I woke up this morning in a fog of sadness. I’ve been on the verge of tears basically since I opened my eyes. There doesn’t seem to be a particular reason - its always the same reason - for that trembling in your lip when you just want to cry. It’s just another day without my son; the same reason that every day has a cloud over it. Grief is a nasty thing. It surprises you when you least expect it. It hits you all at once on some days and in what seem like small needle pricks on other days. I miss my precious baby every day but some days it just hurts so much more. Some days, I don’t want to be nice to anyone. I don’t want to be happy in my life. I just want to be sad because George Mason should be here. I should be taking him to the park with his big sister. I should be documenting his first smiles and giggles. I should be watching Audrey’s every move so she doesn’t literally love him to death. I should be doing so many things because that’s what you expect when you have a baby. I SHOULD have my son but I don’t. Jesus does. And that’s the most wonderful and awful thing at the very same time.
I was reading an article this morning about God and our anxiety. It basically reminded me that even though today is a hard one, God has never failed to show up. In fact, not only has He never failed, but he shows up in the most wonderfully specific, just when you didn’t know you needed Him, I can’t go another and be reminded of all that God has done/given/comforted in regards to my anxiety and heartbreak. “If you begin to spend even fifteen seconds gazing into your own past, it will begin to sparkle with ten thousand mercies reflecting off the waves of those memories (Lam 3:22). The sea of past grace dwells here, and welcomes us to come and drink, and remember as often as we need to. You could easily spend a week reliving and remember God’s many special provisions that came later than you wanted, but at just the right time.” I feel like since all of this happened I’ve spent so much time figuring out what my new future looks like that I’ve forgotten to really pay attention to how steadfast God has been in my today. I want so badly to know what comes next and why all of this happened the way it happened. I don’t want to dwell on the past or even the present because it seems so damn hard. I just want God to give me the answers; give me the black and white, God, and THEN I’ll be happy.
Except that’s the biggest lie I can tell myself. Happiness isn’t going to come from earthly answers. God knows that. Besides, at the end of the day, happiness isn’t really what I want anyway, and God knows that too. True joy, now that is the most precious gift, and that is ONLY going to come from God. In fact, Christ is the ultimate source of joy and when I “gaze into” my past, I can see that so clearly. The curse of sin is the reason any of us experiences death. No one expects to bury their children, especially not their infant children, because we know that deep down this isn’t how its supposed to be. The Bible is full of passages that remind me of that. Passages that point all of God’s kingdom to the hope of Christ. I’m having a bad day. They happen. God isn’t going to give up on me today and I’m incredibly thankful for that. I guess as I continue to fight back and through these tears, I’m going to be more intentional about looking back. I’m going to fill my wandering mind with the faithfulness of my God and pray that I would continue to look to Jesus when my heart feels anxious. When my desire to know the future gets in the way of my today, I want to run to Jesus. When my salty tears are the filter through which I’m experiencing today, let me cry out for Jesus.
For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us. For the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the sons of God. For the creation was subjected to futility, not willingly, but because of him who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to corruption and obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God. For we know that the whole creation has been groaning together in the pains of childbirth until now. And not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies. For in this hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what he sees? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience. -Romans 8:18-25