Sunday, December 18, 2011

I Confess...

John here...

I confess that I don't really know what to write about. I guess this is therapy. All I know is that the boys are in bed, Cristin is in bed, and having done the dishes, I'm wide awake and restless...again. Overwhelmingly, I'm scared. I can't quite figure out the reason. I mean, this past Monday was a huge show of support and love from hundreds of faces we recognized and met for the first time. All this week, we have been checking the mail to find bills and gifts and Christmas cards and letters of love and comfort and joy. We even got to celebrate with dear friends at the birth of their little girl as we prepare to celebrate another new birth this week. So much happening, so much love and so much joy. So where is this feeling of fear coming from?

I remember as a preteen, camping with my family at Carpenteria State Beach. I remember it well because that was the time I got acquainted with the Amtrak railway system. I woke up in my tent in the dead of night, reeling and straining to catch my bearings as a midnight train came barreling down the tracks just yards from our campsite. Having never been close to a moving locomotive before and having not known that we were camping so close to the train tracks, the terrible harmony of hardened steel and unstoppable power woke me from my slumber and sent me into a state of confusion and fear.

Funny thing is that what I remember most about that experience wasn't just the rude awakening or the fear and confusion in the midst of the calamity...but the deafening silence after.

I think I have feared this period of grief above all others, even from the beginning. I confess, it feels as though a freight train has come barreling through our home rudely unannounced. It has come and gone, and now all is quiet. I feel it when the boys go days without mentioning it. I feel it when the romance between Cristin and I dissipates literally overnight. I feel it when there are moments when we simply don't have words for one another. We knew the world would keep it should. But now comes the awful season of continuing, one day at a time. And the 'how' in all of it, is quite murky.

I want to glorify God. I want to boldly lead my family through the fog, up the bleak side of the hill, with all the confidence and wisdom Holy Spirit so lavishly imparts. But I confess, all is quiet. And I confess...I'm scared.

But I guess that's what courage is all about. I guess courage carries the obvious truth that you are scared, but you move anyway. And, as stated in an earlier post, going up the bleak side of the hill may be difficult and scary at times, but take heart. Your Great Companion will not fail. He will not leave you. He will never forsake you. He has walked the hill before, and He knows the way to glory.

I want Ruby so badly. As much as I may try and prove to myself that all is well, in my heart, there are these moments of longing. Listening to the sound of hardened steel and unstoppable power fade away in the distance, I am left in silence. But my Lord, He beckons, calling me to press on. Put one foot in front of the other and walk with Him.

"All the way my Savior leads me / Cheers each winding path I tread / Gives me grace for every trial / Feeds me with the Living Bread"

1 comment:

  1. Courage, my brother. Our Master does lead you all the way. I hear your heart even though I don't have an experience like yours. Others I have had have left me with similar feelings. I can't say I showed courage then, but I know our Master better now because of the experience. Perhaps it is in death that I learned more about life; things being more sharply defined with a dramatic contrast. I'm not convinced of that though, because there's still so much I don't understand. I wish I could sit with you in the silence. I know our Master does.

    Courage, my brother!