Sunday night's storm, right!? Goodness gracious, it was ferocious! The dogs were beside themselves. Mostly Ally, but she encourages Dusty to be afraid too. He tries to settle down and I think Ally comes along and tells him, "Wake up Mama because the world is crumbling!" Then Dusty comes and puts his paws on the bed, "Mama!! Wake up!! Ahhh!" This went on for a bit Sunday night. I finally fell asleep and when I got up in the morning, it was still happening. Poor pups, I bet they didn't sleep at all.
We behave the same way, though, right? Storms rage in our lives and we look everywhere around us for safety, security, comfort. Pacing, panting, never wanting to rest. What we must look like to an all-knowing, all-powerful God who is our Father. Do we think that He doesn't know that it's storming?
These are tough days and I am a jumbled mess right now. My emotions are all over the map. One minute, I'm okay, almost normal--And that's the best it gets--then the next I am sad, just on the brink of tears. I search around for comfort: maybe it's a show, food, drink, but nothing is satisfying. And I know the answer is to read the Bible, pray, spend some quiet time alone with God. I am usually able to open my Bible app and read for a minute. That helps, but I can't stay there all day.
You know what it's like when you cut your finger? (I pick this analogy because it just happened to me a few weeks ago at the beach. I remember vividly.) So, you slice it and at first it looks like there is no blood. You don't really feel the pain of it. I think I was at this stage for the first few weeks after Chad's death. I had sadness, but not what I expected to have. Then, a few moments after the slice, the blood starts gushing. The pain registers in the brain. I think this is where I am now. No longer seeing his face or hearing his voice. Knowing that I never will again. The pain is registering and I am trying to manage it.
God has known that the storm was coming, the slice was coming. I, on the other hand, usually remained optimistic and thought everything would just work out; Chad would be alive and well for the rest of our long lives together. When Chad and I met, married, prayed for children. All along God knew what we would face. Our God is so good. So so good. I would be tempted, as a parent, to tell my child what was coming and warn him to be cautious, but God allowed all of these amazing things to happen because He knew each one was a blessing to us. He knew that our marriage would bring us closer to Him and grow us as people. The children, this is where our earthly perspective would get in the way and surely advise us against starting a family, but God knew that they would be a blessing to us every day, through the hard times and the good. And they continue to bring me joy even on these hard days. I can't wait to see how God will work this all for good in their lives.
I know He is with us in our suffering, walking alongside us. I know that nothing else, nothing earthly, will satisfy. Sometimes things are just hard and there is no escaping the pain of it. There is nothing that will make this feel better except time and healing. I am thankful for the happy moments that do come along. These give me hope.
And I am thankful for all of the love and support from family and friends. What a great comfort each of you is to me. "Thank you" will never be enough. Y'all are awesome.
**If there are any time discrepancies in this entry, it's because it took three mornings to write it.
We behave the same way, though, right? Storms rage in our lives and we look everywhere around us for safety, security, comfort. Pacing, panting, never wanting to rest. What we must look like to an all-knowing, all-powerful God who is our Father. Do we think that He doesn't know that it's storming?
These are tough days and I am a jumbled mess right now. My emotions are all over the map. One minute, I'm okay, almost normal--And that's the best it gets--then the next I am sad, just on the brink of tears. I search around for comfort: maybe it's a show, food, drink, but nothing is satisfying. And I know the answer is to read the Bible, pray, spend some quiet time alone with God. I am usually able to open my Bible app and read for a minute. That helps, but I can't stay there all day.
You know what it's like when you cut your finger? (I pick this analogy because it just happened to me a few weeks ago at the beach. I remember vividly.) So, you slice it and at first it looks like there is no blood. You don't really feel the pain of it. I think I was at this stage for the first few weeks after Chad's death. I had sadness, but not what I expected to have. Then, a few moments after the slice, the blood starts gushing. The pain registers in the brain. I think this is where I am now. No longer seeing his face or hearing his voice. Knowing that I never will again. The pain is registering and I am trying to manage it.
God has known that the storm was coming, the slice was coming. I, on the other hand, usually remained optimistic and thought everything would just work out; Chad would be alive and well for the rest of our long lives together. When Chad and I met, married, prayed for children. All along God knew what we would face. Our God is so good. So so good. I would be tempted, as a parent, to tell my child what was coming and warn him to be cautious, but God allowed all of these amazing things to happen because He knew each one was a blessing to us. He knew that our marriage would bring us closer to Him and grow us as people. The children, this is where our earthly perspective would get in the way and surely advise us against starting a family, but God knew that they would be a blessing to us every day, through the hard times and the good. And they continue to bring me joy even on these hard days. I can't wait to see how God will work this all for good in their lives.
I know He is with us in our suffering, walking alongside us. I know that nothing else, nothing earthly, will satisfy. Sometimes things are just hard and there is no escaping the pain of it. There is nothing that will make this feel better except time and healing. I am thankful for the happy moments that do come along. These give me hope.
And I am thankful for all of the love and support from family and friends. What a great comfort each of you is to me. "Thank you" will never be enough. Y'all are awesome.
**If there are any time discrepancies in this entry, it's because it took three mornings to write it.
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