|
Love Wrested, Lost...By the Giver
by Abby Kelly I've watched a lot of heartbreak in the last few weeks. It makes me feel almost guilty to say that, because it hasn't been my loss. No, I've felt pain as a ricochet, a blow bounced back, only slightly less forceful. I have watched loss strike violently at the hearts of my friends and I wonder if my comfort is sufficient or cheap. Two have lost babies before birth. One knows her husband likely won't be there to kiss her on January 1, 2015. Another lost her best buddy, a pup she'd loved from before she found her own husband. One buried a treasured aunt. What do you say to loss when you cannot literally sidle up alongside and bear the brunt of it with the loved one pained? You pray. Unfortunately, even in Christian society, maybe especially in Christian society, that assurance has lost its power. It comes across as weak, timid, cursory and half-hearted. It's the same feeling of resignation that births the statement, "I've done all I can. All that's left is to pray." But this post isn't intended to resurrect your passion for prayer, your conviction that it is the single most important, effective thing you can do for loved ones in pain, in the throes or on the precipice of loss. (Though it is.) If a renewed respect for prayer is a side effect of my words, may God receive glory. No, this post is my own reflection on loss. It's what I hope I recall the next time a beloved is wrenched from my hands. Job 1:21 says, "..."Naked came I out of my mother's womb, and naked shall I return thither. The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord." I wonder about God taking away. In truth, there's a vast difference between something being lost or stolen, and something being gently tugged from clutching fingers by a loving Father. When I was little, I recall my sister getting into the medicine cabinet. After watching Mom dole out vitamin C tablets to her older siblings, she wondered about the orange-colored "candy". Why couldn't she have some? So, this little one climbed up on the counter, popped the child-proof cap and downed the rest of the bottle. When Mom found her, she was mauling the final "candies". Hastily, Mom snatched the poison from little fingers. My sister cried. The pain a child feels when a parent takes something away (even a bottle of vitamins--innately good but harmful for a child at that age) is when tiny fists grip it tightly and sting when the object is finally wrested away. Though my experience of these recent pains is only an echo, I marvel at the strength bearing up my friends. I pause and take notice of their valor and humble submission to the God of "every good and perfect gift". It is vastly different to lose something, have it stolen or to understand, even welcome, the loving hands of a Father who takes it away. Blessed Be the Name of the Lord. Learn more about me on my website: http://predatory-lies.com/about-me/ Please find my book on Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Surviving-Predatory-Lies-Anorexia-Kelly-ebook/dp/B00HFGMBJA/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1389645006&sr=8-1&keywords=predatory+lies Article Source: http://www.faithwriters.com |