I spent three days in the hospital after delivering my stillborn baby, and then I went home to a silent house with empty arms. The furniture had not moved. The clock kept ticking. Somewhere out the window, children were laughing and life was carrying on as though nothing had happened, while in my world nothing would ever be the same again. I wandered from room to room, and without really deciding to, I found myself in the bathroom. I turned on the shower and stepped under the water, hoping its warmth might reach a place in me that had suddenly grown so cold. I wanted to pray and could not find the words. In the end I simply sat down on the shower floor and cried until the water ran cold.

Maybe you know that floor, or one like it. Maybe your arms came home empty too, or the chair at your table did, or the future you had already begun to love quietly slipped away before it ever had the chance to begin. Grief like that is too heavy for advice, and heaven knows it is too heavy for the small comforts people offer when they do not know what else to say.

Psalm 91:4 (NIV) says, “He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge.” I did not feel covered that day. I felt shattered, and my prayers were little more than broken whispers. Yet looking back, I can see what I could not see then. My Father had never left my side. Long before I had words for what I was feeling, He was holding me in the shelter of His presence. I was being covered by His feathers while I still believed I was completely alone.

Here is the truth to carry into today. God’s covering is not measured by what you can feel. He does not wait until your faith feels strong, or your prayers sound right, or the tears finally stop. He draws near in the coldest room of your grief and stays. Refuge is not a place you find when you are finally composed. It is a Father who was already there, with His wings around you, the whole time.

So if today finds you in your Saturday, between heartbreak and hope, you do not have to climb anywhere to reach God. Sit where you are. Cry if the tears come. The One who covered me on that shower floor is covering you now, and He will still be there when the dawn you cannot yet imagine begins to break.

Father, You know the room where each of us stopped being able to stand. You were there before we knew to look for You, and You have never left. Cover us again today with Your feathers. Hold the brokenhearted close under Your wings, and carry us gently through our longest Saturdays toward Your morning. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

Read Tay’s full story: The Water Ran Cold