The nurses came in quietly, remorsefully keeping their rounds, collecting vitals with eyes averted. The holy hush of a sanctuary of silence greeted them in my room and left them tiptoeing through the temple of tribulation. The sudden silence of my room was a guilty rebuke of the joyous jubilation they’d just shared with the other mothers just a few doors down, past the newborn nursery.
Finally, one nurse quietly remarked, “There is a beautiful fragrance that greets me every time I come into your room.”
I invited her to breathe in the scent of the flowers that lined the windowsill. Surprised she said, “No, that’s not it.”
“Must be this candle,” I lifted the lid, but she shook her head, wonder in her eyes at the mystery of the source of that beautiful aroma.
I know now what mysterious fragrance filled that quiet room, because it is not a fragrance that can be chemically duplicated, bottled or sold. It is a combination of peace that permeates, crushed from the healing leaves of the Tree of Life, mixed into the balm of Gilead, with a touch from the spikenard scented hand of the healer, scented with just a blush of bruised and broken rose petals. . . a lingering fragrance of the essence of Emily Rose, the heavenly scent of a newborn, a whispering waft of deferred hope.
I miss that fragrance, too. Some days, I catch a faint waft of a scent, and I am reminded of the Comforter who came to me that day – invisible to everyone else, and yet enveloping me in a sweet fragrant embrace, leaving a hint of that scent in my hair, on my skin, imprinted on my soul. Empty arms empty womb; room pregnant with the fragrance of the empty tomb.
Those who sensed the mysterious fragrance saw only loss and sorrow, but I knew the real source. Peace in pain. Love in loss. Alive in loneliness. Part of my flesh in the presence of the Lord. Bounty in barrenness, beauty for ashes, oil of joy for mourning.
What a fragrance there is in breaking the alabaster jar of worship and praise in the midst of loss and pain. Fragrance cannot be imprisoned in a casket of alabaster. Praise releases the fragrance from the burial bonds of fallible earth. Worship releases the aroma, as it arises on the smoke of our sacrifice, to the heavenly realms where He stores each scented tear.
Has your bruising released a fragrance? Don’t hide or run from the pain. It is accompanied by a special gift, an aromatic offering that will guide you to the source of all fragrance, where you will find comfort and consolation in the arms of the spikenard scented Saviour.
By Shari Popejoy Won Without Words and www.injoyinc.com
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Oh. My. You dug deep into my heart where the pain still resides from the loss of my own, and yet I felt that pain dance with the joy and acceptance of God’s will – where I decided that I’d worship Him, even in the loss. You made words for this feeling I have and didn’t even know it. Your words breathe life and inspire peace-receiving, and you have a gift to spark healing in the choice of gratefulness for all being Grace.
Rich blessings to you, Shari, as you worship Him in the *All*…
Amy, I love your word picture — “pain dance with the joy”. Beautiful, poetic picture of redemption! Thank you for your beautiful blessing.
I just have to tell you that you encouraged me so much, Shari. Something specific in what you said was really very enlightening. Thank YOU.
What a beautiful incident and telling of it! I’m sorry for your loss but very grateful the Lord freed you to share it for the good of others. The last two paragraphs are my favorite bit.
May you find grace and peace for whatever God appoints for you today and continue releasing His fragrance.
Yes! “For we are to God the aroma of Christ. . . the fragrance of life” II Cor 2:15-16
What a beautiful story. I think we all need to become more vulnerable and share what God has allowed to cross our path. Thank you for doing exactly that.
And your kind comment has made that easier; thank you for your encouragement.
WOW!! Thank you! Your words couldn’t be more appropriate for this time in my life. Driving home tonight, I felt myself questioning God (again) and asking “why” and “what’s next”?! Thanks for using your situation to encourage others and to bring Him glory!
Let’s Just pause together a moment and breathe deeply, and allow Him to fill our lives with the fragrance of His perfect peace! A dear friend just mentioned the other day that instead of asking God “Why?” she has begun to ask “How? How will you use this for my good, for my growth, for your glory?” I want to try that!
Yes! Not Why but How? Beautiful… thanks to all for sharing!
So, I’m not the only one God came to like that. The night my baby died at 7 and a half months old our pastor brought 2 yellow roses from his garden for us. He told us how Martin Luther had kept a rose with him while he was on trial to remind him of the scent of heaven. At first I thought it was a kind gesture, that was until the fragrance of those roses filled the entire room. It was like pure rose oil essence. I have never smelled anything like it. I never knew there could be such awe and wonder on such a dark night, but God was with us, the scent of heaven flowing to prepare her for burial and fill us with hope.
Thank you for reminding me to hold on to the wonder and worship as the tough times of grief have now hit.
Oh Philippa, thank you for sharing that beautiful testimony of the sweet present presence of God, Immanuel, God with us. Whenever your heart is heavy with grief, I hope you remember to pause and breathe deeply of the comforting presence of His grace and peace. Thank you for trusting us with your precious memory.
“Has your bruising released a fragrance? Don’t hide or run from the pain.” Oh, thank you for these words. My heart feels like it’s being ripped in two. I so needed to read your post today. I must not run from God’s healing hand. It’s just so hard…mourning our losses.
Yes, mourning is the proof that we have truly loved, and thus is our trophy of love, and yet He gives us the oil of joy as a fragrant exchange for our mourning — in due season.
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