I tell you...grief is a strange thing. If I could give a picture to grief, it would be the ocean...strong and unpredictable. Some days, it seems like life is all as it should be...full of peace and hope. Other days, you feel like you've been hit like a mack truck and you can't remember that just yesterday your soul felt at rest.
Well, on Sunday I experienced the mack truck. We were walking into church and struck up a conversation with a gentleman who we came to know after our pastor introduced us on the connection, we had both suffered a miscarriage in our family. We chit-chatted for a bit, and he asked us how were doing. You know the difference between the casual "How are you doing" you say to a complete stranger...where it is just polite to say, "Fine", and move on. Well, it wasn't one of those...it was a "How are you doing" in the sense that I've felt your pain, and I know that some days are good and some days are bad. Well, Jason and I confidantly and flippantly responed, "We're doing great!"
As we were sitting in the service, I reflected on the seemingly meaningless response we gave...and I thought, "Wow! We are doing great...praise God!" I even felt a little tinge of pride, like we had successfully endured another tragedy without it even leaving a bruise.
And then, I entered the busy interstate surrounded by mack trucks and there was no sidewalk for protection. Our pastor was preaching on sharing our lives with others and how it's important to share personal testimonies of God being there for us. He remarked on the strength and presence he felt from God when his parents divorced (ok, I can see that), after losing his grandfather (sure, God comforts), when he married his wife (oh, yeah...the Lord felt so present at our wedding too), and then when he heard his son's heartbeat last week at the doctor's office (what? huh?).
Collision! Mack truck has struck a pedestrian! I immediately felt my spirit crushed. I had to contain myself from just breaking down and running out of the service. I wanted to stand up and scream, "No! God was not with us through the hardest time of our lives! He left us to fend for ourselves, and now all I have left is the thought of what could've been!" Nothing else...a due date on Saturday that is now just filled with pain and emptiness. A body that cannot seem to figure out what it's doing. And a husband who doesn't understand this pain either.
I just sat there with my pain consuming me, saying, "God, where were you? You were with him, why not me? What did I do wrong?"
When it was time for communion, I walked up slowly, just hoping that the pastor's pregnant wife would not be the one serving me. Karma...oh yeah, she was. She handed me the bread, and said, "Brandy, accept God's love." And I thought, I'm trying to.
We sung this song after communion (dialogue in my head):
You are so Good to Me
You are so good to me (Oh really?)
You heal my broken heart (Hmm...my heart, it's still broken)
You are my Father in Heaven (Do you really love me, because sometimes I don't feel it)
You ride upon the clouds
You lead me to the truth
You are the Spirit inside me (Well give me some peace, would you?)
You poured out all Your blood (Ok...here it is, yes, you do...you love me, though I may not feel it, God you love me perfectly, completely, hugely)
You died upon the cross
You are my Jesus who loves me
In the midst of my pain and my questions to the Lord during this song, the sun started shining so warm on my face through the window, and there it was...the presence of the Lord when I so desperately needed Him. I know it came from Him, and I knew He was telling me, "Brandy, I've always been there, and I always will be. Rest in me." The Lord humbled me that morning and I knew that the journey I'm walking has ups and downs, but He's right there with me.