Trust
I haven't written anything in over a month. That feels crazy and forgien to me now since, for the past two years I have written every single day. But lately, I haven't wanted to write. It's been more than two years since I held my son. Two years since I felt his hugs. Two years of living with searing pain and despair while simultaneously striving to live my best life.
What is my "best life" when one of the best parts of it is gone?
I think I was throwing the adult version of a toddler tantrum. I was doing the exact opposite of what I needed to do to prove just how much I don't want to do the thing I needed to do. Much like a three year old will fight bedtime when all he needs is sleep to feel better.
I realized as I was packing for our yearly "Deral trip" that I was angry. So very angry. Not the loud kind of angry where things are thrown and broken. But the silent anger. The anger so deep that there are no words, just disappointment. I folded clothes and packed my toiletries and realized I wasn't writing because I had given up.
I had given up on the promises Jesus made to me. I gave up on the need to do hard work and resigned to sitting in my grief and allowing it, wanting it to consume everything I had left.
I didn't want to seek hope. I didn't want to find joy or peace. I wanted to feel the feeling of broken and I wanted to stay that way. I am broken. My heart was shattered the day I sang "You Are My Sunshine" while my sweet boy drifted from this life into the next.
Car rides are hard for me. Lots of time to sit and think. Usually I try to fill that time with books or games or conversation. But this trip, this trip is hard on all of us. We don't want to talk. We are all aware of our attempt to leave the world where Deral isn't and enter a world where we can see the whisper of his life. But we all know going into this trip it's not going to feel good, at least not all good.
So we sit, starting out the window watching the low, bare hills of Phoenix gracefully morph into mountains full of pines and red rock of Northern Arizona. We all, in our own ways, tame the emotions threatening to flood the truck. Each one of us feels the oxygen pulling away and our breaths come in short and quick.
"Where are you now? Lord, I need you. You seem so far."
Bones and I did our best to paint a brave face for our kids, but when Creek speaks of his Bubba, we both struggle to keep it together. What do you say to your baby when there is no fixing his pain?
I let out a silent scream in my head. Begging Jesus to fill our hearts and minds with Him. Pleading that He lessens this burden. Demanding that He comforts my babies and speaks to our family!
With tear filled eyes I stared out the windshield. I was defeated. How could there be good when there felt like nothing good was left?
Our truck past a wildfire. It was consuming everything in its path, destroying everything living. Hotshot crews were meticulously attempting to contain the flames, just like were attempting to tame the flames threatening our hearts.
Then I saw it!
A gift from God.
Water pouring from heaven on the hottest fire.
Cooling the searing, white hot inferno of our souls.
A semi truck. With the word "TRUST Isaiah 40:31" written on the back.
The Lord gave us that scripture before, during and immediately after Deral died. He spoke that verse over our family through gifts, books, family, friends and now a truck!
He first gave us that truck just one month after the accident during a trip to California (another attempt to find whispers of Deral). I had the same battle waging, the same furnace blazing in my heart that day too. I was facing the same cliff edge crumbling under my feet.
I couldn't speak. Pointing out the window, my family quickly realized what we were seeing.
It was our beacon of hope. It was Jesus.
"but those who trust in the LORD will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint."
I wish I could say we mounted our wings and soared like eagles. I wish I ran through those burning hills and never tired. But I didn't. We did, however lean in. I felt, for the first time in a long time, the closeness of the Lord. I felt the renewed promise of hope and the everlasting love of my Creator.
So today I am writing again. I am writing so that I can remember to trust in the One that moves the mountains. I am writing so I can see the miracles playing out all around me. I am writing so I can see the Father, who may not protect us from the flames but stands firm in them with us. I am writing because that's what Jesus told me to do. It doesn't always feel good, or like I want to, but He IS good and will always rescue, we just have to turn to him, accept His ways as the best ways and TRUST.