My mama reminded me the other day that our God is big enough for my anger and my questions and my lack of acceptance. She encouraged me to continue turning to him. I answered truthfully, if not, albeit, sarcastically, "Failing to turn to God would be like purposefully failing to breathe." My faith envelops me even when the words I might share are far from holy. I'm under no illusion of hiding from the one who formed me into being. I know without question that he knows my every, innermost thought.
Enter trust. Again, my thoughts are not always faithful and yet my God continues to place arms to hold me in my very path. Despite my doubts that He could possibly know what is best, He never abandons me, and people, I deserve to abandoned. Still, I am surrounded.
There are platitudes about going through trials and coming out better because "God has something better in store for me" that I loathe. There is nothing earthly better than my red head and the joy she brought our family.
Nonetheless, when this song came on, I chose to succumb-
"When the darkness closes in, still I will say,"
- though hot tears rain down my face-
"Though there's pain in the offering"
- because I have to accept that I will never understand-
"Still I will say: Blessed be the name of the Lord."
I prayed these words as I lay balled up in the corner of the gym's sauna sobbing, the full song playing in my ears. Did I want to hit skip? In a hundred ways - but I am surrounded.
I am surrounded by family who love Taylor as deeply as I, by colleagues who try to empower me, but who I think are secretly still orchestrating force fields of protection, by lifelong friends who illustrate how dear they hold us reminding us they have not forgotten our girl, and by the new friends who reach out and pray. Finally, by dozens of sweet college kids who took time out of their day to remember me, Taylor's mom to some, MammaWitch to most, and sent countless birthday wishes. I am surrounded.
Still, there's no pixie dust. Faith is not magic and in the quiet moments of each of my days, I miss my girl violently; the pain haunts me, and faith doesn't take the pain away. It's a tool when the darkness closes in, but it isn't pixie dust. Faith, like a husband's hand after decades of marriage, reaches out in perpetual promise ever ready for embrace. With enduring fortitude, faith stands and waits. Sometimes I fall into it; sometimes I reach for it; sometimes you push forward propelling me into it, and sometimes, it simply envelops me. Faith allows me to fear, and trust allows me to fail. It is as natural to me as being Taylor's mom. I chose to be a mother and I choose to be faithful.
Thank you for being faithful to me.