It Wasn’t Supposed to Be Like This

February 5, 2010

Part 2

I’d never been so shook.
What followed the next weeks could best be described as a full out adult temper tantrum.

The words were, “stage 4, lung cancer”. I stood with her as the doctor told us with a smile, then shuttled her to sign off on her treatment so he could tell me that I should do what I needed to do since she only had weeks.

My momma. The one who had always been there for me, wasn’t going to be with me much longer and the doctor wasn’t shy about rolling out the upcoming festivities with a smile. Sort of twisted if you ask me. The whole thing was a big twisted joke.

There it was. The fog. Disoriention. Fear. Nausea. Everything went gray as I took the step into that murky, unfamiliar place between life and death.

I felt like I had been diagnosed with her. I cried. Hard. The only way to describe it was like waking up on a completely unfamiliar road, covered with large irregular rocks, in the pitch dark, where I had no bearings. I remember the temper tantrum I had on that road. So real. I demanded that I be put back where I was, the way things were, where I knew how to navigate the road I was on the day before. But day after day I woke up on that dark road. Every day I kicked and screamed. I threw rocks. Like Forrest said, “Sometimes there just aren’t enough rocks”.

I wondered what life was all about. You’re born, you live, you die. What’s the point? What are we doing here? What matters? The stuff people fight hard to keep and do seemed futile when given a terminal sentence. Everything so important suddenly seemed ridiculous and stupid. Nothing made sense anymore.

So I did what’s typical in crisis. I started asking God “why?”. I started asking Him a lot of questions. Those questions came from what my brother called, “a religious nutjob” and better yet a full-time ministry leader. I knew what the right words were, but they weren’t feeling very real and solid.

One thing was for sure. I had no intention of going anywhere until I got answers. So, each day I cried. Each day I demanded answers from God Almighty.

God didn’t take issue with me asking. He didn’t get disgusted or impatient. He didn’t judge my ignorance or strike me down.

He helped me see.

Maybe, I was relentless or maybe pitiful. Whatever…. He helped me see.

What He helped me see is that He mourns with me; with all of us when the most tragic, difficult times happen. He mourns over the disease and pain; the death and heartbreak we feel. Jesus mourned with the people He cared about. He mourned when one of His best friends died. He mourns because these things were never in His original plan. It was never supposed to be like this. It was supposed to be perfect.

Note to Self:
It’s good to know the God of the Universe will stay with me through my tantrums. It’s good to know I’m not alone in mourning. It’s good to know it was never supposed to be like this.

Even when I walk through the darkest valley, I won’t be afraid, for you are close beside me.
Psalm 23:4

But it also created so many more questions….

What are the questions you ask God?
Share with a comment.


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