An odd comfort

In these days and moments that remain intense and strange, I am increasingly thankful for the psalmists and prophets of the old testament variety. Their words give me an odd sort of comfort and hope. A model for prayers.

If these characters of "biblical proportions" can pen words of such anger and frustration and despair, and yet still model a love of the Lord, and a commitment to serve and worship him, then maybe it is possible for me to find some sort of balance in this as well.

I am taking comfort in Lamentations 3 tonight.

Particularly these verses:

My tears flow endlessly;
they will not stop
until the Lord looks down
from heaven and sees.
(3:49-50)

Look down, O Lord, and see me. Hold me and gather me to yourself. Carry me, as Isaiah says, the way you would carry a lamb, in your arms, holding me close to your heart. Leading me gently.