Monday, August 17, 2015
Letting the Words Out
My mind swirls with words. All of the time. This isn't new to me but it is becoming more and more difficult to control. I lie in bed willing myself to sleep but instead I listen to the silent words fluttering around my head. Words that really need to escape... for my own sake and maybe for the sake of someone else too. It is at least my hope that the continuous ramblings of my mind will find someone else in their darkness. So I decided to start this blog to release the words.
I share my heart because my heart is broken and organizing the fragments into words is healing. I share because this hand I've been dealt is really hard, unimaginable to so many who have not been dealt this stack of cards. But I am not the only one who's life has taken a jeering, really, REALLY unwelcome turn. I often say that losing my baby boy has been the hardest thing, the worst pain imaginable, and it is. But I can only speak for me. This is a part of my story, my journey... It is the hardest and most painful piece of my life to date. I hope it is the most difficult road I will ever have to walk but I know I am not the author of my story. Nor am I able to compare my story to that of another broken person.
Each of our stories are completely unique. Each of our hurts run so deeply. I can not say that the death of my son is the hardest thing anyone could ever live through, that would be ignorant. It is MY hard, not yours. Your fight may be far worse. The hand you've been dealt may be infinitely harder than mine. I don't know because we each own our individual experiences. All I can say is that I hope you never have to know this particular brand of hurt and if you share it with me, I'm so very sorry.
Sometimes I feel very lost in this big world of various kinds of pain. I wish I could re-write my story. If yours is hard I'd like to re-write yours too to spare us both the pain. But I'll tell you something, it's cliché but it's the truth... There is beauty in the breaking. The kind of beauty that can only come from being on your knees looking up to the only One who can mend your broken. And oh how He mends. The shaping of our souls is so painful but you find gentleness in His hands.
Most days I truly have no answers except the only one that matters. God loves me, and he loves you, even when that love really freaking hurts. So if your story hasn't gone the way you would have written it, hey, I get it. Mine either. You're not alone. Our hurts are not the same but if we let Him shape us they will bring about the same kind of beauty... The ugly kind. It's a thing and it is so powerful. God is always reaching out his hand for us to take a hold of. But sometimes God's hand looks like a very ordinary person sharing the hard parts of their life so that another person can latch onto it and realize we aren't ever alone. And although we've got nothing figured out we can trust in the One who does. Draw close to Him and He will draw close to you... and your story might draw someone else to Him too.