to each other, watch the crocus and flowering trees begin to bloom.

It just seemed better though I still missed my beloved.

I can tell you this: it does get better. But it takes time. And work–grief work. God could heal our hurts immediately, but for the most part, He takes His time in our healing. I don’t know why, but I know it’s the best. I remember reading a little book on grief and one phrase stands out to me. It says:

the only cure for grief is to grieve.

I hate to tell you that, because like me, you’d just like it to be over. But it will happen. And alongside you is the Holy Spirit, the One God sent to you for such a time as this.

Perhaps your grief is not death, but illness. A broken relationship, career loss, forced retirement, illness of your spouse. The list could go on, but you put your loss in the blank, and you might find you need the grief to be cured.

The sun will come out again. I look at the forecast and next week, Wednesday, according to their predictions, the sun will return. In the meantime, do your grieving. And when the sun comes out–figuratively and literally. You can smile and enjoy the sun.

I like what the Psalm says–my go-to when I’m down:

I think we should learn from the birds. Right now, though it is cloudy and blustery, I can hear the birds chattering together. They aren’t afraid of the clouds. Perhaps they know, the sun will come out soon.

One more photo:

Horatio Spafford knew grief. His four daughters perished in a ship wreck. He wrote those words as he passed over the spot where they were lost.

The sorrows will roll, but I hope you can say the words he wrote: It is well with my soul.