It was a view beyond all views.
My young heart could hardly take it all in. My dad had parked our 1970s family motor home he was the captain of, many steps below on a winding path where our little family was now standing in holy reverence of sorts, as each of us took in the sights in our own personal way.
The Grand Canyon.
Rugged beyond rugged, far beyond far anything my young self had ever experienced. My little heart beat with an anxiousness beyond anxiousness as the black metal railing was the only thing that separated where I stood, from a vast world so far, so wide, so unknown, so breath taking. My eyes wanted to see everything all at once it seemed, and the further my eyes could focus, the further I wanted to see.
I leaned my young self as far to the right as I could, then as far to the left as I could, and then, straight ahead as far as I could. I even turned myself around to take in the awe inspiring 360 vast view that seemed to never ever stop .
Yet, as much as I could see all of this vast expanse around me, nothing was as solid, real solid, as my little hands wrapped vulnerably and oh so tightly around the black railing in front of me.
That was my place of certainty; solid, when I would lose sight of where my mind, my thoughts would wander the depths of the canyon as I looked down into the unknown ruggedness formed so long ago.
What was I grasping on to now as the view of my deep Canyon of grieving was seeking to overturn my heart??
Where was my steady black railing now?? Nothing looked the same, sounded the same, felt the same…. life would be forever different. Nothing could change that…. nothing was the same.
My mind traveled back in a moment. Oh how my young fingers had gripped that anchored black railing so many seasons ago now, protecting me from the depths of that canyon, the seemingly endless rock and danger lurking just beyond the jet black railing.
It had been 225 days.
The hands of time had seemed to spin out of control as if all were a million years ago… and yet had seemed to stand still all at the same time. The tide flowing and ebbing in my heart seemed to have a rhythm, and yet some days no rhythm at all.
The aroma and sight of a freshly baked blueberry platz, or the first smell of her summer time soups, penetrating the air caused the methodic tide to shift… and the waters seemed to wash over my head and stay a bit longer some moments than others.
She was still here.
Sometimes the view seemed to wash over my heart of things seen and unseen things remembered, and things revealed all at once it seemed. This earth was not her home any longer… yet the twinkle in the smile in my brand new grandbaby’s eyes felt as if she was still here….
My well worn journals over the many decades were dotted with verses I had searched when wading through life’s canyons.
One such verse stood out above the rest as it painted a comforting picture in my heart.
“…. HE WILL UPHOLD YOU WITH HIS RIGHTEOUS RIGHT HAND” -Isaiah 4:10
Now instead of me gripping the Grand Canyon solid black railing, I gained a picture of my Jesus upholding me with His righteous right hand. Not my strength, but HIS… reaching out to me.
I could rest my weary grip and let Him uphold me, to keep from falling… give support. Oh how I needed to keep from falling…
The journey on this planet can have us endure heart aches deeper than the depths of the Grand canyon’s. Yet when we choose to believe His promise He will uphold us, we can let our hearts and our minds rest when the canyon of grief seems too vast.
Let Him keep you from falling… rest in Him. His strong grip on me with His righteous right hand held me tight as the depths of the canyons of life threatened to swallow me at times.
He promises to do the same for you. There is healing in His righteous right hand.
He will NOT let go…
loosen your grip.