Airing Wisdom

Have you ever felt that the light at the end of the tunnel is actually the next train heading straight for you?
Have you ever fallen apart at the seams?
Or felt overwhelmed by what’s happening in your life?

Does the old saying, “Trouble loves company,” ring painfully true? If so, you’re not alone.

Overwhelm is a universal experience – one many of us have encountered more times than we’d like to remember. Yet we have survived – by the grace of God we are still standing. Perhaps this verse resonates:-

The Message (MSG):

“We’ve been surrounded and battered by troubles, but we’re not demoralised; we’re not sure what to do, but we know that God knows what to do; we’ve been spiritually terrorised, but God hasn’t left our side; we’ve been thrown down, but we haven’t been broken.”
— 2 Corinthians 4:8–9.

There was a season in my life – some time ago now – when it felt like everything collapsed at once. Within the span of just ten months,

I lost both my mother and my 30-year-old sister-in-law — suddenly, without warning.
My 24-year marriage came to an end.
My father’s health took a serious turn.
A crisis erupted at work.
Financial debt loomed over me.

And as if that weren’t enough, I was pulled into the exhausting world of courtrooms, barristers, and divorce proceedings.

All the while, I was trying – and often failing – to be emotionally present for my four teenage children, who were struggling in their own ways to cope with the chaos.
It was relentless and I honestly really struggled to see a way through. At times I was in utter despair. It felt like the bottom had literally fallen out of my world – my foundations felt very unstable! These were some of my darkest days.

Yet, God was with me in all my troubles, HIs faithfulness and His grace, carried me through.

The Message (MSG):

“I’ll never forget the trouble, the utter lostness,
the taste of ashes, the poison I’ve swallowed.
I remember it all—oh, how well I remember—
the feeling of hitting the bottom.”

But there’s one other thing I remember, and remembering, I keep a grip on hope:

God’s loyal love couldn’t have run out, his merciful love couldn’t have dried up. They’re created new every morning.

How great your faithfulness! I’m sticking with God…He’s all I’ve got left” – Lamentations 3:19–24.

My experiences are not unique. Over the years, I’ve met many people who have walked through situations just as difficult – and some, even more so.

Looking back, I can now see how God was gently preparing me for what was to come. In the midst of heartache, He was demonstrating His love – forming within me a more Christ-like heart of compassion for others. That is not something I could have manufactured myself. It is the work of His grace – and His grace alone.

Traumatic experiences in life don’t always lead to healing or closure. I’ve witnessed firsthand how similar hardships have led to very different outcomes in people’s lives.

And so, I stand back from judgment when I see someone who is bitter or deeply tormented.
Because honestly – there, but for the grace of God, go I.

Without God, I truly don’t know where I’d be today.

All of these experiences had a profound effect on me.

They didn’t just shape how I cope with pain – they also changed how I notice it in others.
I’ve found myself more aware now of the quiet signs that someone’s not okay. Maybe that’s one of the strange gifts that comes from going through hard times – you become a little more tuned in to what others are carrying too.

Recently, I’ve sensed this weariness again in people I know.
Some have spoken openly; others haven’t.

Sometimes the pain we try to hide is still visible – in body language, tone of voice, or even in a quiet gaze…and we just know something is wrong.

Like the lady in church, whose husband now lies in hospice care, and barring a miracle, he won’t return home. As I walk passed her I was about to ask how she was, but noticed her eyes were reddened as she attempted to stifle her tears.
I try to offer a sympathetic glance.
Her pain is palpable. I’m lost for words but my heart aches for her, so I reach out and gently place a hand on her shoulder as I walk by, saying nothing – but praying that the gesture speaks what my words cannot.

What do you say when life seems too much?

As I prayed for her, it seemed God was saying “I see her…and I am with her in this …” and I was reminded of the story of Hagar, who was an Egyptian servant, who was banished to the desert by Sarah, who had became jealous because Hagar was pregnant with Abram’s child. Hagar found herself alone in the wilderness, in distress, feeling abandoned.

Then the “Angel of the Lord” appeared to her, offering her comfort and guidance and for the first time, someone sees her. In response, Hagar acknowledges God’s care and presence by naming Him “El Roi,” which means “The God who sees me.” It’s a profound declaration of God’s attention and compassion for all of us, even in our most difficult moments.

