That's preeetttty much what I feel like is going on in my head (and my heart)....rimble-ramble.
To the (obvious) point that words that aren't really words keep popping to the surface of my mind or my tongue and that's just how I'm rolling these days.
Really, I guess...I'm angry.
Any time people ask me about anger or studies talk about anger or counselors discuss effective ways to deal with anger, I sort of think in my head (and sometimes say out loud), "I'm not really that angry."
And honestly, I haven't been.
Heartsick, devastated, broken, crushed, disappointed, betrayed, confused, aimless...the list goes on and on...
But angry hasn't really been on it.
Why? With or at whom would I be angry? God? I know people are and absolutely I understand why--and I believe without a doubt that He understands this anger as well.
It just never seemed productive to ME--anger in general doesn't really seem productive for me. It makes me more miserable than the person or circumstance with which I am angry, and I know myself (and my genes) well enough to know that I am a grudge-holder of epic proportions. Knowing this, and knowing that I am also driven by guilt (my own and that of others' given to me in the form of never-ending trips)...I just really tried from the start of my life without Matthew to not allow myself to be angry.
In my Bible study, I even said I WISHED I could get angry because I was just too heartbroken to be much of anything but that...heartbroken. At least with anger, I am more motivated to do something--to right the wrong; fight the fight...funnel emotion into finding the justice.
There are some situations in life, though, where that's just not possible.
That's what the last few days have been like--situation after situation after situation where I just can't get over the INJUSTICE. The lack of equity. The sheer UNFAIR factor in life.
Anyone who knows me in real life knows that I can NOT stand injustice. I am the perpetual fighter of the underdog and John and I often even bicker sometimes because I feel compelled to fight the fights that need fighting--whether they are mine to fight or not.
The funny thing about this intense drive is that I am also the first person to say, "Life is not fair...never has been." I have a career's worth of children who will tell you, "Life's not fair...if it was, Mrs. Ennis would be tall, rich and blond," or "We all have our crosses to bear...Mrs. Ennis is short and she deals with it, so you can deal with _________."
Yes, children pay attention to EVERYTHING you say.
My point is that I think I hate the fact that life is not fair because I so strongly know that LIFE IS NOT FAIR and there's nothing that can be done about it.
In the last week, three women I have come to know and love and been honored to follow their story have lost their babies. THREE. All three have suffered so much in loss before...all three have been SO hopeful for their new, restored joy and the reminder of what a bit of happiness and hope feel like.
And all three have been crushed. Again. And are so honorable and valiant in their attitude about it all right now.
But I'm angry. Very, very angry. This morning, as I read the precious words of one, I was just SO reminded of the hours in the hospital with Matthew...telling everyone it was going to be ok...feeling a little ashamed of myself for the melodrama of it all because I KNEW he was going to be ok...I had more faith than I've ever had in my entire life about anything and I KNEW that faith would be rewarded....we were surrounded in prayer by so many people all over the world...and I felt SO betrayed in my faith when John told me he was dying.
Those feelings are really rearing their head again in these last few days.
We had a wonderful long holiday weekend. My niece and nephews and family came out and we had several glorious days on the boat in lovely weather. We played games and had great food (more chicken than I care to remember) and there was chaos in the dogs and the kids and I loved EVERY . SINGLE . SECOND of it.
My sweet little niece at one point even said with pure glee, "Could this day get any better?"
And it was all I could do not to cry...because it just reminded me that as wonderful and glorious and fun those days with family were...someone was missing. A sweet little boy who had an adorable little 4th of July outfit in a tub in the basement--never to be worn. It was a little white overall outfit with light blue pinstripes and a sweet little appliqued red crab waving a flag and firecrackers. I remembered being on that very same boat in the very same water last year and taking pictures and videos so Matthew would always remember his very 1st 4th of July...and as I sat there this year, I desperately prayed that his little brother or sister would not only have one 4th of July....
I got home on the 4th in the evening and checked the computer because I'd not been on it much with the family in town...and I just couldn't believe what was going on...
Everyone went to bed and before I did, I went in Matthew's room and sat in his chair with his little monkey and just cried. Cried for me, cried for those women...cried for all of us who are hurting and won't ever have any more days that couldn't get any better...
And I'm angry. It's not fair and I hate it. I hate that we weren't promised fair. I hate that we weren't promised our earnest faith would yield the results for which we pray. I hate that this life is hard. I hate that it's full of trials. I hate that it doesn't make sense and I hate that hearts can hurt as much as they do.
So I just remember and replay in my head the Natalie Grant song, "Held"...
Two months is too little
They let him go
They had no sudden healing
To think that providence
Would take a child from his mother
While she prays, is appalling
Who told us we'd be rescued
What has changed and
Why should we be saved from nightmares
We're asking why this happens to us
Who have died to live, it's unfair
This is what it means to be held
How it feels, when the sacred is torn from your life
And you survive
This is what it is to be loved and to know
That the promise was when everything fell
We'd be held
The promise was that when everything fell, we'd be held.