They can paralyze you.
I’ve lain in my bed, chewing on my bottom lip, rehearsing in my head all the things I “should” say or do. All the ways that I could express the mad, the hurt, and the lonely that took over my heart.
I’ve sat unmoving on my couch, staring out the window, fearful of the next moment and what it would bring. Of how I was being weighed and tried and tested in ways that I did not understand.
Every night, EVERY NIGHT, I have thought of returning to writing here, only to be swallowed up in the fear of what the words and thoughts that I would express would provoke in the minds of those who watched my family and I.
And the fear turned to anger and my world became “unfair” and I shook my fist in the night at those who my heart had felt betrayed by.
But take what I have seen, and take my situation, and take my “plight”…and then shout the word unfair at the mother who has buried her baby.
And our friends in Georgia who said goodbye to their worship pastor and friend during a terrible accident. Where is the “fair” in that? A husband with three babies? How is THAT fair?
Where is the “fair” for the family who travels long days to take their preschool son for chemo treatments?
What is “fair” when it comes to fires and school shootings and failing marriages and phone calls from the doctor that you wish you had never answered?
Tragedy and heartache and loss lie all around us. And those who walk the path of pain, and choose not to let the bitterness of this world eat them alive but “in everything, give thanks”, they are some of the most beautiful people I know. They reflect Christ. They radiate love. They are transformed through God’s grace.
Oh that I may be that.
And yet, I’ve hardened my heart and bared my teeth and clenched my fist and chosen to live in the anger. To wallow in my pain.
And while there is a time for mourning, I do not think that God desires that we live there. Pain is real. Pain is hard. Pain comes fast…or seeps in slowly over the course of time. Pain is a part of this life…yet God tells us we are overcomers.
So why don’t I feel that?
Why does it feel like the loneliness of the days will overtake me? Why does it feel that I could live with my anger forever? Letting it consume me and deteriorate myself and my family by robbing us of joy and laughter by slowly killing me from the inside out?
I’m in the middle of reading One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp. (Her blog is here aholyexperience.com)
Ann is an amazingly gifted writer who has been given words that have spoken right to the heart, to the quick of the pain, for so many. And now, to me as well.
She describes her journey of giving thanks for one thousand things, for choosing to see the beauty. For giving thanks in the pain.
For giving thanks FOR the pain?
To say that God understands things I do not would be an understatement. I can’t answer the why to many things right now…nor may I ever.
But I do know this one thing: I do not want to hold on to this soul crushing anger any longer.
I want to be free to write again and to enjoy the things I used to before the fear and the anger became my only way of seeing through things.
And so part of my healing, part of my letting go, part of my returning to joy…is to finally write again. To hit “publish” and and let God guide my writing as He guides the life of my family throughout the days ahead.
God gave me joy in writing. God gives my husband joy in writing as well.
And should He so allow, I am ever hopeful that there will be many more posts, many more stories, many more vignettes of our life, and many more worship songs flowing through and out of this house.
As for the rest, I can’t say what the future holds…
“…But as for me and my house, we will serve the Lord.”