Lamenting Joel

 “Give all your worries and cares to God, for he cares about you.” 1 Peter 5:7

Jesus, do you even care about me?

Jesus, are you there?

Jesus, do you hear my prayers or see my tears?

    The hurt we feel when we lose a loved one can cut so deep that not even a sliver of light can penetrate the darkness that clouds our minds. “They’re in a better place” or “They’re no longer in pain” are said to comfort you, but they do very little to actually bring the comfort you long for. 

    There’s a different story though when your loved one that dies was a known druggie. The phone doesn’t ring, beep, or vibrate. Sure people send their condolences but it’s different. The comforting words aren’t said and most people are thinking one less dope head to worry about or serves them right. 

    The fact is, it doesn’t matter how the person died, the people who are left behind are still hurt. The desire to see, hear and touch your loved one just ONE MORE TIME is overwhelming. All the what-ifs running through your head, and the darkness that overcomes you is still there; but the support you need from the community dries up when the person who died doesn’t match society’s view of a person that deserves to be mourned.

    My brother died of a heart attack on August 12th, 2019. I had just finished volleyball practice when I found out and was heading to my house. The pain from this phone call caused my stomach to knot up and push a golf ball size lump into my throat. I held myself together as I got out of the truck, and found my husband and kids sitting outside. I was expecting to deliver this horrible news to my mom (our mom), but I found her wailing on my kitchen floor with her cell phone facing up. My aunt was on the other end, telling me she was sorry. I cried, of course, and my mom and I immediately packed and drove solemnly for two hours to her house, where my brother had passed away. 

    I, however, held it all together. I was strong until I wasn’t. I broke about a week later. It was Tuesday, game day, and I was determined to be there for my girls, for my team. I made it through our game even though the reality of my brother’s death and the fact that I had not dealt with it was slapping me in the face. I sat quietly, on the bench for the varsity game and as the game ended, my world started to crumble. I jetted out of the gym, snatched my belongings from the coach's office, jumped in my car, and drove home before releasing the loudest, most pain-filled scream to God. 

    In that moment of lamenting, I questioned God. I screamed at God. I couldn’t understand why he would allow me to lose yet another person in my life. Hadn’t I been through enough? It was pitch black outside, and my soul felt just as dark. Just as I was letting out my anger and “letting God have it”, the dome light in the car came on. The light penetrated the dark inside the truck and somehow found its way into my heart. My husband quietly shut the passenger door, reached for my hand, and said, “it’s okay, let it all out, I’ve been wondering how much longer you would make it before breaking.” God sent Nick outside at just the right moment, I put my head on the steering wheel and sobbed. As the tears streamed down my face I knew God heard me and eventually I was going to be okay. 

    You may not feel like God is there. You may not feel like he cares. BUT GOD..is ALWAYS there, he DOES care, and he HEARS your prayers. It just may be that you're sitting in the dark and you can’t see him. God will send someone to reach out to you and to turn the light on so you can see him. He’s there waiting for us to cry out to him and when you do he will carry you through.