Stop Asking God, “WHY?”

The most human response,

when things happen…

when bad, things happen…

when unexpected, bad things happen… is

the proverbial “WHY? ” question.

I asked it when my baby, Grace, died, in utero, twenty-five years ago.

I asked it when I was diagnosed with colon cancer ten years ago.

I asked it when my 19 year old son, Caleb, died of an accidental drug overdose three years ago.

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Sometimes it was a quiet, weeping statement, “Why, God?….I don’t understand”

Sometimes it was a loud, yelling statement with flailing, fist-shaking arms, “WHY GOD?… I DON’T UNDERSTAND!!!

Sometimes it was a voiceless, groan and moan, collapsed on the floor, “why?… just why, God?

And,

I began to think to ask it AGAIN, about a month ago, when I was diagnosed with breast cancer.

But I hesitated. This time it was different.

Experience taught me.

Asking “WHY?” keeps me stuck.

And I think it keeps most people stuck.

Stuck in the wallowing pit; stuck in bed; stuck in depression; stuck in going forward because there seems no point to going on. What is life after this really bad thing that happened? How can I ever trust again? How can I ever laugh again? How can I go on without my child?

I have been there myself and see it as I listen to others try to process the unexpected, bad things that happen in life. Let’s face it… we want to know ALL the WHY’S… but in most things, we are not meant to know the answer, of WHY …

Most things, just are.

They just are, because God allows it for a purpose only He knows. THIS answer is hard. I fear most people do not want to hear it.

I didn’t.

Shut my eyes!

Clamp my hands over my ears!

Stomp my feet and babble La-La-La-La …til it all goes away!

Yes. It is hard.

I believe it is hard because… well, we want to be bigger than God. We want to challenge Him, question Him, call Him on the carpet… don’t we?

I know I did.

You see, as a human, I like control of my life and wanted to keep it that way.

But,

as a child of the Father, as a woman who loves Jesus, I need to remind myself:

  1. My life is not my own.

2. He knows best.

The day I asked Jesus into my heart, I gave up my life as my own and I surrendered it to the Father who … knows best. But, being human, I go about my life and often forget what that actually means. My life is not my own; I live to glorify God – and try to do what pleases Him. And to bring it right down to bare-bones truth: He knows best – always did and always will. Who am I to question what God allows in a life? He is the master painter, I am just a pigment of paint in His work.

THIS makes it easier now.

THIS makes me hesitate to ask again, Why?

THIS I have decided: Stop asking God, WHY?

And you know what?

I feel freed. I feel relieved. I feel totally at peace. I have crawled into the palm of His hand and can rest easy, supported and carried.

I don’t need to know why I have been allowed a second bout of cancer before I am even 60 years old. Or why I had to suffer the sudden, loss of two children. Or WHY of anything that happens in my life, day to day.

I know, that if I can keep my focus on this: God is God, and I am not, yet, God loves me… THEN I find peace.

The wrestling is over. The match is won and God’s arm is (always was) held up in victory. My job: trust Him and seek Him.

So this is my decision.

I share it with you, just in case you find yourself in the wallowing pit, or in the bed too long crushed by depression, or wonder what the point is in going on, or if there’s life worth living without your child…

I urge you too, to stop asking God, Why?

… And crawl into the palm of His hand and rest. He’s got this. Cuz He’s got you!

Jesus loves you, ya know.

My Sons’ Death was a Springboard: Part Three

1. The human condition,

2. The power of relationship,

3. The gift of a day

My sons’ death gave me deeper understanding of these three things. Today I share with you #3… Open my eyes, to see people as you see them…. continued:

This day, each day, is a gift. And, I never fully appreciated this until the day my tears fell upon the still chest of my dead son; I yearned for just one more day… one more day to hug him, say I love you, and give him opportunity to know how much he was loved by us and by God.

I am more aware now of the gift of a day and regret my actions when I forget it. We are all called to make the most of our time, as it is said: “live like there’s no tomorrow!” That does not mean do everything you can to please your self with pleasures – the meaning of “living like there’s no tomorrow,” I think, is to cherish each minute of each day and purpose to speak truth and love into each human you are privileged to cross paths with. Your word of encouragement could save a life… sharing your supper could speak value into another’s heart… you being there no matter what, could assure another that life is still worth living; this is the gift of a day – one more chance. 

This is why I go on about my sons’ accidental death to overdose. I go on and on and share and repeat my stories like a toddler who sits on the lap of a mother and says, read it again! So that I remember, so that others are reminded and remember, and so that we all may not forget the understanding of the human condition, the power of relationships, and the gift of a day.

Yes, I have been spring-boarded into deeper understanding; my heart aches for my son who has gone to heaven, but I am grateful for the heart lessons I am learning and for beginning to truly see people, as God sees people – in need of love and compassion and help… in need of a Savior.

Look up and walk forward. One day we will each give account for what we have done on this earth – are you ready for that?

“Grief; Get over it and Move on…”

Grief; get over it and move on…” This statement, sometimes accompanied by the coy-inpatient look, even without speaking the exact words, is both feared and despised by those of us who have lost a son or a daughter to a substance, overdose death.
You don’t know, until you know.  So don’t presume to know when someone should get over their grief and move on.
The fact that this mom is even out of bed and moving at all, is an accomplishment on some days…
…because GRIEF, never goes away.
This is my battle with grief; this is about my son.

I am in the egg that sizzles in the pan with a pop and a splat;
I am among the crumbs left strewn across the counter with drips of hot butter trailing off the counter.
When the moon is heavily misted, on a cool night, I am there in the exhaled puff of your breath,
And in the rise of tiny goosebumps.

I roll in your mind like the ocean tide that breaks on the pebbled beach,
tossed over and over and over.
As the farm supply truck passes by,
And the bearded friends walk past, I am there too.

I am in the lulls and quiet places; Always in the holding bear hugs.
In the chuckles and giggles…
In the cannonball jumps…
In the flipping of the anticipated burgers, and the crackles of the bonfire, I am present.

Body, mind, and heart remember me.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Another day,
each day,
today;
I am always as close as the warm, sweet, milk breath of an infant sleeping on a momma’s bare breast.

As the shades of night are pulled,
And when the dawn awakens with the song of the mockingbird,
I settle in upon e v e r y t h i n g.
In the trash piled by the backdoor,
In the gritty grind of the stones underfoot,
and in each clomping step up the bare wood stairs.

The measure of love is immeasurable,
unable to be weighed and counted because I am always pressing.
Grief matches the love.
I am in it all.
Especially when the refrigerator door is left open.

So, you see…
There’s no getting over my grief because memories are everywhere.

Move on? I do.

Every day I get out of bed and do life as it unrolls before me and I live; I live with the grief undergirding my experience of everything in my path, it has become part of my DNA. My way of living is forever changed and I may walk slower than before, I may forget the to-do’s and ignore the insignificant, I may choose a different path than everyone is expecting. Fact.

No. Grief never goes away. Even when I smile, or laugh, and look as if all is well, know…that at any moment, a lump is in my throat, a tear is trickling, or a good cry is on it’s way.

If you know someone like me, be patient, be understanding, and be ever so tender. Treat others the way you would want to be treated if the tables were turned. Just do me a favor, do not tell your grieving family member or friend to, “Get over it and move on…