Sunday afternoon...my absolute favorite time of the week...a Mayberry-kind-of-feeling.
We were all in a semi-conscious state after a busy week, so I thought a movie was in order.
Flicking our way through Amazon, we found something that looked interesting...Rabbit Hole. We read the synopsis, pressed Play and off we went.
By the time it was done, there was dead silence. And a desire to weep. And hug someone.
And never let go.
I couldn't stop thinking about it.
And now I really can't.
For later that day I heard that a worship leader from a nearby church, Gentry Eddings, and his family were returning from a wedding when an 18 wheeler plowed into them from behind. Their 2 year old son was killed and his wife, Hadley, 8 months pregnant at the time, was rushed to deliver their baby at a nearby hospital. And it looked like he would make it.
This tragedy put flesh on what Hollywood had only dreamed up.
If I hadn't seen the movie, I don't think I could put my mind around the valley they were entering...the raw pain of what was thrust upon them.
So I prayed. And wept. And thanked God that by His mercy their unborn child would live. That there would be some consolation in this tragedy.
But their unborn son didn't live. They got empty arms. Again.
Was that asking too much for this family?
Ted came upon me as I sat in front of the computer, stunned by the news.
"I hate this world," I mumbled, as I took off in search of a Kleenex.
And I do. It's not the way it's supposed to be.
And it's not God's fault, though many-a-time I have shook my fist at Him, screaming out in lacerated pain, "Was it too hard for You? Too much to ask? You're God, for Heaven's sake!"
I have been walking around in a semi-stupor since then...feeling like I am on a roller-coaster ride I can't get off of...
Like I was blissfully strolling through a fine arts gallery when someone began slashing the paintings with a knife.
It doesn't make sense.
And I don't have answers.
And that scares me.
Because it could happen to me.
No matter how we live. What we do or don't do.
No one escapes this world without loss.
The problem is, I am a Pollyanna-type girl...I want everyone to be happy. I want to believe the best.
Heck, I'm even the one who clicks "Like" on people's photos, not because they are good photos but because they matter to someone, and that person really tried.
But sometimes I can't click "Like". There's no "Like" to click.
This morning I was lying in bed, watching the sun climb above the trees, casting lace shadows over the rumpled bed.
God and I were having it out. We do that. And it's okay.
"I, too, lost a Son."
"I know what it is to lose someone you love."
Right. You had a choice, I replied. You could have spared your Son.
"Not if I loved you."
And that's what I'm holding on to right now.
That God sees. And understands. And feels our pain.
The couple in the Rabbit Hole didn't know that. Maybe they would someday.
But the youth pastor and his wife do. And that is a mercy, at a time when all mercy seems withdrawn.
They will just need to be reminded, day after day, for a very long time.
Pray for them. For all those who have loved and lost.
Immanuel. "God with us".
Through whatever life brings our way.
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