My heart is despondent.
When I write I always have in mind three things to accomplish: Share my true heart, share the raw story, and seek God's insight in everything that happens. This is not what I have in mind for this post
I have no insight, inspiration, perspective, Biblical revelation to help me overcome my despondent heart.
A dear mentor of mine recently called me out for cursing in the most public place ever: Facebook.
She said she understood how I must feel, but that it wasn't ladylike and I shouldn't lose my sweetness.
But you see, I'm going through the stages of grief, though not in the right order. Now, this is no excuse or justification for foul language; it's just the reality of where my heart is.
I don't know if you can call hopefully pleading and praying as denial. Bargaining and depression came later, and I am stuck in anger.
Here is the post that sparked the admonishment.
I want Him to hear.
I want to scream it... to Him.
I don't blame Him for cancer.
I am not angry with Him for her and me getting it.
I am angry at cancer.
I am angry she could not be spared.
Was that really my denial stage? Knowing the doctor's had said in September there was nothing to do for Kinsley and still pleading to You with all my heart everyday for a miracle? Was it really useless and was I in denial?
I asked You to bargain with me. Take me instead.
With so much at stake, I still asked you to take me and leave her.
I didn't even want to enter surgery knowing there was more doctors could do to try to save my life, and Kinsley was dying that morning.
I am not sure I am over depression. I'm stuck between the two, anger and depression, like the psalmist stuck in the slimy pit.
Kinsley should be here.
She should be playing and being an awesome big sister.
She should be brightening everyone's day with her big smile.
Goodness,my despair feels deep and it's but a drop in the ocean her mom and dad feel.
My heart is griefstricken.
I find no solace.
I look at my two girls and remember the similar posts of them like the photo above I shared.
But my girls have 50% chance of having my cancer gene.
They have 1 in 2 chances of having to walk this cancer journey.
I want to spare them.
I can't protect them.
I want my girls to save up money to get marry, start a family, buy a house, take their dream trip. I don't want them saving money for their breast implants and mastectomies.
I want them to live long and well, not age prematurely, like I am, from getting their ovaries removed.
And what if my life is claimed in one or two years? What will be of them?
"Don't lose your sweetness," my sweet mentor said.
"There is no sweetness left after cancer," I replied.
My goal and pursuit has been kindness.
Diplomacy is as close as I've gotten.
Will I be able to get to sweetness?
Cancer took sweetness away.
Kinsley was sweetness.
I don't mind someone reminding me not to sin in my anger.
I just wish she had used a different word.
Ladylike.
"You don't look ladylike," she said.
Ha! That is an understatement.
The pain from my scars makes it hard to walk erect.
I have my flat chest, hunchback, pregnant-looking belly (from all the swelling), tomboyish short hair, and dark circle under my eyes from almost a year of bad nights. I am the furthest thing from ladylike.
I'm bitter.
Like Ruth's mother-in-law Naomi, whose name means sweetness, I want to be called Mara (bitterness) for the Lord has dealt bitterly with me
I mourn Kinsley as I mourn the babies in my dreams I can no longer birth.
Where once I felt pure joy and endeavored to pray fervently for them, now I feel envy and anger when my friends announce their pregnancies.
I know I am blessed. I know there is much to be grateful for.
I look at my daughters and know I should feel bliss.
I try to find my way back, my mind back.
I am not rejecting God. If anything, I am talking to Him more.
I am just..... angry.
Is it wrong?
I guess it is normal for a child to get angry at her parents.
I have a two year old with anger issues. I mean clench her fist, dog-like growling, you-are-dead-to-me stares, feet stomping, banshee-type screaming angry.
The last time she had an anger episode I held her from the arms and pulled her close while she kept screaming. I started praying. "I don't know what I am doing. I don't know how to guide her. Help me. Help me be the mom she needs." My poor little girl suffers from neglect in an important developmental year from an absent mother battling cancer. She is angry. She is demanding attention. She deserves a good mom.
Do I have a right to cry out to You, Lord, my heavenly Father?
I am not sorry, Lord.
I still want to go back an change my post.
