Finding the Grace

I'm not sure how I got to it (I think possibly a link from John and Brandy's blog) but tonight, I found a video interview of a couple who just experienced the loss of a child. It's strange because, although their circumstances are so completely different, as Angie (the mom) spoke, I heard my own thoughts spoken...I mean exactly what I've been thinking and feeling not only since my Dad died, but even in the weeks leading to it. She completely described the turmoil I was experiencing while he was in ICU. She spoke of the strange balance between preparing for the worst while still holding on to the hope that God will perform a miracle. That was EXACTLY where I was in those two weeks I spent in the ICU waiting room.

Even as we watched my Dad's blood pressure drop, his heartrate slow, and his oxygen sats plummit, I remember still thinking, "God, it's not too late. I believe you can still heal my Dad even now in this moment where every scrap of evidence is pointing to the contrary, I believe you can. So, please, God, heal my Dad." I guess I spent more energy holding on to hope than preparing for the worst because when the worst happened, I was completely disappointed in God. I felt abandoned. I felt silly for expecting a miracle. I began to ask questions like, "Who really gets miracles anymore?" I was angry with myself for believing God would heal him and I was angry with God for not doing so. Perhaps I am still.

Angie said something that really resonated with me. It's something I would have said I already believed, but I have never really had an opportunity to trust it until now. She said, with God, there are no plan b's. My dad's death was plan A from his conception. And, although, I've been caught off guard, God hasn't. Strangely, that brings me a little peace. I guess I'm learning a new way to trust God. I'm no longer trusting that he's always going to show up big and keep me comfortable with my plan A, but I'm having to trust him as he is carrying out his.

I must admit that this kind of trust is uncomfortable. It stretches me beyond the place in which I feel secure and puts me in a place where I can no longer make sense of life. I can only try to trust that God's plan A is working for my good.

God's plan A doesn't feel like it's working for my good. It hurts so deeply that the pain is indescribable. His plan A has brought me despair like I've never known. His plan A took my Dad out of my life and forever changed me. But, for some reason, for this small moment in time, I am finding the grace to trust him.