Between the Echo and the Promise

I can still hear those words.
They no longer haunt me like they once did,
but the echoes are still tucked deep inside me—
the wailing in the background,
the moment the world tilted,
the life-altering sentence:
“Joshua is dead.”

What I didn’t know then
was how God would meet me in the years that followed.
How He would take something so earth-shattering,
and slowly breathe strength back into places
I was sure would stay broken forever.

Yesterday at church, as we worshipped, something inside me stilled.
It was like God Himself was tuning into my heart,
clearing the static long enough for me to hear Him again.

The lyrics washed over me:

“My comfort, my shelter,
Tower of refuge and strength…
Forever I’ll love You,
Forever I’ll stand.
Nothing compares to the promise
I have in You.”

I saw this vivid image—
I stood before the Lord in complete awe,
my fingers gently tracing His nail-scarred hands,
pressing them softly against my cheek,
as if they were the most sacred thing
I had ever touched,
feeling both the weight of His sacrifice
and the tenderness of His love.

And in that moment,
I sensed Him standing beside me,
His arm around my shoulders, pulling me in, whispering:

“Be patient.
You will see Joshua again.
This is My promise to you.”

The reminder settled over me in a way I didn’t expect—
a promise whispered into the ache.
That ache never fully leaves,
but it’s amplified in December.

But there, in the lull of the music,
I felt Him steady me again—
lifting my face,
reminding me so gently:

“I know December hurts,
I know the sorrow you hold.
Keep looking at Me,
My promise still stands.”

And somehow…
that reminder eased something inside me.
It didn’t erase the ache,
but it softened the sharpest edges of it.

I’ve healed so much since that dreadful day—
not because time did the healing,
but because He did.
One breath at a time.
One December at a time.
One whispered promise at a time.