Pass the remote, can we just fast forward

I am so tired of crying. I know it is still fresh. I know I am supposed to be sad. I can not imagine that anyone wants to read the description of the images in my head of what I keep seeing and feeling. It is not pretty. I wish I could know if the baby was a girl or a boy. I find myself not knowing how to reference that life, so brief. Then I get angry again. I think I am not angry anymore until I find myself stumbling for words and I feel so utterly ridiculous about it all. The knowledge in my head and my heart are ringing true to give me what little strength I find I have but it’s clashing with the emotional feelings.

I feel physically weak for being angry. I feel spiritually weak for being angry. I don’t want to admit that either. I don’t want anyone to know that I’m angry. I am on the verge of a temper tantrum. I guarantee you my tantrums are not pretty. We’re not supposed to ask why, right? But I find myself chasing away those questions all the time.

Why give us a child that You are only going to take away? Why put us through all this pain and suffering? What do You want me to learn? Is this it? Will there be no more for us? Will this hole always be here? Will I always remember? Will I forget? What did I do wrong? It is not mine to question.

So let’s pretend you didn’t read that part. Let’s just fast forward.

I have recently reconnected (via Facebook) with an old friend from my days of youth (remember, I’m old which according to the doctor is why our baby died). I grew up in a neighborhood with thousands of children. Alright, not thousands, but a large number. Here’s an exercise in memory: how many names can Rae remember? Last names withheld to protect the innocent (and my not so innocent memory):
Pepper, Austin, Lyle, Jennifer, Jeffery, Jennifer and Jeffery’s little brother whose name I can not remember, Anne, Georgia, Virginia, Chip, Amy, Amy’s older brother whom I never really knew therefore whose name I can not remember, Gina, Adam, Nichole, Nichole’s sister (they went to the private school), the granddaughter of the couple around the corner, Rebecca, Tyson, Amanda, Me. All those children were literally right on my block. I could name another twenty or so that were within bike riding distance that I saw regularly as well. All of us were within just a few years of age from each other. Pepper and Tyson were the oldest (older than me by 4 years). Clarification: Tyson is my brother. Jennifer and Jeffery’s little brother, Lyle, Amanda, Virginia, (and probably Chip) would all be classified as the younger crowd, or at least ‘the little siblings’. Clarification: Amanda is my sister (younger by 7.5 years). On almost any given day there were children in someone’s yard playing. There were almost always bikes in someone’s yard or driveway. There were also BBs in eyes and air pellets ricocheting into arms (mine) and accidental baseball bats into heads (not mine), ditches being dug in, crawdaddies being caught (I was good at this), and snakes to jump over (yes, I did).

So back to Facebook. I’ve reconnected with an old friend or two, but this one particular friend recently wrote on her blog about loss, sort of. She posed the question: Is it a loss if it was never yours? Interesting. She was referring to the fact that she is single, which was not her dream or vision for her life. While her particular questions and thoughts are not exactly in line with what I’m going through I realized I have my own answer for her question (even though I think she was being rhetorical).

Maybe I can explain it better later, when my thoughts do not feel so jumbled and confused. God gives and God takes away.¹ God creates. God allows. God does. God is. God made us. God made us in His image.² God gave us the ability to create, do, be. God gave us dreams, goals, life. If we were not made in His image would we still be able to dream? And I don’t mean the kinds of dreams we have in our sleep, but even those can be prophetic.³ I mean dreams for our life. The plans God has for our lives are always better than the ones we make for ourselves. We do not always see this, because we are not privy to the Big Picture. It’s true, trust me. I have experienced it before in large form over and over again and now in this storm of life. God does not always give us what we want, but He has something bigger and better planned. Always.

God gave us the ability to dream and to desire. Dreaming and desiring are not sinful. Artists, scientists, mechanics, inventors, performers would be nowhere without the gifts to dream and create. Creating goes deeper than just the external. Creating includes life. We are not able to create from nothing like God can, did. We have to use what He created as our starting point. The artist did not reach into nothingness and make paints and brushes and a canvas. The clay the potter uses was first created by God.

I am sure you are wondering where it all connects in my head. My point is that God gives us dreams and desires and sometimes He allows those dreams and desires to be fulfilled and achieved, sometimes He says, “No, I have something so much bigger planned for you.” The dream was still yours. A dream is not tangible, but it was yours. Your thoughts and desires and emotions were invested in it. A lost dream can be mourned. So, Anne, my answer to your question is “Yes, it was yours to lose.” But I would also say to you, rejoice in what you have, the family that He has given you. Your family is bigger than you know. I’ve learned over the recent years that blood is thicker than water. ⁴ Or is it?

Anne said

I suppose it’s a testament to my maturity that I just want to throw a temper tantrum, scream and cry and stay right where I am until I get what I want.

I love that line. I might add “and hold my breath until I turn blue.” It is how I feel right now. I want to throw a full blown temper tantrum at God. I want Him to see how much I hurt. The truth is: He already knows. He hurts more than I do. The tantrum will do me no good. I have said it before and I’ll say it again (mainly to remind myself), The plans God has for our lives are always better than the ones we make for ourselves.

Some losses run deeper than others. Some times we can just toss the loss out and start over. Like a broken mug on the floor we sweep it up the few pieces and pour a fresh cup of coffee in a new mug. Sometimes the loss turns into storms. Like a shattered glass whose tiny shards are hiding in cracks and crevices even after we sweep and mop that we step on later and they remind us of that shattered glass that once was whole. And the way ahead is dark and rough. But life is not about avoiding the storms. It’s about learning to dance in the rain.

Pass the remote, let’s fast forward and buy a new pair of galoshes. It’s gonna be raining for a while.