Paul walked with something screwed up tight inside him. He would have suffered much physical pain rather than this unreasonable suffering at being exposed to strangers

But he had been so much hurt that something inside him had perished, some of his feelings had gone. There was a blank of insentience.

Let me say from conviction that tears are the outlet of the heart.

As strange as it sounds, broken people are fixed by other broken people. It's God's economy.

And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes; there shall be no more death, nor sorrow, nor crying.

Sometimes, given their depth, we become little more than the sum of our wounds, and it takes someone else to see what we can be instead of what we are.

You hang around people long enough and you learn their tells. Pain has a way of exiting the body, and most will let you know when it's on its way out. Seldom do they know what their "tell" is telling you. Most often it's silent. Sometimes it can be loud. However it comes out, it leaves a trail. Jittery fingers. Itchy skin. Headaches. Always tired. Always hungry. There are hundreds, I guess.

She blazed, burned herself out, and then disappeared into the silent deep, sounding the echoes of remembrance throughout a hollow and shattered heart.

I would go to the deeps a hundred times to cheer a downcast spirit. It is good for me to have been afflicted, that I might know how to speak a word in season to one that is weary.

When trouble comes, focus on God's ability to care for you.

As a culture, we seem to have an intolerance for suffering; we tend to want those who have experienced a loss of any kind to get on with their lives as quickly as possible. Often, by minimizing the impact of significant losses, pathologizing those whose reactions are intense, and applauding those who seem relatively unaffected by tragic events, we encourage the inhibition of our own grief.

Numerous studies have shown that your health risk is higher following a loss.