Depression colored my horizons. Looking afar, I could not see through dark billowing clouds that touched my clothing. I stumbled onward, for what was I to do other than that? Unseen potholes caused me to fall, and I wished to lie there. I desired to stop and cease my struggles. My children needed me at home and so I moved ahead one halting step at a time.
These words describe the world I lived in for several years after I lost my wife. I was forced to learn to become both a mother and a father when I had lived in a world of good cooking and order … a world only a conscientious mother and wife could make.
I remember my first attempt at making a birthday cake. I went to the store full of confidence, sure I could do what she had done. Picking up a chocolate cake mix, I read the label. It sounded easy so I purchased several boxes of cake mix and frosting. Surely I’d be a success. One or more boxes per pan must have been the way my wife did it. It seemed like a lot of cake was rising in the oven. Still I pressed on. The pans were heavy, but I wanted to impress my children. Laying out the layers of cake, I frosted them while they were hot – a mistake my wife would never have made. By the time I finished, I had a giant lopsided chocolate cake with runny icing.
Despite my cooking experience, the Lord used it to lighten my countenance and help my broken and lonely heart heal. God knows just how to heal our pain when we allow Him into our hearts.
Place your broken heart in His hands and gradually learn to laugh at yourself. He will lighten your load through humorous things.
(Photo courtesy of morguefile and MGDboston.)
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