I feel like I should be “over it” by now. It’s been almost seven years of being in and out of facilities and hospitals where I see many children living with illnesses and disabilities.

Still, I tear up every time.

I understand that what I see almost daily is nothing compared to the human suffering that some see. I’m experiencing only a “pinch”. If I allow myself to think too much I get frustrated with my tears and embarrassed by my sensitivity.

My heart goes out to the parents at the hospitals. Their eyes tell their stories; I don’t have to ask. My eyes tell a story. Sometimes I try to make eye contact and smile a little halfway; they do, too.

We know each other.

I sit next to Malachi in the waiting room and his hand touches my arm, I look up and he’s smiling from ear to ear. He’s taken back for his appointment and eyes fill with tears. Why am I crying? I think.

Then Jesus meets me in the hospital and reminds me of His gospel message: “But God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ—by grace you have been saved.” Eph.2:4-5 

I serve a Savior that is wealthy. He gives me mercy and love generously and because of that, I live in communion with Him. No longer in a freefall, His grace has planted me on firm ground.

The Gospel isn’t just something I want to preach. I want to live it.

With every fiber of my being, I want it to overwhelm me. I want it to remind me of the great love that Jesus has for me through His death burial and resurrection. I want to live in the knowledge of that love every minute of every hour of every day.

Christ is my great comforter.

This post originally appeared on the author’s Facebook page

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