The Ladybug got reprimanded the other night right before bed for picking at her brother. So when we heard her upstairs crying several minutes later, we assumed it was about that. When I went upstairs to say goodnight and address the tears, I found her in bed with a picture of my mom and dad. I calmly started picking up a few things in her room and asked her what was wrong.
She said, “I’m angry. Why did God have to take away my Nana Cindy and Papa Tim?”
I couldn’t breath.
My heart started pounding.
“Oh that I had wings like a dove, for then would I fly away, and be at rest.” (Psalms 55:6)
Does that sound crazy? It’s been six years, after all.
And sometimes I think I’ve finally gained some space, some distance, some perspective on the situation and the loss, some peace…but when someone says their names, any time I have to say their names, any time I have to say words that inevitably indicate that they’re gone…it almost stops my heart.
In my mind, it’s gotten easier to deal with, but it literally takes my breath away to say their names out loud. If I ever mention them to or around you, please feel special. No matter how casual my face may look, it’s taking all my courage and nerves of steel to make my tongue move. It’s as if it all happened only yesterday.
And I’ve spent so much time worrying that fear of that pain would keep them so locked up inside of me that my children, my family, even the rest of the world would miss out on sharing them, and sharing their legacy because I can’t even say their names, much less share about their love and life.
But you see–somewhere in the beautiful mess God’s grace has covered me.
He has made my little into a lot. He has rewarded my tiny, hard-fought moments of courage with abundance. He is feeding the multitudes with my “few little fishes.” (Matthew 15:34)
My children do know them. And miss them. And know that their Nana Cindy and Papa Tim loved them. Loved them fiercely. And are waiting in heaven to see them again.
I sat down on her bed, and took that picture in my shaking hands and told her that I didn’t know why either. I didn’t know why and it hurt. I didn’t know why, and it hurt, and sometimes it made me angry too. But I did know that God has a plan, and that it was all part of His plan, and that His plan is for only good things, and that I believe that with all of my heart–even when it hurts.
Because the Lord has blessed me, over and over again.
He has covered my weakness with His grace.
He has been my refuge and my strength.
“For I know the thoughts that I think towards you, saith the Lord, thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give you an expected end.” (Jeremiah 29:11)