All the Way My Savior Leads Me

I have been grieving the death of a relationship for almost a year; a relationship which lacks any capacity whatsoever to be restored.

So much like the poignant illustration of Henry and Clara, a once devoted married couple who have, over time, found themselves increasingly estranged.

Henry is driving down the road, and Clara is up against the passenger door staring out the window.

Clara speaks.

“Henry I remember when you and I would sit right up against each other in the car. I imagine people traveling behind us wondered if we were some sort of two headed creature.”

Henry smiled, but doesn’t say anything, and Clara finally remarks,

“What?”

As her middle-aged husband of thirty years grips the steering wheel, he finally looks over at her, and responds,

… “I’m not the one who moved.”

As a counselor it has been easy for me to, in so many words, tell my clients struggling with a long-term relational loss to “snap out of it!”

However, a recent personal loss of a relationship has “brought it all home to me,” and allowed me to empathize with my clients in a way that I never could before.

You see, a couple years ago I began to develop a significant paternal, platonic fondness (with an emphasis on those two “P” words) for an individual from another faith, who as the result of counseling, evangelizing, and mentoring became all but a daughter to me.

And then it all changed. So much like the previous illustration of Henry and Clara.

I feel that way.

…I’m not the one who moved.

I can identify with Jesus when a number of his outer circle drifted away from Him, and He asks His disciples,

…”Will you also go away?”

I was listening to an old archival radio/internet broadcast today, “Night Sounds,” and the host of the show aired the song, “All The Way My Savior Leads Me.” And I found myself doing something I haven’t done in a while.

… I wept.

And I immediately realized why I was weeping.

I am continuing to grieve what I have continued to grieve the past year. And there seems to be no recourse, of “getting over it.” And intuitively I recognize that there is a

_________ (insert name here) shaped-hole in my spirit which can never be filled by another human being.

And I am at a loss to know exactly what to do.

At the same time, the loss of this relationship has made me a more empathetic human being. What was once a theory has taken on substance. And that poignant scripture rings truer than ever before.

“I will give you riches in darkness, and treasures in secret places.” (Isaiah 45:3)

And I think I will continue to sense this inestimable loss until I give my breath back to my Creator. And I think that there is little remedy for such a profound loss. But as God sits on His throne and so well rules the universe, I intend to “keep on keeping on,” and refuse to be altogether bowed down by the impact of this loss.

Though that “itch which refuses to be scratched” retains a sensitivity, unlike the figurative skin which surrounds it, I will continue to go about doing good, and I will, as Christ gives me power, continue to embrace a healthy and empathetic mindset.

For there are those among us with issues and needs that far outweigh any I have ever known, and God gracefully continues to place such desperate souls in my pathway to love, encourage and impact.

And I have and (no doubt) will continue to be comforted by the lines of that old Gospel melody,

…“When I do the best I can, and my friends misunderstand. Thou who knowest all about me,

… stand by me.”

(By William McDonald, PhD. Excerpt from "Concepts, Teachings, Practicalities & Stories)