We received another bill from another doctor today. One month exactly before Samantha's due date. I don't even know how to feel about that. You numb yourself and keep those images and memories that hurt tucked down so you can get through a "normal" day. Then you get a doctor's bill. You see all the pain of trying to keep your child alive and the hurt of her loss itemized to include insurance considerations. It's surreal.
It's hard some days to know she's with Jesus, when the selfish part of me wants her here.
The truth of her place in heaven gives comfort while at the same time reminding me one more time that she's gone.
So, sometimes I struggle to praise God through my pain.
Sometimes I hurt too much.
Sometimes I'm just plain angry.
But I'm trying.
Deliver me, O Lord, and my family, as Thou didst deliver Job from his sufferings. Amen.
My particular job doesn't necessarily lend itself to healing. I do my best to smile and comfort those who come to us for help. But last week I had to leave my office for the better part of an hour while a service for a baby was held because I couldn't stand to hear that dear family's grief. At times like that it seems more than I can bear.
Then I remember what my godmother wrote to me:
It's not that God doesn't give us more than we can handle - He just doesn't give us more than we can handle with Him.
It's that last part that helps me to keep chugging along. Even if I stumble a lot (and I do!) and scrape my knees up (all the time!), Jesus still loves me, is still there to comfort me, will always hold my hand, and will forget my tantrums long before I do (guilt...what can I say, I'm pretty sure I have an honorary degree in it).
But you are a forgiving God, gracious and compassionate, slow to anger and abounding in love. Therefore you did not desert them. ~Nehemiah 7:17b
Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world, have mercy on us.
