Lessons from Loss: Part III
I heard in a speech that God giggles every time the speaker found a reason to laugh. I’ve had some of the deepest and most soul stirring laughs. I’ve always believed that laughter is good for the soul but in this season it feels pivotal. It’s like in that moment God reminds me that joy can still be found in the nooks and crannies of this new chapter.
I have to assume that if God giggles while I laugh then He must have a reaction just as compassionate when I cry. I took a long shower on Christmas Eve and in this small space I found my own sanctuary. I gladly removed the weight of the world from my shoulders, even if only temporarily, for a bit of me time. I’m not sure where the water ended and my tears began but I felt cleansed in all senses.
I’m still amazed at the ability for the world to continue to spin even though I’m at a standstill. Christmas came and went and I’d be lying if I said his absence wasn’t the only thing present in my mind. Welcoming the New Year meant welcoming the first year of my life where he ceased to exist in the physical form. The heaviness of this is that this hurt isn’t just mine and is shared by everyone who goes to bed asking similarly painful questions like a late night lullaby.
Back to my main focus, God. The night my dad had his stroke, I was scared but I was confident in God. Even as I called 911 with a small stutter in my voice and an unknown uneasiness; I prayed hard and I prayed every day in the hospital...tirelessly. I prayed while he slept with no trace of time or place. I prayed while they took out his breathing tube only to panic once they realized he couldn’t breathe on his own so well. I prayed once he was breathing on his own and moved out of the ICU which had become our second home. Intertwined in my prayers was me relentlessly giving God the power and saying, Come What May.
I was praying for speedy recovery and better reports not an extra week earth side. I was praying for a life not drastically altered by a stroke not for the strength to deal with losing him at only 51. There have been many times where God has glazed over my prayers and gave me a nope or not yet. I can honestly say this is the most heartbreaking unanswered prayer I’ve ever had in my life. A type of pain I wouldn’t wish on anyone but yet all will eventually find themselves standing in this type of grief.
I think I’ve cried every day for the past month. I’ve cried enough tears that Noah could take his ark and float away. These are the type of tears that light fires down my cheeks only to later settle in my lap. These are the type of tears that bring me back to reality when I find myself trying to remember tender moments in hopes that I can keep them forever.
Faith hasn’t felt that good since December 2nd if I was keeping it completely 100.
My faith has felt like a bit of a friend mixed with a foe who causes havoc and smiles in your face the next day. It’s been like the person who slams the door in your face and then reminds you of a different path moments later. I’ve been in a love-hate relationship with faith because God didn’t answer my prayers how I assumed they should be answered. That’s the tough part about faith and what makes it such a hard pill to swallow.
Being a believer is being a believer when you get the raise, go on the amazing trip, find love but also believing when you lose your house, miss out on a great opportunity, or that loved one is no longer earth-side. Believing is being dragged through mud and knowing that you’ll eventually come out clean.