I still want to write down my true sentiments about cancer and have everyone read it.
I know You don't approve.
Do You reproach me in my state?
I felt sorry someone would reach out to me for my language in a post instead of reaching out to love the broken.
Please forgive my weakness in my mourning.
I wrote of my despondent heart to a friend and this was her reply:
"Thankfully, our hurt, anger, doubt and questions do not upset God or anger Him. He receives them and welcomes our hearts, even when they are shrouded in pain and anger.
Continue to ask Him. Continue to shout at and wrestle with Him. Continue to speak your heart, ask your questions and feel your feelings. He will be faithful to meet you in that place.
I have no words. I have no insight or wisdom.
My heart aches for you. I will pray fervently for your heart.
I love you."
I hope she is right.
I pray time can heal my despondent heart.
I hope sooner rather than later I can reach the acceptance stage of grief.
I hope I can make sense of all this despair and grief.
I just want to thank the friend and family who have been here for me.
Thank you, Aunt Juanita, for coming almost everyday to help me with the dishes, with picking up the girls from school and caring for them, for rubbing my aching body, and being such a wonderful comfort.
Thank you to the friends that open their houses to me to escape my days spent locked in my room, to those who visit and give me wonderful company, to those who bring me food and laughter to my sullen days.
Thank you to my mom, who is my greatest strength. I know this post will make her sad because I know she wishes she was here with me. I know she wishes she could make it all better.
Thank you to my husband for sticking with me in my low.
When I write I always have in mind three things to accomplish: Share my true heart, share the raw story, and seek God's insight in everything that happens. This is not what I have in mind for this post
I have no insight, inspiration, perspective, Biblical revelation to help me overcome my despondent heart.
A dear mentor of mine recently called me out for cursing in the most public place ever: Facebook.
She said she understood how I must feel, but that it wasn't ladylike and I shouldn't lose my sweetness.
But you see, I'm going through the stages of grief, though not in the right order. Now, this is no excuse or justification for foul language; it's just the reality of where my heart is.
I don't know if you can call hopefully pleading and praying as denial. Bargaining and depression came later, and I am stuck in anger.
Here is the post that sparked the admonishment.
 |
My post was edited to the present #cancersucks.
That was not my post.
My sentiments matched Kinsley's mom's sentiments: F*** cancer!
I even wanted to write it in caps as well.
I felt like a hypocrite changing it to what it is now.
I feel upset changing it.
My heart is pounding fast and strong while yelling it in my inside.
I want to scream it with all my might at the top of my lungs for everyone to hear.I want Him to hear.
I want to scream it... to Him.
I don't blame Him for cancer.
I am not angry with Him for her and me getting it.
I am angry at cancer.
I am angry she could not be spared.
Was that really my denial stage? Knowing the doctor's had said in September there was nothing to do for Kinsley and still pleading to You with all my heart everyday for a miracle? Was it really useless and was I in denial?
I asked You to bargain with me. Take me instead.
With so much at stake, I still asked you to take me and leave her.
I didn't even want to enter surgery knowing there was more doctors could do to try to save my life, and Kinsley was dying that morning.
I am not sure I am over depression. I'm stuck between the two, anger and depression, like the psalmist stuck in the slimy pit.
 |
| Kinsley's mom posted this picture a few days ago. The picture is from when a pre-cancer Kinsley met her little sister. |
She should be playing and being an awesome big sister.
She should be brightening everyone's day with her big smile.
Goodness,my despair feels deep and it's but a drop in the ocean her mom and dad feel.
My heart is griefstricken.
I find no solace.
I look at my two girls and remember the similar posts of them like the photo above I shared.
But my girls have 50% chance of having my cancer gene.
They have 1 in 2 chances of having to walk this cancer journey.
I want to spare them.
I can't protect them.
I want my girls to save up money to get marry, start a family, buy a house, take their dream trip. I don't want them saving money for their breast implants and mastectomies.
I want them to live long and well, not age prematurely, like I am, from getting their ovaries removed.
And what if my life is claimed in one or two years? What will be of them?
"Don't lose your sweetness," my sweet mentor said.
