If you’ve been around this blog for a while – you probably know that the past two years have been rough for me.
Tear-filled. Pain-FULL. Heart-broken. No tears left. Despondence. No feelings. Desperation. Etc.
I’d be lying if I didn’t say that this road didn’t leave me questioning God on a lot of things. And questioning if I’m even interested in life with Him.
But the past few months, I’ve been doing my best to show up and ask for healing. To ask God to heal these parts of me that hurt so much. To restore feeling where numbness had made a permanent home. Because nothing else has worked.
I didn’t want any more trying to get through one more day.
One morning, I felt like I needed to go there. I had to ask Him the question that I didn’t really want to ask. I was scared of the answer. I was scared He’d be pissed that I asked. I was scared He wouldn’t have an answer.
But I asked it anyway.
“God…um…where were you the past few years? I hate that I’m asking this. I hate that I don’t know. I realize it’s in large part my fault that there was so much distance between us. But to really pour all of me out to You and to be ready to trust You again – I just need to know. Or know that I can ask. I’m not sure which.”
Gently, I felt this still small voice ask me to close my eyes.
Reluctantly, I did so. Even though I was afraid I was about to experience a heavenly lash-whipping leaving me feeling like an ungrateful jerk for even asking and not realizing.
Instead – I saw me.
And I saw Him.
I saw Him crying over me as I lay in my bed sobbing because it hurt to move. And not to move. I saw Him place His hands on me and weep over me.
I saw the ache He had as I lay on the kitchen floor wondering if anyone would find me or if I’d ever be able to get back up and somehow make it over to the couch.
I saw Him holding me the way I would hold my children as I lay there convinced I was about to die.
I saw Him sob as I tried desperately to put one foot in front of the other the night before my diagnosis, “hurriedly” limping through downtown Chicago trying to buy an essential for my sister and brother-in-law’s wedding. I saw Him grieve as I felt so.very.alone in a sea of people. People who didn’t know how much I was hurting. People passing me like I was an annoyance to their day. People who just didn’t see me. But He was there – and He saw me. He grieved for me.
I saw Him in the hospital room the day I thought I’d lose my mom. Every portion of His being in tune with my every move as if He were feeling everything with me – the way I do when my little ones’ are sick.
I saw Him in my house, quietly whispering “I’m here” when I felt abandoned.
I saw Him, arms wrapped tightly around me, keeping me vertical, when I thought I couldn’t do another day.
I saw His tears when I couldn’t manage to read the words to “Go, Dog, Go” and I began to wonder if my mind would ever be normal again. I saw Him reach for me. So that somehow I would know one day I would be okay.
I saw Him fold into our sob-filled hug when I lost it after telling my daughter that I couldn’t play soccer because I couldn’t stand.
I saw Him wrap His arms around me silently. Right beside me on the couch, not saying a word because He knew how wrecked my heart was. He knew words would not, in fact, make anything better in this moment. He sat with me as I sat on my couch flabbergasted that I was pregnant. And without maternity coverage.
I saw Him in the examination room. Within inches of me. Standing there, rubbing my back and doing all He could to let me know I could live another day as I went in once again to see if the sweet baby growing in me was still alive.
He rewrote the story I’d been telling. I laid there sobbing. Seeing. After all this time…
He had been there all along. And He grieved right there with me. He didn’t try to make points or tell me to be better. In every scene He just wanted to hold me tighter, offer more tears for me or somehow carry me through it.
I’m not trying to make a point here. I promise. But I have this sense that maybe somebody reading is there with me. You feel like your story is full of abandon and pain and so.much.awfulness. And maybe God will meet you there and show you where He’s been the whole time. Maybe He wants to show you the whole story. The part you haven’t yet seen. Maybe it won’t be that obvious at first, or maybe it will take a lot longer than you’d like. That’s okay. All I’m saying is, go there. Be willing to confront that broken, ravaged part of yourself that you’d given up on. Its not a lost cause, I promise.