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sleep the sleep of the loved.

my husband has said this over me, whispered like a prayer, of late.

the past two years (and counting) have heaped layer upon layer of grief and trauma upon us. the news barrage—of policy changes, plane crashes, protests, tariffs, wildfires, wars—has added another layer of heartbreak and exhaustion.

these nights feel far longer than they ought to be. my mind spins ceaselessly. my chest feels tight, like sticky, soot-black tar is spreading slowly all across it.

most days, now, sleep is a luxury.

but when i hear that phrase—sleep the sleep of the loved—a little crack appears in that hardened armour i put on everyday to face whatever comes my way. i stop raging against the world (and against God too, to be completely honest). i take deep, slow breaths, over and over again.

“the warrior within you deserves to rest and find peace for now,” my friend texted me last week.

let it be so, i say. make my warrior spirit lie down in green pastures and lie beside still waters, for He restores her soul. let her feel safe and secure even in a whirling storm. let her sleep the sleep of the loved.

for all who need this today 🤍

“my God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

the words Jesus spoke before he breathed his last—ones that resonate with me most in this season of grief and loss.

it’s a cry that echoes in the hearts of every bereaved parent whose children have been taken from them far too soon. it’s a cry that is issued from the very core of our being because we are made to be in relationship with our Creator.

on holy saturday today, we sit in the oppressive silence that follows this rending of reality and crushing of hope. we wait, shrouded in darkness and despair. we groan, wrestling with the unravelling and unknowing of our expectations.

this is a day we remember that our pain is welcome here. all of it. we do not need to hide it or dress it up in more appealing clothes. it will not be despised or ignored.

how do we know this? it’s in the nail-scarred hands, the blood-soaked crown, and the heartwrenching cry of a beloved Son that receives no answer:

“my God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”