October 4th

I’ve forgotten how to pray. I feel like God hates me. I know He loves me. Maybe one day what I feel and what I know will once again line up.

In some ways I feel this would be easier if I wasn’t a Christian. If I could just blame some callous deity I didn’t really believe in and direct all my pain and hurt in that direction. But the God I am angry with is my God. Though He slay me, yet will I serve Him. I can’t speak to Him at the moment, but I feel Him. He is my comfort and strength. But He is also the source of my pain.

God let my baby die. I don’t know how to process that.

I know the Sunday school answers. I know the platitudes. Sin is the reason bad things happen. We live in a broken world. God weeps with me.

It’s all crap.

Rory is gone.

I can’t reason that away. My feelings refuse to align with what I know to be true. And I’ve decided that for now, that’s perfectly alright. God has big shoulders. He can handle my deep, indescribable sadness and He is not afraid of my anger and confusion. And I am confused. I don’t understand. She was prayed into existence. A miracle baby from the start. She was prayed for during my entire pregnancy. She was prayed for when she born. When she got sick. Right up until she died.

And now people pray for me.

Sometimes I wonder what the point is. As a miracle baby, as a helpless infant who fought so hard, as an answer to prayer, as my deepest dream and most fervent desire come to life, didn’t she deserve to live? Why her? Why us? It would’ve been so easy for God to spare her. To heal her. It would have made perfect sense. My whole world was praying for her, yet somehow that didn’t matter. I’m not saying God didn’t answer some prayers. I’m not saying God didn’t answer all prayers in the end. I’m just still reeling from the fact that He said no.

why say yes in the first place? Why did I receive a miracle with an eighteen day expiration date? Why did my miracle baby suffer more in 12 days than most people will in a lifetime? Why wasn’t she protected? Why wasn’t she spared? Why wasn’t she healed? And why do I think knowing why will make any difference? Rory is gone.

I don’t know how to process that either. My whole body aches. I can almost hear it screaming, “Where is your baby?” She’s gone.

I know people will say, “At least she’s in heaven.” As if that is supposed to somehow be comforting. Yes, I guess compared to the alternative I am very happy she is in heaven. But she’s supposed to be here. With me. With Sheldon.

She’s supposed to be coming home this week.

It’s just so, so wrong. I know one day it will be made right. One day Sheldon and I will be reunited with our daughter. One day I will remember how to pray. To say my faith is unshaken would be a lie. But I still have faith. To turn away from God just because He tells you no doesn’t make sense to me. So, even though my world has been shattered, I can’t let go of the One Who is holding on to me. Even though I’m angry and afraid and sad beyond measure, I know I am safe in the beauty of grace. I miss my little girl. I miss her and all the hope and happiness she brought with her and then left with.

God promised one day He’ll make it right. I hope that day comes soon.


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