March, 2009.
Tears pour down my face.
Breath coming in deep gulps, heart pounding.
Fingers grasping a boulder, shoes kicking shale as I push to
the mountain top.
I drop to my knees in the sunshine, cold wind nipping my
cheeks as I cry out to God. My soul in
torment, battling anger, bitterness, betrayal and pain, and all I can do is cry
and ask God, “Why? How could you let
this happen to me? Betrayed by the ones I love the most.” Then an image burned into my mind: him, my
Lord and Savior, fighting in my stead.
Wrestling with the enemy, full contact, one-on-one on my behalf.
My fingers tear apart a piece of grass as my mind whirls
with the image.
August, 2009.
Tears pour down my face.
Fingers grip the wheel tightly.
Water in my eyes making the headlights shimmer in the night.
“Why didn’t you take me in that car crash that night? Why am I still here? Why can’t I go home with you?” My voice falls flat in the empty car. How easy it would have been to die in that
wreck. One wrong turn and I would have
gone head-on into that semi. Instead in
a ditch, car gone but still alive, no damage done to my body but my heart still
in pain. How I long to go home
Father. “Take me home!” I demand desperately.
Instead I am still here.
May, 2010.
Tears pour down my face.
My bare feet pound on the pine needles, fleeing the prayer
circle.
The niche in the woods, no one will find me, no one will
hear me.
Wooden benches and a wooden cross hear my doubts and
fears. “You gave me the picture of
rain! What happened? Do I even hear your voice?” Finger reach into the clay, grasp a piece of
rock. Rock meets tree bark as hard as my
arm can throw it. At that moment the
tree was God, who stood in my presence aloof and silent. “How do I know the truth? You better show me where there was rain
today, or you better MAKE IT RAIN!”
Drops fall on my head, and I fall on my knees.
Those are the times I fall silent, I say as Job said:
“Behold, I am of small account; what shall I answer you? I lay my hand on my mouth. I have spoken once, and I will not answer;
twice, but I will proceed no further.”
Job 40:4-5
Who am I, that you love me still? That you tolerate my anger and blasphemy and
return it with kindness? I am your
daughter. Thank you Daddy. Sometimes I should just take Job’s advice and
shut up.
