Broken Hallelujah
The following post was written 6 days before my brother passed away. I couldn't find the nerve to post it then... but I have decided to post it now. My feelings and beliefs in this post are in the past tense... as I now live in the new reality of a life absent of my beautiful brother, Justin.
When I first started this blog, I was in the midst of building a beautiful life with my husband. We had just moved into our gorgeous first home and bought our sweet puppy, Remy. Jon and I had come through the harder part of the heartbreaking news that we would need to adopt, and we were beginning the process to meeting our first child. I began this blog and I knew I had at least 5 posts about my past that would lead me to diving deeper into my present. However, I did not know what was in store in the weeks to come.
When I tried to write my next post about my past, I kept coming up short and distracted. When someone you love becomes very ill, everything else seems to fade away. You become completely focused on that one area of your life. You use every ounce of your remaining energy to push through functioning at work or in public. All of the things that you would normally obsess over or hold as important take a back seat. And though I still have a story to tell, it is hard for me to speak about myself in the past tense while living in this reality. This post is not about the intimate details of a story that is not mine to tell. This is more of a reflection on what it is for me to walk through these darker days.
My husband showed up on a Tuesday and took me back to a room. I still remember his face and calm tone as he told me the news of the mass on my brother's liver. He was so strong as I began to crumble.. and then he drove me to the hospital to be with my family. For weeks my pillow was never dry. I was frayed and exhausted. People would ask me if I was sleeping... and I found that odd because... I slept... A LOT. It was the one place I could go where this wasn't happening. Every time I would wake up, I quickly remembered my new reality. A few tears would escape and I'd close my eyes to keep them in and fade back to sleep. But soon enough, it all crept in to my dreams and turned them into nightmares. I couldn't escape what was happening. Not even in my sleep.
Reality was cruel and I desperately searched for clarity and understanding of God... from God. But I found little comfort there. I began to realize God was revealing Himself in small ways to me and my family. In the midst of our suffering, I can feel the prayers from our family and friends covering me as I walk through each day. His hands carrying my family and I. He kept showing up...even when I didn't expect Him to. In ways that let us know He hears our desperate cries and deepest fears. So, I stopped searching for understanding and I prayed that we would continue to feel held by a loving Savior. That each day He would make it known that He walks before us.
In the beginning I felt as though I could not pray for a miracle. Miracles were for the foolish or for people with a grand faith. Neither of which I classified myself. I quickly realized how blessed my life had actually been up to this point. Sure- in the past I had desperately prayed for people's healing. I had prayed for peace. But a miracle? It always seemed like a bit of magic I would never get the chance to see. So that first week I more or less talked to God about how I didn't feel as though I could pray for a miracle. Until I found myself talking to a 7yr old... She asked me if a miracle could happen. I told her I didn't know. It seemed like such an odd thing for her to ask and then she said "Because you don't have much experience with miracles." I laughed a bit because I knew in that moment God was telling me... PRAY FOR THE MIRACLE. So I pray. As I am. Neither foolish nor grand. I pray for the miracle. And I worship. In the midst of my anger... I praise a Sovereign God. In the midst of the suffering... I lift my hands. Through my anguish... i cry out "Hallelujah"
This past Sunday, Jo Saxton spoke at our church. Her message was about how God desires to tend to our wounds and our weariness. To go deep into the less attractive parts of our soul. For a long time I have had a hard time believing that God cares about the details of my life. My heart had grown weary. As Jo said.. I was "tired of the disappointment and the disappoint was eroding (me) and the songs were getting harder to sing and the prayers were getting harder to pray" but..she said.... "Into that, Jesus comes to wash our feet"
This devastation is deeper than anything I have walked through before... and I needed... NEED God to find me here. I do not know what the future holds. Each day presents a new challenge. More heartache. I am scared. I am broken. But no matter how we walk out of this chapter... it will be clear. God was here... tending to our wounds. Our weariness. Washing our feet.
