He Hears the Broken

She ran out of the prayer gathering and  heaved back a sob.  The room was dark and she thought that no one would notice.  I felt the weight she carried on her shoulders and lowered my raised hands.  While deep into the prayer I was stirred.  

When a young heart breaks I can hear it.  I walked out quietly and unnoticed.  Just like she did.  I wandered out into the parking lot of the empty church and tried to look for her on the empty benches of the courtyard.  She wasn't there.  

I could hear her silent weeping.  Muffled cries she didn't want anybody to hear.  I went back inside the hall and asked a friend to join me to look for her.  We found her in the empty pews of the darkened chapel.  She sat near the tabernacle as if wanting to just be near her Savior's feet.  

I tapped her shoulder and whispered to ask if she was okay.  She smiled shy and quiet.  I sat beside her and asked again.  She spoke of an emptiness she cannot name.  A missing piece of a puzzle she cannot find.  And she wrestles with it because it doesn't make sense.  I watch her gaze up on to the cross and squinted at the dim lights.  I told her softly, "It's okay.  You don't have to fix anything.  Tonight you just have to rest in His arms.  Lay down the weight and rest." She is quiet when she weeps.  And her pain is slow and shy.  She holds back in releasing but tears escape her eyes and runs down her cheeks.

When a young heart breaks I can hear it.  And I ask the Savior to catch the teardrops in His hand.  I cannot change her circumstances.  I cannot fix what is broken.  But I can sit with her until she is ready to stand up again.  

I find myself thinking about this moment before I end the day.  I suppose it is much of a reminder for me as much as it has been for her.  That God does seek out those who are lost and He doesn't ask us to explain why we are broken.  He just holds us and says, "It's okay. I hold your heart in mine." 

Tonight I pray for all the young people who do not know their way.  Unsure of their path.  Silent in their aching.  It was not too long ago when I was one of them.  Their confusion is just as familiar.  Then again, I know that we are not alone and Savior keeps watch into this night.  He makes us lie down in pastures of green and quiets our restless souls. 

It is day 13th of Awaken and this is the gift of community.  To weep with those who weep.  And this is the hard eucharisteo.

That which seems evil, is it a cloud to bring rain, to bring a greater good to the whole of the world?  Who would ever know the greater graces of comfort and perseverance, mercy and forgiveness, patience and courage, if no shadows fell over a life?  (Ann Voskamp, One Thousand Gifts)