Thursday, March 31, 2016


I do not struggle with the question of if there is a God or not.  I do not struggle with anger at Him.  I don't really struggle with whether or not He is good, though I have wrestled through some "why" questions with Him.  But through it all, He holds me.  When I feel far from Him, I know it is because I am holding Him at arms length, scared to trust Him with my heart completely.  I also know that none of my feelings or wonderings change who He is or make Him love me any less.  He is there...drawing me, holding me, understanding me.

My struggle now is to find contentment in the living.  Just being joyful with where He's placed me and what He's called me to walk through.  I feel so robbed.  Like William's childhood was stolen right out from under me.  Would it have been different if my child had grown into adulthood?  I do not know.  Can a parent ever not grieve the death of their child?  I have to remind myself that I did not deserve to be William's mother.  It was a precious gift that I was given for a time.  The many other souls that have been entrusted to me are blessings that I do not deserve.  And He holds me.  And I survive.
Two months is too little
They let him go
They had no sudden healing
To think that Providence
Would take a child from his mother
While she prays, is appalling

Who told us we'd be rescued
What has changed and
Why should we be saved from nightmares
We're asking why this happens to us
Who have died to live, it's unfair

This is what it means to be held
How it feels
When the sacred is torn from your life
And you survive
This is what it is to be loved and to know
That the promise was when everything fell
We'd be held

This hand is bitterness
We want to taste it and
Let the hatred numb our sorrows
The wise hand opens slowly
To lilies of the valley and tomorrow


If hope is born of suffering
If this is only the beginning
Can we not wait, for one hour
Watching for our Savior

Chorus (2X's)

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