His wings' shadows

Everything got torn down when Leonard went home.  And I mean everything.  Not one single portion of my life wasn't touched and altered.  (I avoid the word "destroyed" since I long for a perspective on this that doesn't enact the vision of natural disaster relief.)  My bank account changed. The place where we store our car keys changed.  The way the pillows in my bed look changed.  The laundry changed.  Our Sunday night activities changed.  Our television habits changed.  The use of toothpaste and towels in the bathroom changed.  THIS CHANGED EVERYTHING.

There is no place that didn't change.  And with the destruction (see, I can't avoid the word!) of all parts of our life, so are my islands of refuge all gone.  The comfort of jumping on his lap after a hard day is gone.  The peace of sitting with him at church is gone.  The intimacy of reviewing hopes and dreams with my head propped up on an elbow is gone.  IT IS ALL GONE.

But the crazy thing is, I still have refuge.  As the storm rages, I'm not left to endure it wet with rain.  And the Lord taught me this through the eloquence of Psalms.  The phrase, "In the shadow of His wings" gave me a better visual picture of this tsunami in my life.  The Lord would offer His wings to me.  And wings can travel.  The bird of his comfort could find me anywhere.  I didn't need nor would I have my old places of refuge.  But the Lord found my heartbroken soul out in the worst storm humanity would ever endure (or at least that how it feels to me).

So right now, I find refuge from this deluge under His all capable wing.