I LIFT UP MINE EYES...

It was the first memorable sight of my new hometown that morning in 1970, when the newspaper managing editor who'd just hired me picked me up at the airport. As we came down the hill en route to the newspaper office, he pointed out a huge, unique land formation on the other side of the Columbia River. “Saddlerock, they call it,” he said. And yes, I could imagine that shape in the rocky crag before us, beileved to be an old volcano's neck. After five years as a reporter and editor, I would move away to other opportunities. When I returned to the valley several years later later to be married, the “saddle” still stood there. Stark, high, and regal.

Many have hiked it, even several times. I never did—busyness and health being my reasons. But in June, “Saddlerock” was the commanding view from the window of my husband's hospital room. He would die, just short of age 78. But, thanks to that physical symbol of our great and mighty God, I would be reminded of the comfort freely offered in Psalm 121:

I will lift up my eyes to the hills, where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth....The Lord will watch over your coming and going both now and forevermore. (vv. 1, 8)

As I transition into a “new normal” after nearly 42 years of marriage, I sense the hug of God while re-reading familiar and comforting scriptures. The grief fatigue is there. The sense of being overwhelmed is, too. But there's love, too--in food gifts, the flood of cards, the caring visits and phone calls. All said my husband's life (as a Christian, a great dad, a teacher, and all-around friend to many) mattered in theirs. And that meant a lot.

And so does the even-more-stalwart hope and comfort of God. Just the right scriptures come to my sad heart, reminding me that this was not an end, but a transition for someone who loved and served the Lord. Also, that I am the Great Shepherd's lamb, under His protective eye. He walks alongside in the valley of death (Psalm 23).

I'm told that the view from the top of Saddlerock is spectacular. From the “saddle,” you can see the sweep of the Columbia River as it veers from south to east its serpentine journey to the Pacific ocean. And the hills! Gray, scrubby, scruffy, all part of the unique high desert terrain of Central Washington. But be careful from that viewpoint. The other side is a dangerous drop.

And maybe that's a good reminder for this season of life. Not to indulge in prolonged grief or self-pity, but to look to others, and share the hope you have in Jesus. A friend (my long-ago childbirth coach!), who was also widowed this past year, mailed me a card with a caring note, then later just a Bible verse:

Surely God is my help; the Lord is the one who sustains me. Psalm 54:4

This is part of healing a big heart-wound, carrying forth the reality that God comforts us in our troubles “so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God” (2 Corinthians 1:4).

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Here is one powerful rendition of Psalm 121 set to contemporary music:

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