As it has always been, and will always be (unless You make some significant geographical changes, Lord), yesterday was hard.

The days when I have to leave those little children to return to my real life have become some of my most tortured. It feels like a literal tearing away, and because Lilli doesn’t understand why she can’t come home with me on the plane every time I leave, she is just as tortured. It’s terrible, but it’s reality.

(Unless you make that change, Lord. I’m still holding out for You, just so you know.)

I sat in the Tampa airport, nursing my bruised heart with some hot tea, and opened up my email. I’d received a letter from a friend with whom I’m doing a little life-walking. I’d asked her a couple of questions and she’d journaled them out for me. I could tell they were enough to begin loosening up the dam of her heart, and let some stuff out that had been pent up way too long. It was easy to see that her heart was feeling tortured, too, and I wondered where the Lord would lead us as we walk together.

(Open the flood gates, Lord. Soothe her heart and help her see You.)

Eventually, we boarded. I had the middle seat, a young woman to my left, and an older woman to my right. Once airborne, I pulled out my iPad and began to read a book that I’d just started. The older woman pulled out a paperback, herself, called “Further Down the Road Less Traveled: The Unending Journey Toward Spiritual Growth.” I wondered about the gist of the book (which I’d heard of, but couldn’t place), but knew that if she was reading on that topic, her heart was searching for something more. The young gal was reaching into her bag for something, too, and pulled out a well-worn copy of the Bible. She opened it to Hosea, and began reading in earnest. Hard obedience, betrayal, trust. It’s all there in that book.

After a while, the beverage cart came by, and as I looked to the aisle, my eye went across the open page of the young woman’s journal, which had replaced the Bible without my noticing. She had it splayed open on her tray table, and she’d written the words in bold across the top of the page.

Lord, HELP MY HEART YIELD TO YOURS.

Embarrassed that I’d seen such an intimate plea (although she didn’t know it), I quickly looked back at my iPad, but I couldn’t get the words of yet another tortured heart out of my head.

It’s all about yielding, isn’t it? To find comfort in the pain of our hearts, we have to stop struggling against it and press into it, accepting the circumstances and yielding to the heart of the One who loves us. The will of His heart is our very best answer, even when we can’t make sense of why a thing has to be the way it is, or was. Just like Hosea, it’s a hard obedience, but it’s also the one that brings peace in the end.

I’m thankful for a Bigger heart that holds mine close, One from whom I can never be torn away.

(So I’m echoing that prayer, Lord. HELP MY HEART YIELD TO YOURS. Your good purpose. Your sweet peace.)

“Let not your hearts be troubled. Believe in God; believe also in me. In my Father’s house are many rooms. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, that where I am you may be also.” John 14:1-3 ESV

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make straight your paths.” Psalm 3:5 ESV