It rained today. It poured, and I felt like I was drowning. The rain was too much of a parallel to my own life today. Every time it seemed to let up it would begin again, but harder, like it was trying to suffocate you and wash you away. I wished it would stop. Having the outside world match your inner pain is overwhelming. But my son looked at me and said, “Mom, the mud puddles are going to be awesome!”
Where are my mud puddles? I want to run through them laughing and soaking up the rewards of the rain. But some days they never come. It just rains. Days when you feel deep loneliness in a full clinic because families you started treatment with are home, cancer free, and you are still there. Days when a bald little girl with a doll brings you to your knees because she reminds you of another little girl who now walks with Jesus. Days when a father throws his coffee against the bathroom wall because it all hurts too much. Days when you walk down a hospital hall filled with children you don’t recognize because they’re all new and it breaks you. Days when the tears are unending. And days, upon days, upon days filled with doubt whether you made the right decision and knowing it will be months before you find out. Months. Days that run into nights where sleep never comes but you are so tired. I am tired and Holden is tired and the finish line for the marathon we never trained for seems so very far away. And all I can do is sit. Sit, breathe through the pain, and let my heart cry out to Jesus because I don’t have the words. I simply don’t have words that big.
“When tragedy makes its unwelcome appearance and we are deaf to everything but the shriek of our own agony, when courage flies out the window and the world seems to be a hostile, menacing place, its the hour of our own Gethsemane…The night is bad. Our minds are numb, our hearts vacant, our nerves shattered. How will we make it through the night? The God of our lonely journey is silent. And yet it may happen in these most desperate trials of our human existence that beyond any rational explanation, we may feel a nail-scarred hand clutching ours…In our vulnerability and defenselessness we experience the power of Jesus in His present riseness.” –Brennan Manning, Abba’s Child