Jim Croce sang, “If I could save time in a bottle, the first thing that I’d like to do… is to save every day til eternity passes away just to spend them with you.”

PSALM 56:8 tells us God “collects all of our tears in a bottle and recorded each one in your book.”

Both of these bottles have something very intense in common… love … and sorrow.

When someone you love has been torn from your life, whether or not age has anything to do with it, our broken hearts long to go back and collect every moment we have ever spent with that precious person and relive it.   Bottle it.  Relive it.  Bottle it.  Never have to lose it again.  With today’s technology we are able to relive many of our happiest memories on DVD’s and in Scrapbooks.  What a precious gift this is, especially to our children who so easily forget the nuances of our loved ones who have passed on while they are so young.  The danger of this technology lies in never wanting to move beyond reliving the memories.   Bottled memories are wonderful, but we must not pour ourselves into the bottle with them.

The Comforter reminds us in Psalms that He loves us so much, He collects each and every tear we cry and puts them in a bottle, our bottle.  Some day, when it is our turn to be called home, we will see our bottle.  Not all of our tears will be sad, there will also be sparkling tears of joy and laughter in our bottle, causing it to glow with the full light of Christ’s love.

God is our source of comfort and joy.  We can find joy again when we lean wholly on Him, and allow our tears and the memories of time to be kept in a heavenly bottles.

 

Why Not Me?

By Shelley Ann Brandon on September 8, 2010

I miss you more than anyone can see

And in my brokenness I cry “Why me?”

Why me God?  What didn’t I do? This isn’t what was supposed to be!

Oh dear Lord, what went wrong? Why God? Why me?

Why did I lose the one I loved, this one I held so dear?

Whose breath was mine and pulse was mine, this one who forever should to me be near,

Why God? Why?………… Why me?

This shouldn’t be happening to me!

But, why not me?

What makes me more significant than these?

What of the grandparents who daily attend

The tiny stone-less grave of their infant grandson, who even in their grief do bend

To water plants at my beloved’s grave, and call to check on me.

Why me?  Why not me?  Why them?

Why not me?

What makes me better, one who should be exempt from pain,

Than the man who humbly stands in line, head down to hide his shame

Job lost, home and family gone… was this his choice in life to make

Am I better than he Lord that my life should know nothing but gain?

Why me?  Why him?

Why not me?

Who am I except by accident of birth

Better off than the African mother on the other side of the earth

Who daily watches her babies from starvation die

And can do nothing but hold them as tears fall from her helpless eyes

Who am I Lord, who am I?

My aching heart begs again to cry out “Why me?”

But my memories of you Love are too strong to let that be

You, who never once asked, “Why me?”

Whose only request of God instead

Was, “Use me Lord, I am not dead”

And “I know that you are not finished yet with me.  Use me Lord”

Please use me.