I also remember writing an evening prayer last June when I had a big breakdown.  After 9 months of trying to stay strong, I no longer could be strong, and I remember sinking to my knees and crying out to the Lord, weeping, deep hurtful tears.  Begging God to help me to overcome this great loss.  Again I sat at the foot of the cross, processing my grief, and in the silence I heard God’s soft voice.  It was an at of surrendering.  Of letting go.  Of giving my son to Jesus.  So that he would be looked after.  This is what I wrote:

Its evening Jesus, and here we go again

with the same routine, I pray, I worship you

I thank you for the life you gave me

I am grateful for your forgiveness that

you give and grateful that you walk with me

amongst the rugged plains of earth.

+++

Its evening Jesus, and I am alone in my room

weeping for my lost son, yet thanking

You for looking after my little prince.

But my fragmented soul wonders if I will ever feel like I did

once long ago, when I could smile,

now I smile through the curtains of my tears.

+++

Its evening Jesus and I am sad once more

and I wonder if my life will ever be the same

The mundane routine of my life

carries on and I ponder if you hold

me close to your heart

if you love me like you love my son.

+++

Oh Jesus, o my Saviour, how I wish I could

be in your arms once more

and feel the strength of your love

pull me through

How I wish I could walk on water

and feel you fill my veins with

a hope immeasurably more.

+++

Its evening Jesus, and all I want to say is

Good night Jesus.  Thank you for comforting

me once again, amongst the debris of my

shattered heart.  Thank you Jesus,

for holding me and saying

‘It is well with your soul’

Thank you for loving me.

+++

Thank you Jesus for loving my son

and holding him close to your heart.

Its evening Jesus

and I hand my son over to

you once more forever more,

thank you for looking after my little baby.

+++

Its evening Jesus and I pray my final prayer

to you once more, please hold me close.