"There is no sweetness left after cancer," I replied.
My goal and pursuit has been kindness.
Diplomacy is as close as I've gotten.
Will I be able to get to sweetness?
Cancer took sweetness away.
Kinsley was sweetness.
I don't mind someone reminding me not to sin in my anger.
I just wish she had used a different word.
Ladylike.
"You don't look ladylike," she said.
Ha! That is an understatement.
The pain from my scars makes it hard to walk erect.
I have my flat chest, hunchback, pregnant-looking belly (from all the swelling), tomboyish short hair, and dark circle under my eyes from almost a year of bad nights. I am the furthest thing from ladylike.
I'm bitter.
Like Ruth's mother-in-law Naomi, whose name means sweetness, I want to be called Mara (bitterness) for the Lord has dealt bitterly with me
I mourn Kinsley as I mourn the babies in my dreams I can no longer birth.
Where once I felt pure joy and endeavored to pray fervently for them, now I feel envy and anger when my friends announce their pregnancies.
I know I am blessed. I know there is much to be grateful for.
I look at my daughters and know I should feel bliss.
I try to find my way back, my mind back.
I am not rejecting God. If anything, I am talking to Him more.
I am just..... angry.
Is it wrong?
I guess it is normal for a child to get angry at her parents.
I have a two year old with anger issues. I mean clench her fist, dog-like growling, you-are-dead-to-me stares, feet stomping, banshee-type screaming angry.
The last time she had an anger episode I held her from the arms and pulled her close while she kept screaming. I started praying. "I don't know what I am doing. I don't know how to guide her. Help me. Help me be the mom she needs." My poor little girl suffers from neglect in an important developmental year from an absent mother battling cancer. She is angry. She is demanding attention. She deserves a good mom.
Do I have a right to cry out to You, Lord, my heavenly Father?
I am not sorry, Lord.
I still want to go back an change my post.
I still want to write down my true sentiments about cancer and have everyone read it.
I know You don't approve.
Do You reproach me in my state?
I felt sorry someone would reach out to me for my language in a post instead of reaching out to love the broken.
Please forgive my weakness in my mourning.
I wrote of my despondent heart to a friend and this was her reply:
"Thankfully, our hurt, anger, doubt and questions do not upset God or anger Him. He receives them and welcomes our hearts, even when they are shrouded in pain and anger.
Continue to ask Him. Continue to shout at and wrestle with Him. Continue to speak your heart, ask your questions and feel your feelings. He will be faithful to meet you in that place.
I have no words. I have no insight or wisdom.
My heart aches for you. I will pray fervently for your heart.
I love you."
I hope she is right.
I pray time can heal my despondent heart.
I hope sooner rather than later I can reach the acceptance stage of grief.
I hope I can make sense of all this despair and grief.
I just want to thank the friend and family who have been here for me.
Thank you, Aunt Juanita, for coming almost everyday to help me with the dishes, with picking up the girls from school and caring for them, for rubbing my aching body, and being such a wonderful comfort.
Thank you to the friends that open their houses to me to escape my days spent locked in my room, to those who visit and give me wonderful company, to those who bring me food and laughter to my sullen days.
Thank you to my mom, who is my greatest strength. I know this post will make her sad because I know she wishes she was here with me. I know she wishes she could make it all better.
Thank you to my husband for sticking with me in my low.
Linda, your words capture the rawest of our faith struggles - that we trust God but agonize over the brokenness and pain of our world or our circumstance. While many many read and feel uncomfortable with your raw honesty, many more will read and thank God for your vulnerability and authenticity.
ReplyDeleteLinda, you know I grieve with you and have freely shared similar sentiments. As much as we may wish we could "curse God and die," we also know, deep down, that we cannot ultimately deny the One who bought us as there is something written into our spiritual DNA that causes us to cling to Him, even as if by a single thread. We would have no hope apart from His inscrutable desire to preserve and love us - even when it seems that He is crushing us. That is the paradox that infects my mind and soul: like the Israelites who were delivered by looking upon the brazen serpent in the wilderness, in some ways a representation of the very thing that brought about their anguish.
ReplyDelete