|And He said to them, 'My soul is sad, even unto death.'|
Friday, February 24, 2012
'When sorrows come, they come not single spies,
but in battalions.' ~William Shakespeare
I don't think I can pretend anymore that I am well. I really have tried to fake it these last few days, but I am so not well. I've hit the bottom of rock bottom and, as Sylvia Plath says 'I simply cannot see where there is to get to...'
I cannot sink any deeper, I cannot fall any farther. I have prayed ten thousand prayers or more. I have hoped, and held on to the tiniest slivers of hope. I've not given up when others far more brave than I have said they would quit. But I just can't seem to catch a break. My heart is shattered.
I just can't seem to turn off my heart, and my heart hurts. It hurts for so many things...
It feels a terrible grief for the years and years of Anya waiting. My sweet, loving, big-hearted girl still sitting there and hoping for a day I now am convinced will never come.
My heart feels the darkest, hollowest loneliness for the children at orphanage #5. I have had to stop thinking of them, calling them, because I can't handle the pain and tears. Do you know what it's like to know girls who are now prisoners in the world of prostitution? Girls I gave gifts to and hugged and expressed care for? Do you know what it's like to hear of boys who hanged themselves ? Boys who once traipsed around the village with me all those years ago? I cant bear the thought of them anymore. I just cant hold those images in my head or heart for one minute more. It will kill me.
And my heart shatters when I think of Daniel. Daniel who expected to be home by now. Daniel who could be here now, if it weren't for my horrible luck. Let's not mince words -- I am a walking testament to BAD LUCK. No one even gets how sick and distraught I feel every single day he is there and not here. No one even asks.
And, if those were not enough, my heart is crushed into dust by the sickening suspicions of my brothers...brothers I thought were my family and loved me. Brothers who took the time to imagine the worst of their sister, though they never seemed to have the time to reach out to her. I don't know how I'll ever heal from their deceit and backstabbing. Their words won't leave my head...I'm 'an embarrassment', a 'hypocrite', I'm a 'psychologically manipulative princess' ...should I go on?
Imagine hearing these words from people you thought loved you. Imagine taking the risk of sharing your honest and uncensored pain, your struggles with God, your worries about your daughter, your fears and longings here on this blog, hoping to help others, hoping to make a difference in the world...only to hear that someone else, someone you trusted, sees your words as 'drivel' and a 'tired old narrative" and "BS"?
Sometimes I don't want to be here anymore. I'm sorry to share that, but I promised I'd always be brutally honest here, and that's about all I have left these days -- my courage to speak my own truth.
Here's my truth: I'm in terrible, horrible, unspeakable pain that I cannot possibly relay to you in words. I feel bereft, abandoned, unloved and so, so grief-stricken.
But thankfully, here's an even bigger truth: I know, somehow, inside and far beyond this pain that my God loves me. And me? I love God with as much of my heart, soul, mind and strength as I can muster. I dare say I love my daughter even more (just being honest.) I love a great many people in this world and have tried to stand by them and I have been a shoulder to cry on for far too many to count. I pray, I give, I love...and yet I stand here, on this day, as sad and grief-stricken as I have ever experienced in my 46 years of life.
Please don't tell me I just need to pray harder, or try this thing or that, and all this darkness will go away -- my jobs will return, my body will heal, Anya will be on my doorstep, Daniel in my arms, all the children I care about will be miraculously loved and adopted, my brothers will repent the things they have said and done, the bills will unpile, the hurt will unravel, the pain will lift up ,up and away, and all will be well in my world. It won't. It's here, it's all here. And it's here until God wills it away.
Today I sat in my car and cried so hard and so long that I suddenly couldn't breathe. My throat snapped shut. (It does that sometimes. Doctor calls it laryngospasm) This experienced used to terrify me, but this time, strangely, I felt peace. I think I felt like if it was my time, I was ready. Part of me just felt it was better to 'not be' anymore. Even Christ felt that level of sadness, in the Garden of Gethsemane. It's some comfort to know our God knows this pain intimately.
I'm sure there are plenty of you reading this that have felt this level of despair. We just don't talk about it. No one does, but we should. Millions of people live in this level of despair every day of their lives. Do you see in the news what horror goes on in the world? The poverty, the wars, the brutality even against defenseless children? The indifference? The lack of love so glaringly obvious everywhere? No wonder. No wonder a million people take their own lives each year. A Million. And, honestly, if I didn't have my faith, I'd be part of that statistic by now. Sorry to destroy anyone's image of me, but I'd rather speak the truth than hide behind even a half-truth when the world is as heartbroken and in need of truth as it is.
And, by the way, this does not make me an 'unbeliever', as one self-righteous person called me once when I tried to share my deep grief. How dare they? Because I'm brave enough to share my pain, I'm suddenly unworthy of my faith? How naive of them. How backwards. How unholy. I learned long ago that life is not mine to take. But until you have been in this darkest of places, you cannot possibly judge my experience. I would not wish this darknness on anyone. Be glad, be grateful if you do not understand what I am talking about. You are truly infinitely blessed in your not knowing.
So the next obvious question is: What am I holding onto? How am I choosing life when life feels this bad? How do I make that choice, every day, to be present in this amount of pain and not die or go insane?
I humbly, and with a child's trust, hold onto this...
Job said, '
Posted by Keri at 12:27 AM