Tuesday, June 5, 2012
A kruller and a 1/2 later gave me enough courage to enter the funeral. And remind me that my family is a bunch of emotional eaters.
My heart breaks for my friend. I have no doubt that her daughter is loving heaven right now, but for those left behind, it is a little more like hell here. The grief is like a rough sea that crashes repeatedly, as one sputters trying to stand after a wave, only to be hit again. Those waves crashing my friend, they were hard to bear. While I cannot make this journey for her, I wish I could. I wish she wasn't alone.
I wonder where God is in this, in the death of a child, in a mother's heart break, in the change of a life that will now be seen as "before" and "after" with the tragedy marking the line. I wonder if this is because sin entered the world, because shalom was broken, because sin and death have always gone together, then why hasn't my powerful Father stepped in and fixed it? Why doesn't he put an end to this mess? Where is he in this?
He is Immanuel, God is with us.
Though we come alongside our friends at the funeral, God is already there. While we hold her, God is holding her. When we weep with her, I believe God weeps as well. None of this comes as a surprise to him. Doesn't your heart break when your child's does? How could my Father, who loves me better than anyone, not be moved as well?
I don't understand God's plan in this. It seems senseless. But I do know that if God would have taken the world to account to prevent another friend her grief, I would have been lost. It is empty consolation to the grief of empty arms tho.
Rejoice with those who rejoice, and weep with those who weep. Romans 12:15