We spend… too little time experiencing the griefs themselves. The result is that these griefs remain hidden and never open us to our joys. ~David Whyte as quoted in God in the Yard.
Branches litter the yard from yesterday’s wind, and leaves block the garage door. A political sign lies in the side yard.
The morning is gray and misty, and I am on the porch.
The birds are strangely silent except for a jay’s squawk from the woods on my left and a crow caw from across the field on my right. A lone goose flies overhead.
Dora warms my legs, and Darjeeling warms my hands.
I pick up God in the Yard, curled and bent.
Chapter 4–Weep: Celebration.
I’ve read this chapter many times.
I’d prefer to stay on chapter 3 (Contemplation) or move on to chapter 5 (Gratitude).
I do not want to do this.
I do not want to go there.
Because it’s a grief that tortures me.
Shreds my heart.
Smothers me.
It’s a giant thorn that stabs deep.
It was a time of chaos and fear and desperation.
And me gasping.
Panting for relief.
For peace.
For all of us.
On my knees.
A huge sacrifice for one I love desperately. One living in desperation.
“Lord, I am willing. Whatever it takes. If this is wrong, slam the door.”
He did not.
And peace reigned.
But an outward peace.
A false peace.
From a false light.
From a wolf in sheep’s clothing.
Silly woman!
Foolish woman!
Truth revealed.
Pain unbearable.
Alone. Heart littered with brokenness.
It had happened before.
But justice was not served.
And we were not warned.
And we sought justice.
And justice was served.
At a price.
I wept not for me but for another.
I was so mad at God.
I yelled at God.
I beat His chest while He held me.
He knew.
He knew and did not protect.
He knew and did not provide.
He knew and did not care.
It might have happened anyway.
It might have been worse.
Perhaps I did not have control after all.
He. Is. Sovereign.
Over all.
He creates the most beauty from the most broken.
He knew.
He cared.
He cares.
He brings all things together for good.
In His time.
I crawl into His lap and whimper.
And He brushes the damp hair from my cheek.
And He whispers, “I know. I was there. I am here.”
He knows my heart.
And it is enough.
He is enough.
And I celebrate.
Linking today with Bonnie at the Faith Barista as she asks, “How Am I Hearing From God?” (Although this may better fit next week’s topic, “Shaking Off Feelings of Guilt.)
Also sharing in Emily’s Imperfect Prose on Thursdays where broken writers spill their crumbs.
Karen Lange says
October 28, 2010 at 3:15 pmHe is all we need. I know sometimes it takes me longer to remember and rest in this…Glad you shared this.
Sandra says
October 29, 2010 at 2:13 pmHugs to you, my garden friend.
Melissa Campbell says
October 28, 2010 at 3:32 pmEverything good is opposed. And when the trials come He comes too, sometimes carry us through. Sometimes to give us grace to face and fight and defeat the giants in our lives. I don’t know the depth of your pain, but I know He has met me in mine, and brings healing. He is good! Blessings on your journey. 🙂
Sandra says
October 29, 2010 at 2:12 pmHe *is* good. And what we see and experience is just a speck in the overall plan. Thanks, Melissa. Glad you are here.
L.L. Barkat says
October 28, 2010 at 4:23 pmA hard one. Truly hard.
Sandra says
October 29, 2010 at 2:10 pmHard–yet held.
brian says
October 28, 2010 at 5:05 pmwhew. brutal. sad. redeemed.
he is enough.
Sandra says
October 29, 2010 at 2:09 pmIndeed.
S. Etole says
October 28, 2010 at 5:42 pmit’s a hard place to come to …
Sandra says
October 29, 2010 at 2:09 pmAnd sometimes it’s the hard that softens.
Megan Willome says
October 28, 2010 at 6:09 pmA powerful illustration of how poetry can speak where prose cannot. Blessings to you as you weep in His arms.
Sandra says
October 29, 2010 at 2:14 pmThanks so much, Megan. Joy comes in the morning. 😀
Toni Birdsong says
October 28, 2010 at 9:56 pmThat was absolutely beautiful. I loved every word. Read it three times and it meant something different to me each time. Haunting. Beautiful. REAL.
