Don’t want to talk

These past few weeks have been dark for me.

Since losing Cora, I have had many hard days. I have learned that sometimes grief pops out of nowhere and hits you over the head with heartache that you were just starting to feel like you had come to grips with. I have learned that sometimes I feel guilty for being happy, and I have daily wrestled with the quiet that is still in my home. No tiny person to keep me up at night; no toys and supplies betraying a little human who has taken residence.

And life has gone on. I still get up and go to work every day. I’m teaching again, and I’m planning and hoping. But these past few weeks, I have struggled. I have felt hopeful and hopeless, alone and surrounded. Life as I think that it should be doesn’t exist.

And I become bitter. I compare myself to those around me whose situations I envy and I want to give up. I try to figure out God’s will with my human reason, and I feel even more bitter and upset. I focus on myself.

And I cry, and I hide. And I tell God that I don’t feel like praying right now. I don’t feel like studying my Bible. Being obedient to God and pursuing Him isn’t like shaking a magic eight ball and being told “Yes! Definitely” when I present God with the desires of my heart. He gives me more of Himself, but not exactly what I want Him to give me. And I feel such guilt for telling God that I don’t want to talk to Him.

But, that is prayer in itself, isn’t it? God is not so small as to not be able to handle my emotions. He isn’t surprised when my worn out heart looks at Him and says “I can’t do this for another day. Take it away from me.” As a dear friend listened to me whine last night, she reminded me of another person who asked for His circumstances to be changed if God willed it. The night before Jesus was betrayed and arrested, He went to God, His Father, and said:

“Father, if you are willing, remove this cup from me. Nevertheless, not my will, but yours, be done.” (Luke 22:42)

He knew what needed to happen. He understood. He knew that on Good Friday, He would be put to death and that in that death, He would pay for my sins and yours so that we could be untied with God upon accepting Christ’s gift.

And I, a frail human, have no idea what will be required of me tomorrow or if today’s cup will pass from me.

But I know that Christ willingly subjected Himself to death and suffering for me. He suffered. He knows my suffering. And I know that on the third day, He rose again.

Easter is coming. Redemption is at hand.

2016-02-08 08.15.10

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2 thoughts on “Don’t want to talk

  1. Magela says:

    Sometimes we need to embrace the pain because that is what keeps us going back to the Lord in a desperate way. I am also grieving the loss of my son. The pain is very real. Some days I feel a little better and other days the tears come very easily. Many, many nights I have cried myself to sleep. The Lord is faithful. He loves us, even when we cannot understand His plans. I am grateful for the sacrifice Jesus made and more importantly because He is alive. We will be with our babies one day. Praise be to God!!! I am praying for you.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. brittmoore84 says:

    Somedays I am fine; many days I feel exactly as you have described. Grief really does sneak up on me sometimes. I know God hears me when I talk to him, but I don’t know his plans, which both frustrates me and relieves me at the same time. Because I know they are good. I don’t know what that good will look like or how long the wait will be, but I know it’s beyond anything I can imagine.

    I pray his goodness on you, too! And especially peace and joy during the waiting.

    Liked by 1 person

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