Sometimes I beg with everything in me that all of this is a horrible nightmare, and that I will wake up from it any. moment.
I wait. I breathe. I hear my pulse in my ears, the rhythm of anticipation aching my senses. I might even close my eyes, metaphorically clicking my heels and wishing to go home. Wherever home is, it has to be better than this damned place.
If I were better polished on the outside; no, if I were better polished on the inside, would I have been good enough to keep her here on earth?
Would I actually make a lousy mother? Am I delusional enough to believe otherwise? Is that why she didn't stay?
Was her death a result of my sin, like David and Bathsheba? [
Did I not repent enough for things that were hidden? Even though I was closer toYou around the time that we found out her gender, closer than I'd been before... was it too late? Had you already fixated your wrath for the sins I'd already committed?
Did I not take care enough? Did I overlook so many signs that something was wrong?
Is my body broken? Am I never intended to have children, and You were just throwing me a proverbial bone so that I could at least say "I'm a mother?"
But I'm not a mother. I have not mothered. And I feel cheated out of this.
And sometimes I hate You.
I hate myself more.
People say I'm strong, but I'm nothing but a flimsy weakling.
oh sweet friend, you Are broken. we are all on borrowed time in our broken bodies. broken spirits. broken friendships. broken families. we are a shattered wreck-- a shadow of what we were made to be.
ReplyDeletebut it is not your fault that you are splintered. we have inherited a genetic illness that corrodes us from the inside out. we hate and are hated. we lie in hospital beds terrified of cancer, of surgery, of pills and shots, we lie in our homes terrified of life. we lose friends to jealously. we lose children to death. we were not made for this. you were not made for this.
our lives will always be a struggle, because we are living in the in-between. the soon-but-not-yet. painful anticipation and groaning for what we were made for- which is nothing short of perfection. and God longs to give it to us, but He wants to give it to All of us. not just me. not just you. but Everyone. so He tarries.
and as much as we long for it- there is no immediate fix. no matter how slowly, how painfully it is happening, God is making you new again. whole again. whether you believe it or not, whether you want it or not, He is making you new.
sometimes all we can do is reel in the darkness. there is so much of it. only small glimpses of beauty here and there. small pockets of perfection that remind us of what we are not. what we do not have. shining shorelines miles from us while we struggle to swim in dark waters.
the only thing that keeps me alive is hope. maybe it is vain hope- but would you take that from me? i hope for you. i hope for me. i hope in the promise that God makes that He will not leave us in darkness. that He is coming for us. that this life is not death and darkness only, but just chapter 31 of a book thick with beauty, tragedy, struggle, rescue, and restoration. the story is not over. and the read is slow, terrible, nightmarish at times. but rescue has come for us. just not restoration. not...yet.
i love you dear friend. and i despair with you. all the world despairs with you-- and if anyone does not, then they are blind to the workings of hell and fooling themselves. and what use is a fool? they will lose their loves as well. we will all lose dear things. we are in a world ridden with hell. and do you know with what passion and vengeance satan HATES you? he will do anything to keep you from the beauty you were made for. he will take Everything from you. perhaps he already has. but God will come for you. there will be darkness for a time but God will come for you. He will show you the way out.
i despair with you ashley, but i hope. oh i hope i hope i hope