Tuesday, December 8, 2009

The Gamut of Emotions

Blogging in the midst of a trial is an interesting undertaking. For an internal processor, my style comes out through a long, thought out process. I internalize much and only those closest to me see me laid bare. My emotions have run the gamut since this trial began, from misery to hopeful, groaning to praise, anger to laughter, crying, and then more crying. My blogs end up becoming much more refined than these raw emotions. The words I write speak the truth of what is in my heart and mind, but the audience misses out on the unrefined me.

Last night would be a moment typical of what I would leave out of my writing. My morning started at 5:30 and I didn't go to sleep until 11:30 that night. It was a long day. For the most part, the day was good. At times I do have a hard time focusing on the work at hand as my mind turns to the future and what is in store for us. But I did feel like I was able to accomplish a few things. However, as the day wore on, I felt like I was turning more inward and self-focused. I began to feel as if no one could understand the depth of the pain I was experiencing - the lostness I felt. That every time I hear something about a baby, I can't help but be drawn to what it will be like to hold my dying son or daughter in my arms, wholly unable to do anything to bring life to the little lungs, heart, mind, body. Its just not right. It is ingrained in a father to lay down his life for his family - especially for the weakest of the family. The fact that I have no power to bring life to this child makes me angry.

The loneliness in these thoughts can be unbearable sometimes without something to draw you out. God led me to pick up my guitar and I kept playing this melody over and over again.  I don't know what it is, but I just felt like some of my anger was expressing itself in this little, repetitive tune which my fingers kept plucking out.

I came home to my wife after this long day. She is an incredible woman. Her faith is strong. Her boldness for truth permeates her life. She knows how to stand in God's might. I am humbled by her hope and her faith. She will probably laugh at these remarks and might say, "Yeah right", for she knows, as well as I do, that her weaknesses are far too many at times. But I can't get over her resilience and steadfast grip on the reality of this trial and the reality of hope. She allows me to grieve through this trial the way I need to grieve - with all of its angst and mourning and encouragement and tears. She doesn't presume. She doesn't place unrealistic expectations on me. Last night she listened to me in my anger towards this trial, anger that quickly turns to tears. Tears that eventually fade away as my eyelids close and I fall fast asleep, resting assured that somehow, we're going to get through this and somehow, God put the two of us together for very special reasons, one of which we experience now as we cling to each other in this sometimes seemingly lonely journey.

The morning brought new mercies, as faithful as the sun rising. I was fine again, made whole, encouraged, sad, but hopeful. A new day.  Jesus... thank You.

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