I read a blog post a few weeks ago and it tore me open.
All those wounds scratched fresh.
I know there is reason. I know there is purpose in the pain.
But still, some days, it is not enough.
I have scars. I know we all have them. How can we expect to live painless lives, scarred-free hearts when the one good one did not? When the one who was born pure into a world confused in need of saving? How can I expect to not have wounds and scars and a hurt life-lasting when the pure one himself experienced spikes piercing through flesh and ligaments and bones? How can I expect to not hurt when he himself suffocated because of the weight of everyone else's shame?
But still . . .
It hurts. And when it hurts it is so hard to have perspective.
I find it ironic how when you are hurting, others find it necessary to point out that others hurt too. Maybe even more than you. It's that perspective you don't need or want. You don't need it because it diminishes your pain.
You buried two babies. Do you know there was a mother a world away who witnessed her whole family - husband, parents, children - brutally murdered before her? You lost two babies but you still have one living child. Don't you realize that there are people out there who can't even have a child?
Really?! Is that necessary?
I know there are people hurting everywhere. I KNOW this! But it does not make my pain any less. By sharing pain, some think it would subtract yours. It doesn't. Two hurts don't cancel each other out. Hopefully compassion and sympathy are doubled, but it doesn't take away the other's hurt.
It all matters to God. He is omnipresent and omniscient.
He never said, "Look here Stephanie. I know you just buried two of your babies. Two children that you had dreams and hopes for. Two children that you loved beyond measure. Two souls you loved with every cell in your body. Two hearts that you cherished so much, you would have willed your own to stop so that they may live. But you need to buck up. Your pain isn't even really relevant because this person over here in this country just lost her whole entire family and the ability to walk and her pain is just way worse than yours so I don't have the time or the patience to deal with it. In the grand scheme of things, your pain isn't even on the radar."
He never said that because it's not true. It does matter.
My pain matters. My pain matters so much to Him that He is wanting to do something with it.
Even though I know it matters and even though I know there was one sent to bear all scars, I still question.
I still struggle.
Somedays I find peace with knowing that God has purpose for all of this. I find peace with knowing that God is going to use me, through and by this, for something far bigger than I could have dreamed. He's already showing me and teaching me so much.
And somedays, I don't care! Somedays I am so angry! I don't understand!
I want my babies back! I don't care about Your big plans or purpose! All I wanted was to be their mom and to raise them and to watch them grow! I wanted to love them HERE! I didn't ever want to have to love them THERE while I am still HERE!
You could have taught me and showed me and changed me by something else! It didn't have to be through the death of my babies! Anything else would have worked.
Why? Why? Why?
What did I do? Why do I have a piece of scarred earth? Why do I have a family of five with two people constantly missing? Why do I have a three year old daughter who doesn't understand why she can't go to heaven and bring her sisters back? Why do I have a three year old daughter who sometimes is angry with me that she never had the chance to hold her sisters?
Why? Why? Why?
I don't want this! I don't want this ache! I don't want this breath-stealing hurt!
I WANT THEM BACK! GIVE THEM TO ME! GIVE ME BACK WHAT YOU TOOK!
GIVE ME MY BABIES BACK!
The questions . . . the demands . . . He hears. I know He does. Even in the silence . . . I know He does.
Somedays I am at peace knowing that I will see them again. I really am. They have given me purpose to live this one life the best way I can.
Other days, I don't feel its enough. I feel the pain is too great and the time too wide. I want them now.
I don't know what it was about that post. Maybe it was another reminder that everyday, people hurt and everyday, new people are joining in.
Or maybe those words ripped open my wounds and made me wonder . . . would I ever have compassion for these strangers stretched across the earth if my own heart didn't bleed? Would I know? Would I even begin to be able to imagine the pain?
Or maybe it was this, these words towards the end that sat with me and caused me to go back and re-read. Maybe it was the peace and anger dancing together because these words made sense to me.
Life's a piano. And its easy to think that the white keys are pure joy while all the black keys are pure grief.
But the thing is - The black notes can make music too.
The black notes can choose joy too.
The black notes - they are there to sing songs too.