Friday, May 30, 2014

Fix My Eyes

Find faith in the battle
Stand tall but above it all
Fix my eyes on you
-Fix My Eyes, For King and Country

When Alif was sick, my faith was strong. When he was at death's door, my faith was strong. When I spent what appeared to be my last night with him, and I said my goodbyes, told him what I loved about him, laughed about fond memories of our life together, thanked him for our four amazing children, my faith still remained strong. I wasn't angry at God. I wasn't disappointed. I was fearful, for sure, about how my children would fare, what our lives would look like, but I felt so tenderly held in my Father's hands that I had no room to doubt His will.

When my Mom died, I fell through. God didn't let me go, that much I know, but I just became such a broken person. Almost a year and a half later, I'm still broken. It's hard to put into words though, even within myself, so I really don't talk about the struggles I'm having in my faith. It's not that I'm angry with God. I'm severely disappointed, desperately lonely and very, very sad. I keep telling myself to hold onto my Father, to talk to Him, read His Words to me, to lean into Him to ride out this storm, but I'm just so tired. I can't work up having faith in His plan, I just can't, and I have been completely unable to figure out why. WHY can I not do the very things I know will help so much? 

Today I was driving and the above-referenced song played on the radio. It's like a bit of advice from the current "me" to the younger one. I absolutely love it and when I heard it before, I thought it would make such a neat graduation song for one of my children. Today, as I sang through the chorus, speakers vibrating with the force of volume, I found myself suddenly in tears. God showed me such a clear picture.

It is like I am holding onto an old, dirty, worn rope, fiercely clinging to . . . my Mom. Fixing my eyes on Him means letting her go, little by little. Every time I release that hold on her, it's as if the grief wound is opened, and my heart bleeds. I know I can trust Him. I know He is good and kind and patient and that above all, He loves me. But my Mom is what I knew in such a tangible way. If I could step outside myself, I would see that letting go of my grip on my Mom would not be an awful, scary fall, because God's hands are right there to catch me, but my flesh just wants what I had. 

It's not a solution, neatly packaged, but when God whispers to my heart, it's a big reminder of how much He cares.

1 comment:

  1. I wonder if your mom was such a clear picture of God to you that letting go of her feels a little bit like you're letting go of your faith, of God...and so it's way easier to hold onto your mom & those precious memories and be angry/hurt/frustrated/whatever with God for taking her away?

    Just a thought that came to me as I read this. I love you girl! So sorry I haven't been reading & commenting. Blogger hasn't been telling me when you post. :(