Precious Lord, take my hand. Lead me on and help me stand.
Precious Lord, take my hand. Lead me on and help me stand.

Curled up on the couch, I watched the sun rise over the ridge. Fresh, cool air streamed in through the open window awakening my senses, drawing my attention to the One who loves me.

I cradled my coffee cup and sipped from its warm goodness and became still, quieted in my spirit, lost in my thoughts.

Stirring deep in my spirit came a song, “Precious Lord, take my hand, lead me on, help me stand. I am tired, I am weak, I am worn … “

Precious Lord, Dry My Tears

Tears began to stream — tears I didn’t know were there. It was like a valve turned and released some of the pent-up sorrow that builds until there’s a wall around my heart protecting me from myself as I strive to stay strong.

I need You, precious Lord.
I need You, precious Lord.

Tears released, and grace fell like rain.

We’ve had three good weeks — joy, laughter, an increased will to live, and then the shadow of death descended on David’s spirit once again. Yesterday. For some unknown reason.

Frontotemporal Dementia is a beast — a relentless monster that robs its victim of themselves.

But FTD can’t rob David of his spirit, nor me of mine. We are sealed in the Spirit of God, engraved on the palm of His hand. And though He slay us, yet will we praise Him, for He is good, regardless of our circumstances. He IS our precious Lord.

And we are finding Him in this darkness.

The Tender Watchcare of Our Precious Lord

God’s tender watchcare is tangible and soothes the difficult places.

I continued gazing out the window. The morning was still — even the birds perched in silence. I remained lost in my thoughts as “Precious Lord, take my hand … ” played over and over in my heart.

Though the reality of our new normal is severe, the TRUTH is that our God is with us. He is for us, not against us. His grace is sufficient and His mercies are new each morning. In the middle of a whole lot of bitter, we have found sweetness as He ministers to us and gives us strength for the journey.

The song in my heart settled like a blanket over the fragile places. With clarity I heard the delicate whisper of the Lord, Peace I leave with you; My peace I give to you; not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your heart be troubled, nor let it be afraid” (John 14:27).

Let not your heart be troubled, nor let it be afraid …

“I’m listening, Lord. I’m trying,” I spoke ever so softly.

And again I heard, Let not your heart be troubled, nor let it be afraid.

Precious Lord, In Your Presence I Stand

I am Your child, precious Lord. Take my hand.
I am Your child, precious Lord. Take my hand.

Precious Lord, I prayed, take my hand. Lead me on and help me stand. Lead me to Your mountain where I will stand in Your Presence and worship You in spirit and truth. From the mountain I will remember the cross that stands on Calvary’s hill, making a perfect way for me to know You and to come before You with my brokenness.

Pour Your grace upon me. Pour Your grace upon Your children who, like me, find themselves overwhelmed by life’s painful places. Let them find You in their darkness — Your light leading them from the cavernous places of pain, leading them to Your mountain high where they, too, can find Your peace and refuge in the storm.

I tipped my coffee cup and drank from its warmth as the Lord warmed my heart. Once again He had lifted me from the miry clay and set me upon His solid Rock.

As the morning continued to awaken and my spirit began to sing, I heard the sweet birdsong echoing my sentiments, “Precious Lord, take my hand. Lead me on and help me stand. I am tired, I am weak, and I am worn. Through the storm, through the night, lead me on to the light …

Take my hand precious Lord, lead me home.”

Selah

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Thank you so much for stopping by. I would love for you to share what’s on your heart in the comments below. Scroll a little farther down and you’ll see where you can leave your comments. Together, we can find the nearness of God in our darkest moments.

Sweet blessings to you,

NAN