Keep Holding Me

 I'm wired to exceed expectations during the toughest times.  I'm wired to cope, to push through, to find the spiritual silver lining in all of the pain.  Then about six months after the fact, when people expect that things should be moving forward for me, I'm falling apart.  It's been a predictable pattern throughout my life that I first experienced when I lost twins at 22 weeks in  my early 20's. 

And so here we are, almost 6 months after Josh has been gone and I've cried everyday this week and completely feel like I'm coming unraveled.  The broken furnace and frozen pipes helped to push me to my breaking point..  They were cruel reminders that my son wasn't around to lend a hand.  He wasn't there to call.  He wasn't there to help me figure out what needed to be done.  He wasn't there to point out the irony and humor in all that was happening.

While driving to work on Wednesday, crying  I finally spoke out loud the obvious truth I've been avoiding to acknowledge.  I am angry.  Specifically, I'm mad at God.  He wasn't shocked, I'm sure he's just been waiting for me to be honest. 

"Why did you take him from me?  I need him!  I want him back. I'm mad that you let him die!."
As the tears flowed, there was something freeing is hearing the words come out of my mouth.  The struggle for me is that I love God.  I know God loves me.  To be mad at him feels wrong and prideful.  The fact remains, though, I'm mad.  God knew what Josh and mine relationship was like.  God knew how much Josh meant to me.  God knew how heartbroken I would be if he died.  With everything God knew,  God still chose to take him. Why?  Why Josh? Why now?  Why would God let his daughter suffer like that?  Haven't I been through enough in my life? 

I'm tired of being the great testimony.  I've grown weary being the witness of how to suffer as a Christ follower. 

This grief is so unpredictable.  Just when I think I'm moving in the right direction, the roller coaster takes a dive and twists and turns and I'm an emotional basket case again.  The body follows suit with chronic muscle and joint pain.  A miserable mess.  That's where I'm at this week--just an exhausted  miserable mess.

God, just keep holding me close, even when I'm screaming and fighting and being a brat.  Keep your arms tight around me reminding me I am not alone, that you are near.  You are God and I am not.    You are Creator, you are Alpha and Omega, You love me even when I'm drowning in the sea of my humanity.




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