Twinkle-less
(1 minute, 30 seconds)

I was listening to a young friend whose suffering is invisible. Her battle is constant, and her pain runs deep. She confided in me that her friends are stepping back, bowing out, and distant as she has tumbled deeper into dark places. She confessed that her need is for a drawing near of those that know she’s hurting, not withdrawal.

It’s pleasant and uplifting to be around people who twinkle. I had the joy of hanging out with three extraordinary twinklers recently on a girls hiking trip west. Truth be told, it was an absolute bliss and giggle-fest. According to Webster, twinkle as a verb means to shine with a sparkling light.
Sparkle begets sparkle. Our souls feel tingly and alive when we engage with those who walk with a bit of pep in their step and twinkle in their eyes.

Everyone has moments or more challenging still, entire seasons where they have lost or misplaced their twinkle; when they are twinkle-less.

This week the Lord keeps bringing me back to three verses of a Psalm. Even this morning as I was swishing toilet bowl cleaner around the loo I was reminded of this scripture. I exhaled an audible sigh as I scrubbed with the toilet brush. As I heard myself sigh, I was reminded yet again of these three verses.

“O Lord, all my longing is before you;
my sighing is not hidden from you.
My heart throbs, my strength fails me,
and the light of my eyes – it also has gone from me.
My friends and companions stand aloof from my plague,
and my nearest kin stand far off.”
Psalm 38:9-11

I think it’s the phrase, “my sighing is not hidden from you” that’s drawing me back again and again to this golden nugget, this sweet delicacy from God’s Word. Also, the confession of my sweet young friend who feels alone in her twinkle-less state.

First, the abandonment of friends when we are less than twinkly should not be! Neither should we shy away from friends in needy seasons.
It’s imperative to be a mercy-giving friend. I’m finding it increasingly crucial to cultivate mercy-giving friendships.

Second and most importantly, when we do feel alone in seasons of languid gloom or unhappiness, we can look to the abounding comfort of the Lord’s nearness which descends upon us and cloaks our weariness like the softest of cuddle duds blankets. In our visible or invisible pain, in our sighing over disappointments, even the swishing of toilets, the Lord is near. Our non-twinkly state doesn’t make Him withdraw. Our sighing isn’t hidden from Him. And neither are we.