My magical place isn't a fairytale

This morning as I was enjoying my second cup of coffee I sat on my bed with my bible and devotional book. I like to call my morning devotions, ”my quiet time with God” and during this “quiet time I read about Mary Slessor. Born in 1848, Mary grew up with an alcoholic father who often beat and raped her. By the age of 14 she was working 12 hour shifts to support her family, a family which brought her so much pain both emotionally and physically. Sometime later, a job at a city mission led Mary to Africa. Despite living alone in a mud hut and being plagued with Malaria, Mary served God in Africa by rescuing children from rituals that ended with murder, providing food to numerous families suffering from disease, and serving as a peacemaker among different tribes. Mary found splendor in her suffering and was even quoted once saying, “If anyone may testify as to the reality of His presence and power, it is surely this unworthy servant.” After hearing about this woman’s life I wanted to feel sorry for her but oddly enough I didn’t. Instead her pain became real to me. Real because this woman whom I had never met suffered so much and my heart ached for her and real because in the past year, I too, have suffered extreme pain. My mind flashed back to the pain of watching my Pap’s 9 month battle with cancer come to an end, to the pain of hearing a doctor diagnose my grandmother with cancer just 3 months after I said good-bye to my pap, the pain of failing my comprehensive physical therapy exam, the pain that came when my grandmother lost her foot to a disease (cancer) that was overtaking my family, and the physical pain of a chronic stomach disease. For too long, I viewed all of these sufferings as pure misery. But during this alone time, I sensed hope and was finally allowing God to transform my pain into something I could endure. After my morning fix, I was at peace with my pain and so thankful that I could finally turn my pain into something good for myself, for others, for God.


My peace was short lived. A few hours later, I stood holding the hand of a young woman who was getting her very first ultrasound. In an instant, I saw her child on the screen and this life became real and in that same instant, her OBGYN told her there was no heartbeat. The feeling of pain that plagued me for so long became real again and this time it was so intense, I could barely breathe. Someone I loved had lost their child. As I held her in my arms, we were surrounded by brokenness and the only comfort was to cry. In that moment, I felt so inadequate. I knew nothing I could say or do would ease her pain. A pain that I knew was going to take a long time to not only subside but to disappear. After the events of the morning had unraveled, I found myself sitting in my car crying again. Sometime between disbelief and sobs, my heart began to ache and my entire body felt numb. I wanted to go somewhere, anywhere but where I was, somewhere that magically made this pain disappear. In that moment, I examined my life and tried to remember a time that I felt this helpless, broken, and sad. And if there were such a time where did I go? What magical place exchanged my broken heart for a new one filled with rainbows, sprinkles, flying unicorns, endless amounts of ice cream and everything else happy? I closed my eyes tight and I saw the alter at my church. A place I had been many times with a broken heart. I don’t remember the drive to my church, or exactly what I said to our youth pastor as I asked to sit at the alter, or even how long I sat there…the only thing I remember is the “magic” that occurred. Over the years, I have left many, many things at that alter but only taken one thing away with me: God’s love. And today in the mist of possibly the worst day of my life, I left with the exact same thing. Through God’s love, my present pain will decrease over time and I will be able to use what I am going through today to display His splendor through me in the future. So as I faithfully wait on the pain from today to disappear, I will move ahead in obedience, I will continue to serve my God, and I will continue to worship the one who can heal my broken heart without using a single sprinkle or rainbow.

 
Little I knew that morning, God was going to call your name, in life we loved you dearly, in death we do the same. It broke our hearts to lose you, you did not go alone, for part of me went with you the day God called you home. You left us beautiful memories, your love is still our guide, and though we cannot see you, you are always by our side. Our family chain is broken and nothing seems the same, but as God calls us one by one, the chain will link again....Forever in my heart little baby Bray.
 
Verse to remember: Isaiah 61:3 (He will) provide for those who grieve in Zion- to bestow upon them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair. They will be called oaks of righteousness, a planting of the Lord for the display of his splendor.