Today is Greg's birthday. He would have been 44 years old.
My knees are weak. It's hard to breathe. The tears never stop. I try to cry quietly - but I hear the sounds I make. They're ugly - and deep - guttural - and I can't control it. When I inhale to catch a breath, I think my chest will cave in and that will be the end. I hope so. I try not to hope so.
I have no words - no prayers left to pray. I'm empty - void.
Romans (8:26, I think) says:
“In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us through wordless groans.”
I'm staking my life on it.
My knees are weak. It's hard to breathe. The tears never stop. I try to cry quietly - but I hear the sounds I make. They're ugly - and deep - guttural - and I can't control it. When I inhale to catch a breath, I think my chest will cave in and that will be the end. I hope so. I try not to hope so.
I have no words - no prayers left to pray. I'm empty - void.
Romans (8:26, I think) says:
“In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us through wordless groans.”
I'm staking my life on it.
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