Grief and Death
In the face of death there was no one to blame, no sign, no job, no certainty, no cure in sight, and no telling what God had in mind. I was alone with God, holy in his determined, unpredictable will.
These days were filled with the peculiar and strangling frenzy of waiting. I cried a lot, worried a lot, questioned a lot, felt lost, slept little, and beyond all of that, God began to touch me deeply.
I started being honest, dreadfully honest. I didn't like the idea of death. Death is, for me, the great intruder. I was angry with God that he would ask me even to consider it. I had questions for which I didn't think God had the answers, or if he did, he wasn't willing to share them with me. And when I asked those questions, a surprising thing happened: what was meant as confrontation became relase.
Far from resenting my questions, God welcomed them. He comprehended my pain and translated my helplessness into certain strength. I don't know how. I don't know much about such grace. God gave no answers, then, just his presence. Just that. And his grace was sufficient.
Deforia Lane
© 2001 girlygirl_1999@hotmail.com
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