Monday, October 25, 2010

Not a Trial

Someone well meaning whom I respect a lot but don't know that well, came over today with lunch for us.  She shared a lot about her own recent trials which include financial worries, chronic pain, caring for quite a few children, and general depression perhaps brought on by all of the above.  She shared about how God had comforted her through other people, through a prophetic vision, and how I might want to take walks while listening to worship music.  That had helped her.

Even though this friend has such a gentle spirit and shared with the best intentions, as she spoke, I felt nothing but anger inside.  And I thought- wow, I must really be pissed at God- even though I didn't think I was.

And I basically told her, "Look, I've been depressed, I've had chronic pain, but this is different.  My husband is dead.  In the Bible it says there's a time for mourning- and that's what this is.  I don't expect to feel "better" for a long, long time, and this sadness will never completely go away."  Something like that.  I hope I didn't offend her, but maybe I'm not even willing to receive comfort yet.  Maybe it's there, but I just don't want it yet.  But mostly, what I want is not God- but Dan.  I'm sure God's love would be a comfort and I'm sure his strength can get me through some hard times- but what I want is Dan.  Am I like a two-year old- like my daughter- having a tantrum?  Maybe a little bit.  She doesn't forget- even distraction doesn't work as well anymore and if I tell her, "You can hang upside down first thing in the morning, not now - it's bedtime," you can bet she'll remember the second I enter her room tomorrow.

Another friend who chatted with me last night asked me if I had hope- so I've been thinking a lot about that.  What does that mean to ask me right now if I have any hope?  Hope of what?  Of experiencing joy again in this life?  Of not feeling this sorrow and soreness of spirit each day?  Of seeing my husband ever again?  The light for that last one is not yet snuffed out, but I'd say that's the only hope that really interests me.  Because of time, I'm pretty certain I'll go on and live my life as well as I can for as long as I can so I don't know if I really need "hope" for that.  So what would it mean for me to have hope right now?  The only hope I'm interested in is the one that suggests what we see is not all there is.

Because I am not just a woman who lost her husband in the world.  This is not a trial.  I wish words could do justice to say what a completely different reality I am in now- what a strange perception I have.  But they fail me here. All here feels so very temporary now- like a dream and like deja vu- that feeling you get when you recognize the scene or actions as if you've already dreamt it or done it in the past- but for me now- it is reverse deja vu.  I anticipate recognizing something that lies ahead.  I will know it then.

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