July 4, 2016

I can't do this...

The last few moments of my husband’s life refuse to stop playing in my head.

It’s like a song on repeat.

I can still smell the hospital smells on his skin as I lay next to him. I can see the expression on his face as he slowly slipped away. I can feel his chest rising and falling… and then still. I can hear his last breath, and then, silence.

I can close my eyes and I’m laying next to him in that bed again. Holding his hand. Silently hoping and waiting for a miracle, even though I had thought I didn’t have any hope left.

Every ounce of hope in my veins poured out in those last minutes until it was gone. Until he was gone…

And now. Ever day of my life is measured by that day. At first it was one week, then two. One month, then two.

Every tick of the clock is another measurement of time that passes.

Tick. Tock.

I never imagined what a halting stop my life could come to. People keep saying, “I can’t imagine what you’re going through.” But I bet you can, if you try.

Life just kind of stopped. Suspended in midair. The wind stopped blowing and all is still. That’s kinda how it feels. Like being in the ocean all alone in a raft with no wind to take you anywhere.

It’s a deep and painful loneliness.

Tick. Tock.

But not all stopped. The children keep going. They keep me from staying in bed all day and from getting lost in the deep retreat of my mind.

They get hungry. They make messes. They get bored.

So on we go. My body goes. I can carry on conversations and even laugh at the appropriate times. I make polite small talk with the other moms on the playground and banter with the check-out lady at the supermarket. I know the things to say, so I say them.

But my heart is still lost at sea, and the clock is still ticking.

How much time will pass before I can feel my heart again? How much time until those last minutes stop playing in my mind? How much time?

Please, don’t answer that.

Sometimes, I talk to God about it. Other times, I can’t find any words, only tears. And still yet I cry out to God in pain and anger and confusion.

Every time I am overwhelmed with life and death and fear I cry out to God that I can’t do this. I can’t. I can’t be a single mother. I can’t provide for my children. I can’t do this. Every time, God, in some quiet way, reminds me that I’m right.

I can’t do this.

But I’m the beloved of the One who can help me.

Oh how He loves me. Oh, how He loves me.

My faith didn’t protect me from pain. It didn’t protect my children or my husband. That’s not what faith is for. It’s not a protective measure, rather, it’s the strong line that connects me to God as I walk through this pain. As my children walk through it. As my husband walked through it.

So many people have told me that they were so surprised that Todd died when so many people were turning to God in prayer for him. Todd would have died 100 times to give people the chance to turn to God. This much I know.

God heard those prayers.

He loves Todd so much.

He loves us so much. With every tick of the clock, He loves us.

Someday this will all make sense and we’ll know. But for now, as the wind is still, I will close my eyes and cling to the faith that connects me to God.


Unknown said...

Free fall

It's been a free fall
these last few years
tumbling around
eyes full of tears

blowing in the wind
like a leaf off the tree
no where to go
just living on a breeze

wondering where will I land
where do I belong
how to go on
not feeling strong

waking up mornings
with a weight on my chest
worried fearful lonely
where is my rest

eyes turned inward
can you see my pain
filling me up
its become my refrain

Be – be still
be still and
be still and know
finally I know

It is You who have
carried me where
I belong
You have lifted me up
become my life's song

Your word is for certain
Your promise for real
the gift of Your Son
my brokenness He heals

At last I've found peace
in knowing Your will
letting go of the past
waiting silent and still

I wrote this some months ago...I wish you had an easier path, but we don't get to choose, He does, and He knows what He's doing. Blessings <3

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