What happens when things are not going quite the way you wanted and life looks dim? I know that somewhere the sun is shining, just not for me at this particular moment in my life. There are acceptable behaviors in any situation, and things that one just should not do. Yet I find myself...considering. Drawn to those things that I would not otherwise want to do. Being pulled away from the comfort and security and peace that I know are waiting for me in the future, after all the grief and frustration has been sorted through. It's rebellion in a simplistic state. I do not want to fall away from what is acceptable. I do not want to do wrong. Yet I'm pulled toward it as a moth draws closer to the flame, disregarding the singe on its wings as it passes ever so close. I can hear, at times so audible and others so soft, the voice of some demon tempting me to partake.
I could, maybe even somewhat easily, distract myself by drawing closer to the One who will never leave nor forsake me. Except that, while I know it's the right thing to do -- the thing that will yeild the best result, the better course -- I feel some anger. Enough to hold back my natural inclination to fall down in praise and worship or turn the pages of my Bible, untouched these last few months. I reason over and over in my mind that of course I need to pour over Scripture and pray with purpose and offer praise and thanksgiving to the Creator. I know it's what is right and true, and more importantly -- what could help me out of the spiraling depression I've felt since the piercing cry that somehow came from within me as I learned that my child had no heartbeat. Yes, this is rebellion borne of anger. And...something else.
Guilt. I mentioned it to my counselor, who posed that I sound like other women she's counseled who have had abortions. Except that is not what my loss was called. It was a miscarriage, followed by a surgical procedure to remove the remains. Yet in my mind I truly believe that I should have passed on the surgery and let God work His miracle if He would, or experience the natural course of a true miscarriage if He would not. But in the midst of the physical pain of the loss and the mental anguish accompanying it, I was forced to make a decision. And so I opted for the easy way to end my suffering. And feel weak and frustrated at my own inadequacy. I should have endured, and not been so quick to give up -- in faith. And yet I couldn't. Even as I was being wheeled into surgery, starting to grow drowsy with drugs and anesthetics, I could hear my soul screaming to stop it all, because I could have faith that God could restore...if not my baby, then at least me. But I abandoned it for comfort and ease. In my mind a worship song from church reverberated, filling my mind with the lyrics and testing my resolve. "Holy, Holy, Holy is the Lord God Almighty, who was and is and is to come. With all creation I sing praise to the King of Kings. You are my everything and I will adore You." It testified to the awe-inspiring presence and greatness and holiness of God. And yet -- somehow I still could not cling to that faith, because I was already despairing at the loss of my child, already sinking down into the claws of depression -- yes, even while trying to reach to Him who could heal me. The devil, you see, was pulling me down. And I let him win the battle that time. And have felt guilty about it ever since.
Because it opened the doors of doubt and despair and anger and frustration and left little room for much else. Leading to rebellion.
Some day soon I know I will have to cast aside the guilt. The pain. The anger. I, the prodigal, will have to run back toward my Father. I know I can count on His open arms, waiting to pull me in and give me the comfort I know is waiting. But I think that, in some effort to punish myself, I am just not ready to release all this hurt yet. So stubbornly I cling to it, disregarding His promises and chasing after all that is vapid and vanishing in life, even if only in my innermost thoughts, while I should be pursuing Him with gusto, relishing His care of me and His everlasting love and forgiveness and...healing. I know I will find it in Him, when I am ready to grow up and give up my childish rebellion...