Let me start by stating that I might regret putting this out there. What I am about to post is a recent entry from my journal and it wasn't intended to be seen...just between me and God. However, I feel like we have a tendency to not show our true selves on the internet and it's for a good reason. There's too much vulnerability, too much risk of exposure to ridicule, judgement, or being misunderstood. However, I have come to realize just how taboo the topic of losing a child can be. People aren't chomping at the bit to open up about this deep hurt. So, the typical responses to the questions from friends and loved ones are superficial, at best. Sometimes they are an outright lie. That's right...sometimes I lie.
I've been told that I'm strong and my faith has inspired others, but let me be very honest: today, and for the last 8 months, my faith has been on shaky ground. Most of the time I feel like I'm hanging by a thread.
Here's my journal entry from a couple of weeks ago:
This has been the hardest year of my life and other than our little blog, I've kept most of my prayers and concerns bottled up deep within my soul - too afraid to say them aloud, write them down, or whisper them in a prayer. Zephaniah 3:17 says that you rejoice over me and that you are mighty save. The question stings as I read this passage: why did you choose not to save Thatcher? Was I the one that needed saving? I prayed and cried over that child more than I did for any of my other children. At this moment all the scriptures regarding your purposes and plans seem cliche. My soul needs healing from the gaping wound that his passing left. I wanted him to stay so badly and instead I'm left questioning your plans and goodness.
I'm so grateful that God can take my questions, doubt and anger because I've been full of all of them lately. I know that we live in a broken world that is full of death, sickness, and hurt. However, this just isn't an adequate explanation for my soul right now.
I pray that others that are dealing with grief can feel safe enough to open up to those around them. Grief is a treacherous road that God did not intend for us to walk alone.
