Sometimes... I'm numb other times the emotions are so overwhelming I want to fall to the floor and feel no more. I can picture Jack sitting on the floor playing with his toys, I can see his baby soft skin growing. Some days he's still a baby and others he is eight or nine years old, depending on the unfolding day and the changing events. I will always and forever watch him grow in my mind's eye. I want to touch him and hold him and feel his heart beat, proving to me that he is alive. I want to look into his eyes and see him look back and recognize me. But I can't... I can't see his eyes anymore and I can't remember what it felt like to touch him.
I'm entering a new level of grief. A selfish level, one that wants my son back, one that wants to reach up and rob him from heaven and hold him tight in my arms. And I'm ashamed that I could ever want to take that from him. I'm ashamed that God took my blood clots and not his. Why would He spare me and not my son. Why would He make me stay here without Jack. I know in my rational mind that God knows all and that we are a smaller part, of yet a bigger plan. That if God had chose not to heal my body, then the anguish I feel now, would only be passed to another. But in the pain, in the pit of the ache... rational thoughts aren't as clear as I would like. The devil sits over my shoulder and whispers in my weakness, "that it's all a fairy tale. God does not exist you can't depend on Him.Your in this all alone," he says. "No God... especially the one you love, would take your son from you. He would never comfort you through those months only then to say, 'Sorry, your just not good enough to keep my child, so I'm taking him back.'" He continues this charade of lies by taunting me about God's love. He whispers, "doesn't your God say He loves you? Does this feel like love? All those promises written... broken. He doesn't care about you or anyone you love. Why would He put Jack through so much suffering and make you watch? Why would He make you feel so helpless if He loved you? So I'm telling you," he says, "God is not real. This world is meaningless.You can only depend on yourself."
But the devil forgets that I know he would not have the power to whisper in my ear if it weren't for God. He himself would not exist if it weren't for God allowing it. He forgets that I know that nothing befalls the children of God that doesn’t first pass through His hands.
I believe that God is just as alive in me during those moments of fragility as He is when I'm strong. How would we see His face in the darkness if it was never dark? How would we grow in our faith if we didn't fight for it. So I say in return, "Away with you, Satan! For it is written, ‘I will worship the LORD my God, and Him only will I serve." The whispers begin to fade and the heaviness of his dark presence dissipates. The hollowness that filled my heart is now replaced with a fullness that only God Himself could replenish. I feel alive, strong and fully embraced by Christ, prepared and ready for the next assault. Everyday is a battle and everyday with Christ by my side... I will overcome.
I'm entering a new level of grief. A selfish level, one that wants my son back, one that wants to reach up and rob him from heaven and hold him tight in my arms. And I'm ashamed that I could ever want to take that from him. I'm ashamed that God took my blood clots and not his. Why would He spare me and not my son. Why would He make me stay here without Jack. I know in my rational mind that God knows all and that we are a smaller part, of yet a bigger plan. That if God had chose not to heal my body, then the anguish I feel now, would only be passed to another. But in the pain, in the pit of the ache... rational thoughts aren't as clear as I would like. The devil sits over my shoulder and whispers in my weakness, "that it's all a fairy tale. God does not exist you can't depend on Him.Your in this all alone," he says. "No God... especially the one you love, would take your son from you. He would never comfort you through those months only then to say, 'Sorry, your just not good enough to keep my child, so I'm taking him back.'" He continues this charade of lies by taunting me about God's love. He whispers, "doesn't your God say He loves you? Does this feel like love? All those promises written... broken. He doesn't care about you or anyone you love. Why would He put Jack through so much suffering and make you watch? Why would He make you feel so helpless if He loved you? So I'm telling you," he says, "God is not real. This world is meaningless.You can only depend on yourself."
But the devil forgets that I know he would not have the power to whisper in my ear if it weren't for God. He himself would not exist if it weren't for God allowing it. He forgets that I know that nothing befalls the children of God that doesn’t first pass through His hands.
I believe that God is just as alive in me during those moments of fragility as He is when I'm strong. How would we see His face in the darkness if it was never dark? How would we grow in our faith if we didn't fight for it. So I say in return, "Away with you, Satan! For it is written, ‘I will worship the LORD my God, and Him only will I serve." The whispers begin to fade and the heaviness of his dark presence dissipates. The hollowness that filled my heart is now replaced with a fullness that only God Himself could replenish. I feel alive, strong and fully embraced by Christ, prepared and ready for the next assault. Everyday is a battle and everyday with Christ by my side... I will overcome.