There are moments when you hear something that’s strikes you to the core forever. I just found out that my old friend is in a homosexual relationship. Sometimes writing things down helps me to grasp what is going on…this isn’t one of those times. I’ve known for two weeks now and I still can’t hold it in my hands and turn it around and around to try to figure it out. There’s a new vulnerable spot to be pricked at. Whenever I hear the word ‘lesbian’ I will remember and feel that piece of my heart cringe and heave up-and-down, in-and-out in a different sort of pain that is only felt through the sorrow you feel for someone you hold in your heart. And when you can’t understand that pain…you can’t understand the consequences of a hurt friend…can’t understand how it finally came to where it is now…it hurts your head. Not only your heart. And writing it down doesn’t make it any clearer. It doesn’t allow me to sit back and find satisfaction in solving a problem or even just make sense of how this happened. It still aches and aches and aches. I find no relief from it. And I don’t know how her parents are making it. I can’t imagine and certainly am not envious of their feelings. This is one of those moments where I long to curl up in my beloved’s lap and let go of everything. To cry and find relief. To breath and feel the pain dash away in defeat. There are times when every hurting heart I know seems to fall into mine. I see dear ones I grew up with dangling on wires and looking for love on cliff edges. I see angry tears in the eyes of sweet young girls who are taken for granted, forgotten by those who gave birth to them and the Christians who could hold them. I see little boys without daddies. And big boys with step-fathers who grasp their spirits and throw them to the ground to be trampled. I see mothers who don’t know how to be mothers, giving away their beautiful babies. I see fathers who didn’t have fathers walking out on their wives and children. I see broken vows and broken hearts. I hear crying that isn’t comforted and see empty hands that won’t be held. I see scars on the arms of a teen girl who just wants to know she’s precious. I see boys on the streets giving themselves away in a need of respect. And in the midst of it all…and still in the midst of this chaos, anger, hurt, tears, lies, brokeness and loss I see Jesus – for where else would He be except among those He loves? I see Him holding out His arms and weeping because He calls for His children and they will not come and be comforted. I see the pain in His eyes and I can understand it and feel it with Him. I see Him and I run to Him and let Him throw His arms around me in an eternal embrace and I cry. I cry and tell Him how much I need Him. I tell Him how sad I am that all my friends and all the world is hurting and killing themselves. They are His children – why should He be holding me? I should be holding Him and listening to His sighs and groanings…but no, He is holding me and we both grieve for the lost ones and pray and call together for them to be comforted. For it is not the end for those who still breathe, crushed though they may appear. It isn’t the end for the living. There’s always hope for those who are hurting and dying.