My baby is gone. My precious, cuddly, sapphire-blue-eyed daughter tossed me out like last week’s coffee grounds. Occasionally, I hear a snatch of news about Rita, like she was in the hospital. Whatever for? No idea. She has meticulously closed off every form of communication, allowing only the barest, most agonizing glimpses of her life to slide under my door.
Instead of a crooning heart full of life, I have a wormhole of emptiness, making me wonder that I’m alive at all. My reaction slams out of the gate itching to confront her, talk some sense into her – were I so lucky for her to take my call or read anything I wrote. Then I careen into wanting to just hold Rita in my arms, to comfort whatever broken piece of her has decided it’s easier to blame Mumsie than to take a gander at her own woundedness.
With wobbly feelings, I falter into a delusional co-dependent state of longing to apologize, not grasping what crime I’ve committed, trying to hold back the waterworks so I can plod through the day. I wonder if I sent money, if maybe, just maybe, she would love me again. And then I circle right back to reality: she wants neither truth nor me, not my arms encircling in love, nor any words of consolation, wisdom, or reality.
I begin to question whether I’m all that well acquainted with reality. How can I make my home on planet Earth, tiptoeing towards acceptance, when my heart is lost in unrequited love and confusion? My mind spins in rampant loop-de-loops, trying to grasp the purpose, the path out, any course of action that’s not just a stalemate. Longing for an answer. Yet, silence.
I need to keep my tale in perspective. The world still turns if Rita hates me. The moon still shines when she slanders inventive narratives across social media. More to the point, others have lost children: some to depression, some to speed demon traffic, some to illness. Loss is never a kind master. While I ache, it isn’t final. Even the parent with a prodigal in the pig pen doesn’t have forever stamped on the final passport. And to those who have suffered that crushing loss, my heart and love go out to you.
Even if we or our prodigal are trying to run away, God is faithfully with us, near us. Psalm 139:8-10 says, “If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, you are there. If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast” (NIV). There is nowhere we can go without God’s faithful presence.
Accepting my reality without letting it deep dive me into massive stuck sadness, I look to others with compassion. Many countries don’t have food; humanitarian supplies are diverted and sold, not reaching the poor who wrestle for survival. People die in wars for their freedom. Christians are murdered in Africa, Asia, and the Middle East daily. I need to grasp that my hurts, although real, are not going to stop planetary gravity. Nor, painful as it is, do I have cause to doubt God’s love or faithfulness. He is the great comforter. 2 Corinthians 1:3-4 “Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God” (NIV).
He can comfort us through every pain and loss. How is He supposed to comfort me if my brain is acting like a Jack Russell terrier after espresso shots? I desperately need to take captive my thoughts and turn my troubles over to Him. “We are destroying arguments and all arrogance raised against the knowledge of God, and we are taking every thought captive to the obedience of Christ” 2 Corinthians 10:5 (NASB). I close my eyes and say:
Lord, please wrap your arms around me and comfort me. Heal my broken heart and grant me the strength to look to you and listen to you today. Help me cherish the God of comfort more than I desire a life of ease. May even this brokenness bring good in this world and glory to your name. Work in me to make me the godly person you created me to be. Guide my heart into humility and peace. Help me to forgive, let go, and love others with your love. Amen
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