Day Eighteen: Proverbs 13:12
Does hope fail? The wise king Solomon once wrote that delayed hope makes the heart sick, but that a yearning fulfilled is a tree of life.[i] How long can one hope in the face of unrelenting hopelessness? Sleep allows me an escape for a short while…but I have no choice…I wake up every morning…to breathe…to live…the world keeps on turning and I am on it…turning with it, whether I want to or not.
I hope. I pray. I beseech. I beg. I plead. I crawl. I grovel. I weep. Is God listening? No one listens to me here; save Elizabeth, and she is every bit as hopeless as I am. She cannot relieve my anguish…the pleading in her eyes are as pathetic as mine.
Is God good? How can my present agony support such a notion? Or is God ultimately cruel and uncaring? His hands tear at my heart ceaselessly. I am distressed beyond all human comprehension…this pain is greater than my greatest fears…there has never been anything in my imaginings or in my nightmares that comes close to the hurt I live with now.
My child is gone. Will I ever see his face again? Will I ever hear his voice again? Will I ever touch him or hold him again? Am I doomed to think of him in the past tense for ever? How can I think of him in terms of the future? How can I plan anything for him…dream anything for him…wish anything for him?
Delayed hope…I pray to the one who created everything…all I can see as well as all I cannot see. Is anything too hard for the Lord?[ii] Surely, He Who spoke the sun and moon and stars and earth into being…He who gave Abraham and Sarah a son in spite of the impossibility of such a gift[iii]…surely, He can speak on my behalf and bring my child back to me? Of course He can…but He chooses not to lift a finger. Delayed hope. My heart is sick…and dying…
No comments:
Post a Comment