A Light for My Path

I am writing this post on the Friday before Mother’s Day. By the time it’s published Mother’s Day will be past us. But, for now I have just prayed, as I always do before I start to write, that God will bless my words and that they will be acceptable in His sight. I’m also praying that He will give me strength to get through Mother’s Day. That I won’t allow my grief at losing my younger daughter to overshadow the love and thankfulness I have for my older daughter. Who is still here on this earth. Who is a beautiful person in every way. Who is married to a wonderful husband and has given us four exceptionally brilliant, magnificent grandchildren. She fills my heart with joy.

And I am reminding God that even though He has blessed me beyond measure, I’m still angry at Him. Not always anymore. But sometimes. Like, say, two days before Mother’s Day. Because half of my mama heart is not here to celebrate with us. And that makes me angry and sad. Fortunately, I’m not the first person to tell God I’m not happy about something He has done or allowed.

Being angry at God has a lot of precedents in the Bible and in history. Certainly, Job stands out as someone who can be excused for yelling at his heavenly Father. God granted Satan permission to test Job by allowing every member of his family, except his wife, to die. His home, barns, livestock and his entire means of livelihood were destroyed. And, seemingly to rub salt in his wounds, Job was inflicted with boils all over his body. Oh yes, and his “friends” came and comforted Job by insinuating that he must have done something bad to warrant all this misfortune.

And since Job didn’t know that this was a test from Satan, he got pretty darn heated in his words to God.

In the April 29^th daily devotional of Our Daily Bread, the author talks about Elie Wiesel, a Holocaust survivor and author who spent time in both Auschwitz and Buchenwald. In a documented interview with a journalist, Wiesel said when he was imprisoned in Auschwitz, he was so angry at God for allowing the horrors to happen, that he lost his faith. And, yet he realized later that if you believe in God enough to take your anger to Him, you haven’t completely lost your faith. “You don’t get angry at someone you don’t believe exists.”

I know that I can’t see the future and I can’t fathom the reasons God allows some things to happen. He may be shaking His head at my questioning and my short-sightedness. This is my tenth Mother’s Day without Rachel in the world with me. So far, this is the tenth year in a row that I’ve reminded God that I don’t like it that she’s not here. In fact, I’m still pretty angry about it. It probably won’t be the last time I question His judgment about when she should have died.

It’s also the tenth year in a row that God has reminded me that He’s still here. He’s still in charge. I’m still talking to Him. I’m still forgiven (again). And despite my anger, that little mustard-seed sized bit of faith I have …

is enough.

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Laura