I have refused to touch such things; they are like loathsome food to me.

In my time of trouble I sought the Lord. I kept my hand raised in prayer throughout the night. I refused to be comforted.

Why must I continually suffer such painful anguish? Why must I endure the sting of their insults like an incurable wound? Will you let me down when I need you like a brook one goes to for water, but that cannot be relied on?”

The Lord says, “A sound is heard in Ramah, a sound of crying in bitter grief. It is the sound of Rachel weeping for her children and refusing to be comforted, because her children are gone.”