It’s been five
Fridays since we’ve buried our son Joseph. And it’s been some kind of
rollercoaster ride. Every day that has passed by, new questions
arise. Why, Lord? How could You allow such a thing? It wasn’t
supposed to end this way— And as each question gets ignored, seemingly, another
question surfaces. With still no answers, we are left in the
silence.
Locked in the
imaginations of our mind, of what would have, could have, and certainly should
have been, life goes on as we scramble to pick up the pieces in silence.
22 years old he
was. Just realizing his purpose. Silence.
The dreams, the
visions, the promises You made. Silence.
Friends have come—
some who we thought were not.
Some who we
believed were— only to discover hidden plans and agendas, promises made and
broken. It’s something to find out that you do not mean to some, what you
thought you did. Silence.
So many
emotions. How can you be so high on life one day, only to hit rock bottom
the next… again. Silence.
How can you be
surrounded by so many at one time, never feeling alone, never left alone… not
for one solitary moment… and become virtually invisible the next. Even
more silence.
Phone rang at some
points so much we could have been an emergency call center. The pain is
still here— even more evident than it was before, why the silence? And
why so loud? Nothing has changed. He’s still gone and we still have
no answers.
Notification among
notification, back to back, a buzz, a vibrate, a ding... constant and
consistent. Yearning for that now. Trying to find some new sense of
normal, holding onto those things--- the only things that still seem to be
normal… a hairdresser appointment, a Mani and a Pedi… church. So
simple. Feels somewhat familiar and sane for a moment, but somehow
screams that it’s not. Loud.
Are you running…? I
hear. Doesn’t matter… No matter how far I do, still can’t escape the
silence. It beckons me. Calling out my name. “I’m still
here!!!!” It says. “Don’t you hear me?” It’s sure loud enough
to hear.
Answering it, I
hold on. We hold on. We still have each other, I think.
Always have, always will. Wasn’t that the way it was? Then I’m
reminded …we still have each other… until we don’t.
Questions come once
again. More silence. So very loud. Why are you screaming at
me? I say.
It doesn’t even
make sense. Is there such a thing as loud silence? I ask.
Sometimes something is missing in your life so strong, that the mere absence of
it, speaks louder than its presence. Absence… silence. In absence,
there is silence. Talk about deep calling unto deep. The
silence is speaking so loud, so deep, it’s deafening. Sometimes I can’t
hear myself think.
When will it end,
Lord? How do we go on Lord?
Silence… still.
Still silent?
You answer… Be
still.
Be still and know I
am God.
You are God.
But I still don’t understand, Lord.
How did You make me
to contend with horses, but I can’t contend with silence?
Even tried to go
shopping and it just doesn’t do it anymore. In the midst of a noisy and
active mall, all I hear is silence, still. And it’s so very loud.
Be still. You
said again.
Still your
heart. Still your mind. That is where I am.
Remember Elijah and
how He looked for Me. It was silent for him, too.
I am God… And I am
in the still small voice of your silence.
Wait for Me
there. And hear Me. It’s not so loud where I Am.
And it’s not so
silent.
A servant of the
Lord,
Sis. E
http://www.butgodisreal.com
http://intheshadowofgrief.com
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