For the first time since Azaiah died I feel like I have nothing. I have no thoughts. I have no words. I have emptiness.
I haven’t written anything in a week. I don’t know how to articulate what’s in my head. I don’t know how to speak to the anxiety in my stomach or the fog in my head. There are moments it lifts, but I feel simply blah. And I am OK with that.
Today I may simply exist. I can’t write. I have nothing.
O Lord, don’t rebuke me in your anger
or discipline me in your rage.
Have compassion on me, Lord, for I am weak.
Heal me, Lord, for my bones are in agony.
I am sick at heart.
How long, O Lord, until you restore me?
Return, O Lord, and rescue me.
Save me because of your unfailing love.
For the dead do not remember you.
Who can praise you from the grave?
I am worn out from sobbing.
All night I flood my bed with weeping,
drenching it with my tears.
My vision is blurred by grief;
my eyes are worn out because of all my enemies.
Go away, all you who do evil,
for the Lord has heard my weeping.
The Lord has heard my plea;
the Lord will answer my prayer.
May all my enemies be disgraced and terrified.
May they suddenly turn back in shame.
When I am nothing, when I have nothing, He is everything.