My friend, Horatio G. Spafford

It's story time.

There once lived a man named Horatio G. Spafford.

Horatio was a lawyer.

Horatio had a lovely home, a lovely wife and a handful of lovely children.

Everything was lovely.

Until tragedy waltzed in one day and Horatio lost his 4 year old son to a terrible, senseless disease. 

Horatio and his wife and their remaining children were grief stricken. The loss of a child... Heartbreaking to say the least.

Well, a few years passed and Horatio invested a large amount of money into real estate. It was the mid 1800s in Chicago and real estate was booming. 

Unfortunately mere months after investing a large portion of his wealth,  the Great Fire of Chicago swept through and turned his investments to ashes... 

With the grief of his loss compounded by the strain of financial loss, Horatio planned to get away for awhile.. You know, get out of town and get his head on straight.

He booked passage on a ship that was headed to Europe. The plan was to take his lovely wife and their four daughters away from the site of so much heartache. Just before sailing, business got crazy and Horatio sent his family on ahead of him. 

Horatio: "Hey honey.. How about you and the girls head over to Europe early... Relax in Paris for a few days, you know... Shop, eat cupcakes. I'll get the boss off my back, get some hours in and I'll be over before you can say 'Spafford family vaycay.." 

So... Anna and the girls set off. 

Horatio went about his business.

One day, a telegram arrived at his office. 

From Anna.

It began..."saved alone..." 

It continued. It told Horatio, the dad who had already buried a 4 year old son, that tragedy had laid hold of the ship and it had sunk to the depths of the ocean, taking his four daughters with it. They were 11,

9,

5 and 2 years old.

Horatio....

Buried his son.

The fire consumed his wealth.

The ocean swallowed up his girls.

Horatio G. Spafford. 

A man who intimately knew the breath sucking wrench of grief. He knew the exhaustion that creeps up and folds around you in the moments that those body wracking sobs ease up. He knew the numbness that comes with each reminder that death has visited and taken what you earnestly thought was yours to keep. 

I'm a fan of Horatio G. Spafford. 

Not because he lost the treasures he valued most on this planet.

But because of his response to that loss.

You see, I reckon that some things in life are pretty much out of our control. 

Like terrible diseases.

Like awful accidents that rob lives.

What is in our control is the way we respond and react to what is before us, staring us down every single day.

And Horatio??? Well... Horatio responded with these words, penned as he stared down the expanse of sea that was the resting place of his babes...his little girls.

Horatio wrote:

When peace like a river 

Attendeth my soul

When sorrows like sea billows roll.

Whatever my lot

You have taught me to say

It is well

It is well

With my soul..

It

Is

Well

I have been singing those words.

A lot.

We sang them on that hardest of days when we stood before a polished timber coffin that held the dearest and most precious of people I had.

Sorrow like sea billows rolled...

Grief and pain whipped up a savage storm.

And I think about Horatio.

Who lost so much.

And who stood and said whatever was his lot, whatever came his way- it is well.

It can be called prophesying.

Self talk.

Speaking life.

It's saying "Hey soul!!!! Hey emotions and intellect and thought process.... IT IS WELL." 

It's not being 'happy' or even 'ok '.. I mean, loss is loss and it sucks. Severely.

But somewhere in the chaos of grief is the lifeline that is echoed in the words "it is well with my soul."

It is well. Because I know that just beyond this veil of humanity is the eternity that waits.

It is well. Because He, the commander-of-angel-armies, Is in control. Even when I can't see it or feel it... Especially then.

Weather I am in a season of peace

Or in a surging storm of heartache..

It is well with my soul. 

Sheldon is the greatest example of this at the moment. 

He is asked often how he is going, and how his faith is holding up...

And his answer, unswervingly, is that his reliance and trust is not dependent on the outcome of tomorrow. Whatever his lot...WHATEVER his lot- it is well with his soul.

Let me leave you, dear hearts, with this. 

The hope that is ours.

The balm that soothes the sting of loss.

This final thought, that was my beautiful mums great joy- the joy of her salvation.

My sin, oh the bliss of this glorious thought

My sin, not in part but in whole

Is nailed to His cross

And I bear it no more

Praise The Lord

Praise The Lord 

Oh my soul....