Sandra says
October 29, 2010 at 2:16 pmToni, your smile just lights up my space. Thank you for shining.
Susan J. Reinhardt says
October 28, 2010 at 10:25 pmHi Sandra –
Living in a fallen world brings much pain. Free will, unsubmitted to Him, runs amok. Still, He is patient, loving, and forgiving. He untangles our lives, and it sometimes hurts.
Blessings,
Susan
Sandra says
October 29, 2010 at 2:21 pmHe is the great Untangler! 🙂 And the thing is that sometimes, even if our hearts are sold out and we long to do His will, bad things happen. At least from our perspective.
in the hush of the moon says
October 28, 2010 at 11:08 pmthis gutted me. i’ve been there: the doubting. and wondered where he was…
“he creates the most beauty from the most broken.” this breathes courage into my soul, sandra.
we walk blind; he gives us sight. little by little. i’m walking beside you, sister. (a beautiful post…)
Sandra says
October 29, 2010 at 2:22 pmYou know, Emily, every time I revisit this, I gain new insight. I am blessed to walk hand in hand and heart to heart with you.
Sheila Hollinghead says
October 29, 2010 at 9:31 amTouching and a place I have been.
Sandra says
October 29, 2010 at 2:22 pmWe all have in some form at some time, I think. So glad He is there, too.
alittlebitograce says
October 29, 2010 at 2:22 pmHe knew and did not protect.
He knew and did not provide.
He knew and did not care.
i know those feelings too, have beaten against His chest yelling those same words. where is He? thank you for sharing. i have felt so alone in this struggle, in my angst. it helped to know that i’m not. i lifted up a little prayer for you. may you find true peace and healing.
jasonS says
October 29, 2010 at 3:32 pmVery powerful, Sandra. Thank you for sharing it. It’s a beautiful place when all the emotions can give way to a deeper revelation of Who He is…
Faith Barista Bonnie says
November 1, 2010 at 5:59 pmI heard my own voice speaking through every line here, Sandra.
This is an important post — coming deep within you — and it goes deep within us. It’s refreshingly on the edge — where we can see our grief and still fall into grace while reaching for faith.
The questions I have are still there — why didn’t He stop it? Why did He allow it?
And yet, God keeps pouring out goodness – in such contrast. So, my grasp on the bad loosens more every time I dare to trust and dare to taste and dare to believe in His goodness.
Thank you, Sandra, for adding this important post to the jam!
Charissa Steyn says
November 2, 2010 at 5:08 amHi Sandra, Found you today through Faith Barista:) This is a beautiful post full of loaded questions and thoughts of which God is not intimidated by 🙂 He is enough…. ahhh this sounds a little like Job’s struggles. I too can relate. Thanks for sharing your heart !
Glynn says
November 4, 2010 at 1:10 pmBeautiful, Sandra. I think you found what that chapter in the book was leading toward.
Kathleen says
November 4, 2010 at 11:44 pmWhat Bonnie said. Exactly. I read it more than once. It fits us all, I think.
Lyla Lindquist says
November 5, 2010 at 1:14 pmFinally able to get back to this one. You know? I consider sometimes that “He was there,” and sometimes I don’t know what to do with. He was there, and chose not to act. (At least not in the way I would expect – neither I am in control, I see.) He was there, and did not rescue. He was there and did not dispel the dark. He was there, standing still.
That’s sometimes how it looks, and in those moments, quite truthfully, I wonder if I’d like it better to consider that He just wasn’t there. That He was smaller than He is, and couldn’t make it that day. Because I like the idea of “unable” better than “unwilling.” The idea of Him standing still eats me.
Most days, I know He was there and I know what He was doing and it was nothing like standing still. But still, there are those other days…
This piece touches deep, Sandra.
Ann Voskamp@Holy Experience says
November 6, 2010 at 8:44 amHe is enough.
That is all.
Beautiful truth, this… thank you.