Aside

sacred tears.

Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding.
Even as the stone of the fruit must break, that its heart may stand in the sun, so must you know pain.
And could you keep your heart in wonder at the daily miracles of your life, your pain would not seem less wondrous than your joy;
And you would accept the seasons of your heart, even as you have always accepted the seasons that pass over your fields.
And you would watch with serenity through the winters of your grief.”

Khalil Gibran
. . . . .

Whenever I’m dealing with something difficult I think of Job, and how the Bible says that when he found out everything precious to him was gone…

“..he fell to the ground in worship.”

Yeah.

So, I end up feeling like a failure of a Christian because that’s not at all how I tend to react to bad news.

34 days ago I lost something incredibly, beautifully, absolutely, sacredly precious to me.  My daughters.  Gone, from my life, just like that.  My response towards God this past month has been falling to the ground and screaming…

WHAT IS YOUR EFFING PROBLEM?!!???!”

Except I use the real words with God, because I believe with my whole whole heart that I am not too much for Her.  I believe with my whole heart that He wants the real me.. even when I am an angry, broken, ugly crying, ugly swearing mess.

On my birthday there were many people who included that verse “He will give you the desires of your heart” in their birthday wishes for me.  Thank you, dear ones, really.  But on that day my reaction to that verse was just ”bullshit.”

It hurts, you see.  And it sucks to feel so betrayed by The One who underneath all of this I really do love so fiercely.

Last night I was crying to my friend Becka, and I said “I don’t know how I’m ever going to get over this.” and she said something brutal but true and beautiful, she said, ”I don’t think we get over things like this, I think we get through them, but it takes a long time.”

I told Claire that I feel so broken, but I know someday the pieces will come back together again.  And she said something brutal but true and beautiful, she said, “yes, but in a different shape.”

I’m letting myself live through this mourning, because I think that’s really the only way I’ll be able to heal.  I’m not putting pressure on myself to just get over it already, because I just can’t.. so why fake it?

The more I write the more I’m starting to really feel that in a way, me falling to the ground and swearing at God is actually my way to worship right now.  He wants the real me, She wants the real you, we are not too much for Her.  And if all we can do for awhile is lay on the bathroom floor crying and being honest and genuine and vulnerable with Him about how fucked up life feels.. I think that’s an offering in itself.  It’s an offering that says, I hate You but I still want You.  You’ve shattered me into pieces but I trust You’ll bring me back together.  Your plan SUCKS but I’ll stick with You anyway.”

I believe with my whole heart that God meets us exactly where we are, exactly as we are.  We are never too much, and we are never not enough. We are simply His, and Her love is saying, “Just come here, now, just please come here. Bring your anger, bring your curses, bring your grief… I can take it.  I want to take it, just please come here.”

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