JANUARY 02, 2009

I feel like I’m fourteen years old.

I have asked my parents to consider something…something I wanted so badly. Something huge in my adolescent mind…something that my very existence hinged upon at that moment…and they said no. I remember my dad telling me the reasons and yet I don’t remember them. All I remember was the no…and feeling SO hurt. Feeling like my thoughts and feelings didn’t matter. Feeling betrayed by someone I thought loved me and cared about what was important to me. And I told him so. He said he understood if I was mad, but asked me to trust him, that I would understand someday.

Whatever.

There was only one time that I can remember dropping the H bomb for maximum effect: I hate you. It wasn’t true, of course, but there were so few words I had to really express the depth of my disappointment.

He said that was ok. He said he loved me and he understood if I hated him. His shoulders were big enough to handle my feelings. He had a bigger picture and knew I would be ok…that this would not damage me as much as I believed it could.

Did I love my parents? Absolutely. Did I ultimately trust them with my life. Yes…yes, I did. Did I believe they would leave me on my own for being mad…even hating them? No. There is such safety in knowing that we can feel our feelings and hurt our hurts and no one is going anywhere. I suppose that is why our family relationships are so volatile sometimes…when there is no fear of abandonment we can take each other for granted and be careless or thoughtless with our emotions. Yet, at the same time, we need to have the freedom that comes with the safety of true love. Sometimes we need some precious space to sort things out…to hold each other at arm’s length and at the same time know that they are there when we’re ready.

Our life begs the question right now: are we mad at God?

Our Father has decided to answer our prayers in a decidedly different way than we had hoped. It’s crushing. I feel the hurt, even betrayal, I remember feeling back then as a teenager…. Like what I wanted didn’t matter in the scope of his will for Christian. I miss my son so much…every day…and I truly don’t know what to make of so many things I had held onto these past months. Why does God need him anyway? What does it mean that He gave him to us after so many months of trying and praying, just to take him away? Yes, I suppose I am mad. I have so many questions and so few answers. I’m afraid about how to proceed from here…how do I pray? How do I not live in fear each day about losing those I love? How can I ever trust Him again? Sometimes the feeling is so overwhelming that I can feel it welling up in me…I can almost say it, but never quite get it out: I…hate…you…for doing this to us….

I can’t say it because it isn’t true, of course. I hate the hurt. I hate not feeling my son with me everyday. I hate the fear. I hate the insecurity.

That is ok…my Father has big shoulders. He created me and my feelings and won’t condemn me for them. He loves our son…even more than we do. Most of all, He has the bigger picture. We don’t know the answers to the whys today, but maybe someday we will. We’re not going anywhere, but yes, it’s hard. Walking away would be even harder, though. We need Him now just as we’ve needed him all along. So in my adolescent way of being mad and yet still needing to love and trust, I may need to take some space…to hold myself at arm’s length…to be mad…and yet to be able call Him and know He’s there. And He will be. Thank God.