Even in the Silence, He Is There (As featured on (in)courage)
The world didn’t stop. It kept turning, kept moving forward, as though nothing had changed. But for me, everything had. I remember stepping outside that tragic morning, my heart shattered beyond words. My neighbor stood in his yard, watering his flowers, exclaiming about what a beautiful June day it was. I could barely comprehend his words. How could anything be beautiful in this moment? My voice came out flat, almost detached from the reality crashing around me:“Well, my son just died, so I don’t know how beautiful a day it is.” Grief has a way of making everything around you feel distant, like you’re watching life from behind a thick pane of glass. You see it, but you’re not part of it. You exist in a different space—one that is heavy with sorrow and filled with deafening silence. Had God forgotten me? I had always believed in His presence, but grief has a way of testing even the deepest faith. If God was with me, why did I feel so alone? Why did my prayers seem to go unanswered? And how was I even supposed to pray in this kind of pain? What does one say to the Almighty when
