Weary

It appears my sorrow has no end.  My miscarriage is still raw and fresh in my mind.  Last night, a dear friend passed away suddenly and unexpectedly.  He was a good, godly man who I respected, an elder in my church, who was also a husband, father and teacher.  As I cried thinking of his wife, his three children, his students, Tiger came to me to tell me that he wasn't feeling well.   The wound from his surgery has reopened; he is running a fever and I brought him back to the doctor, who tells me it is infected and we probably need surgery again.

I am overcome with grief, with sorrow, with pain.  Being a Christian doesn't protect me from hurting.  In fact, Psalm 119:28 says, "My soul is weary with sorrow; strengthen me according to your word."  Lord, I have never felt so tired in my life.  I feel like my heart is breaking every second of the day; every time I turn around, I am faced with more bad news.  A friend's mom diagnosed with breast cancer; a person losing their home; a friend of Missy's dying in his sleep, at only 19 years  old!  Epilepsy, autism, SO MUCH PAIN, and I wonder how many hits I can take.  My favorite part of the day is when I go to bed, and when I wake, I fear who is going to tell me the next bad thing.   I wonder if I could ever run out of tears, and then I think of my friend's wife who suddenly has no husband to be by her side, and I sob all over again. 

When Bucket was little and we were going through the trials of autism, people would tell me how strong I was.  And I was smug about it.  I was like, "I sure am."  And in my own head, I suppose I thought I was better than all those people who "couldn't handle a kid like that."  But the truth is, I am not strong at all.  I am so very, very weak.  I am supposed to find my strength in Him, and I do.  But honestly, I want to do things myself.  Sometimes that independent streak causes me quite a bit of strife.  But Lord, I am listening to you now, and I am trying so very hard to be dependent on You, not me.  Thank goodness you are a Daddy who lets me try again and again, because You love me so.  I keep going back to that word.  Daddy.  Just like I wanted my Daddy when Fergus left me, I still feel like a little girl who wants to curl up in the lap of her father to be comforted.  Human daddies failed me, but He never has.  He never, ever has.