The Message (MSG):

“She answered God by name, praying to the God who spoke to her, ‘You’re the God who sees me!’” – Genesis 16:13

In researching the story of Hagar, and this verse in particular, I discovered that many renowned theologians have suggested that “the Angel of the Lord” who appeared in this instance was in fact the manifestation of Jesus before His incarnation. It’s a lovely thought to me that Jesus was the One who Hagar declares “sees me!”.

Jesus still sees us. Then. Now. Always.

The truth – that Jesus sees us – isn’t just a comforting idea from a distant past.
It’s something I’ve seen echoed in real life, in quiet, sacred moments with people I care about. I was reminded of that truth again recently, when I met a very close friend and asked her, “How are you?” – and she replied, “Not great, actually”…
Then, as she described the raw grief of missing her husband, taken too soon almost 8 years ago, her voice began to break and her eyes brimmed with tears. Her grief accentuated by the fact that next month he would have been retiring and life would have been so different!
She sips her coffee, tears glistening in her eyes and my words are so inadequate. What can I say? I stay. I listen. I feel it with her, I too have tears brimming over…
And maybe, just maybe, that silent solidarity is the most honest comfort I can give.

It reminds me of how Jesus responded to sorrow when he arrived to find his friend Lazarus had died – he responded, not by preaching, but by weeping with the grieving.

The Message (MSG)

“Jesus wept. The Jews said, ‘Look how deeply he loved him.’”
— John 11:35–36,

He didn’t rush to fix everything. He first entered into the sadness, the loss, the helpless ache.
And He still does. He is the Shepherd we follow – gentle, present, deeply moved by our sorrow.

And then — as if life hadn’t already said “enough” — came more loss.
More grief. More empty chairs. More tears…

A friend cancelled a catch-up because her brother-in-law died suddenly…days later, her grandmother passed away.
Another friend lost her mother.
A week later, my husband’s only brother died suddenly
One week after my brother-in-law’s funeral, my brother’s wife died unexpectedly. She had been recovering after 6 weeks of hospital treatment when a massive stroke took her life…for my brother this was the second wife he had lost to a sudden death. It all feels very unreal!

What do you do when your world is full of grief?

How do we move from despair to hope, from darkness to light?
What helps?

Let me share what has helped me

The way this worked for me was by developing a daily habit where I would set my alarm earlier than I needed to get up, make a cup of coffee, return to my bedroom and sit on a comfortable old armchair. I’d have my Bible, my journal, and some worship CDs. I loved to start this morning ‘quiet time’ of reflection listening to worship music, followed by reading the Bible, journalling my thoughts, and ending with prayer. Often, I would write the prayer in my journal, as that way I was better able to focus on communicating with God rather than letting my thoughts wander off in tangents!

I started this morning routine around the time of my marriage breakdown — many years ago now — but it has stood the test of time and has become a valuable way to draw closer to Jesus in my day-to-day life. I have found it very relaxing to do at the beginning of the day, and doing so seemed to make the day go more smoothly.

These mornings became a rhythm of peace before chaos.

As one small cushion in my room reminds me:

“A day hemmed in prayer is less likely to unravel.”

I don’t know who first said that – or stitched it onto that cushion –
but the message stuck with me. And so did the practice.

Therefore, when it all seems too much, our first step should be to turn to the Good Shepherd, the Gentle Shepherd, and tell him about everything that is weighing heavily on us.

The Message (MSG)
“I am the Good Shepherd. I know my own sheep and my own sheep know me… I put the sheep before myself, sacrificing myself if necessary.” – John 10:11–15

A word for you:

I’m not saying I have all the answers. Rather to testify that my faith has been the bedrock of my survival. Therefore, as you read this, I’d love to invite you to share what has helped you too.

Each of us copes with life’s sorrows in different ways.

Some overcome quickly.
Others struggle longer.
But I believe this:
We all have access to the Gentle Shepherd –
The One who sees, who hears, and who cares for each weary soul.

His compassion is wider and deeper than we can comprehend.
And He is still – as Isaiah wrote –

“A man of sorrows, acquainted with grief…” – Isaiah 53:3:

So if you’re overwhelmed today…

Turn to Jesus.
He knows.
He sees.
And He will carry you.