to the sound of pouring rain. The world around me reflecting the state of my heart, the trees catching the tears of the heavens, the rumbles of my anger filling the sky. Dreary, dull, dark.
I am frankly so angry at their absence today that I cannot put together a complete thought-
So I simply prayed for Jesus to be near.
For the holes in our hearts to be filled up with His love and abundant Mercy.
It’s the worst feeling in the world to know that I am powerless against the truth of my children’s death. I cannot change it. I cannot turn back the clock. I cannot DO ANYTHING to change the fact that I will live the rest of my life without their laughter, love and sweetness. That I will never see Mercy dance on pointe, see Sammy catch a touchdown, meet their children, dance with them at their weddings, say goodbye to them when it’s MY time to leave this earth. The story of their lives is complete, but mine has many chapters left-chapters without them here, with me, where they belong.
Painful-that’s what watching the rest of the world move on is.
Lives don’t stop. Our grief doesn’t necessarily change things. Some simply remain the same. And the compounding nature of those static things makes me want to rip the world apart with my bare hands.
But…
Yesterday was 2 more lovely pearls in the jar that Mercy & Sam gave us to fill with the souls of those who choose or return to Jesus.
So I will hold on to yesterday and the hope that filled my heart when those pearls dropped into our jar. I will hold on to Charles, Eva, Charley and Max. I will pray for the rumble of thunder to fill the sky, that I might hear the anger of God for the injustice that is this world. And I’ll stand for Jesus. I won’t compromise my soul to satisfy the needs of this world or the desires of humanity. I’ll simply stand for Him and in Him, because its the only thing that will keep me from wishing every moment of the day that He had simply taken us all together-that we would have reached eternity as a whole family instead of this fractured and broken brood.
Why, my soul, are you downcast?
Why so disturbed within me?
Put your hope in God,
for I will yet praise him,
my Savior and my God.
Psalm 42:5 NIV
In Christ,
clan mac mama
You do not know me. I know your mother. As a mother I hurt with you but have no idea the depths of pain you are enduring. Keep writing – even if you do not share it. As a fellow writer, I know it helps heal. You are obviously loved deeply by your family and your God. My love to you and I hope for peace for you.
I continue to pray for you and your family. I cannot imgaine the the pain and we hurt for you. God Bless you all.
-tisha ward-
Summerville, SC
Your words touch my heart. Even in the depths of your grief you can find Gods guiding light. I pray for you and your family. I cried for the pain and heartache you must be going through. I rejoice that you are so strong in your faith and love. I know that the pain of loosing a child must be devastating, its a pain I hope to never have to endure. I only hope and pray that as you continue on your journey you find the peace that only Gods love can give you. That and knowing you are not alone. You will see them again. I know you have an amazing family and support team. My sister Julie shares your blog with me and I am in awe of your strength and your love of God. Thank you for writing. Thank you for sharing. I am so sorry you must walk this path. May God continue to light your path, give you comfort and hold you in his loving arms.
You don't know me either. I lived in Swansboro for a time (2012-2014) and I am friends with Carmella. I am also a mom who buried two of my own children, my twin daughters Aubrey and Ellie, under very different circumstances. I don't pretend to know your grief. I've been praying for you for a while now even though I don't really know you or knew your children. I'm well acquainted with grief, a lover of Jesus, and a normal human who struggled, fought, cried, laughed, surrendered, rebelled, and survived the journey from grief to healing. It is brutal. I blogged too. Prayed. Hid. Yelled. Almost exploded inside. Cried in the shower and in the car. Pretended I was doing better than I really was. Mostly I was just very sad for a very long time. I'll continue to cover you in prayer. In the meantime I stand with you, under you, in front of you and behind you because I know you need support on all sides for this season. I will hope on your behalf when you just can't muster it. My heart breaks for you.