Disappointment

So, this subject matter is a little sensitive. I’ve pretty much cried through the writing of the entire entry. Just so you know …

What do you say when God says to you that He wants to expose the root of the inability to move past disappointment and bring healing that leads to freedom? My response … “Um, how painful is that gonna be, God, and do we have to do it in public?”

Of course I said okay. What else am I going to say? This dull ache in my chest and constant overshadowing of doom and gloom in my life is getting old. I realize that part of this is my personality … all of the Psych literature says that one of the biggest issues for people with my type is inability to deal with disappointment in a healthy way … we internalize it and it either goes the route of anger or depression. Anger was my outlet during my teen years. Depression won out in the end as the years wore on and the anger brought on consequences and comments like, “You have no right to be angry about anything” from my family. Besides, depression was easier to hide … so it won.

Just so you know, I chose to leave the prayer room a little early in favor of having my breakdown at home. I figured that the people at IHOP have seen enough of my face with a runny nose, bloodshot eyes and flecks of tissue stuck to it. When I got home, I found lots of things to distract me for all of fifteen minutes – put the garbage by the curb for pickup, clean up my room a bit, floss. God caught my attention and let me know that He knew that I was procrastinating. So, I sat down beside my bed … and immediately He started to speak.

Now, lots of people ask me “How does God speak to you? How do you hear Him so clearly? How are you sure it’s Him??” My answer to all of those is, “I don’t know. It’s just always been like that.” Sorry. It’s the same in this case as well.

As I closed my eyes, I saw that familiar (and really good-looking) face look at me and extend His hand. I put mine in His and almost immediately I was taken back to my childhood home, just coming home from school and needing to go to the bathroom. (Those bus rides were ridiculously long for no reason at all!!) I walked past the two bedrooms on the left to get to the bathroom at the end of the hall. In doing this, I passed my parents’ room and saw them sitting on the bed, crying. I’d never seen my dad cry before, and I remember that although I wanted to know what was going on I knew better than to interrupt the grown-ups (since my parents were of that whole era where they believed that children should be seen and not heard and had no part in serious “adult” conversation). So, I hung around their bedroom door, just out of sight … and I heard them talking about my oldest sister being diagnosed with breast cancer. She was twenty-five at the time. I was nine.

Now, as a nine year old I had no clue that life as I knew it was about to be forever changed. I just assumed that the whole business would be taken care of and things would continue on as they had been. But, as you can guess, that’s not what happened.

So next, God fast-forwarded about five years in time. I saw myself at fourteen, sitting in my closet in the dark, crying and rocking myself back and forth. This was the day I found out that my sister wasn’t coming home because she’d died in the hospital. I assumed that this visit to the ER would be like every other since her relapse … she’d be there a couple days, get treatment, then come home and I’d take care of her.

As I remembered this picture, so many thoughts came back to me from that time … I should’ve taken better care of her - it’s my fault that she’s gone and everyone’s going to blame me … God took the wrong one – He should’ve taken me and left her … I never got to say goodbye. I have to admit that the stupid things that people say at funerals to the family didn’t help the matter much. By the time that rolled around, my parents and siblings were so wrapped up in their own grief that they didn’t notice that I wasn’t dealing with mine well. (And this is not an indictment against my family … who innately knows how to grieve the loss of a loved one? They were as unprepared as I was.)

Over the years I’ve eventually grown to understand that God ending her suffering and answering her cry to let it be done was His goodness. That goodness, however, was overshadowed by immense pain and loss on my side. You have to understand – Wendy was like a second mom to me. She was sixteen years older than I was, had traveled the world with the military, was a fun/life of the party type person who’d never met a stranger, who laughed loud and had a personality I could identify with … not to mention the fact that she was the only one in my family that took the time to really know who I was as a person. She was the only one who knew that I loved peach pie and not apple, didn’t mind that I played with Barbies until I was thirteen and let me bake and decorate cakes with her. She bought me fun stuff, not just things I needed for school. She let me watch cartoons and took us (her kids and me) to the swimming pool. She cooked foods that were different (not just Trini) and wasn’t afraid of physical affection. Life with her was a direct contrast to what I had when I went home to be tortured by my two “adult” brothers (who were in their late teens, early twenties at the time).

So, today God showed me that although I’d “gotten over” her death, I’ve never truly mourned the loss. I’d cried, I’d asked the question why, been angry, and eventually come to terms with the fact that He took my sister home to be with Him, but I’d never really mourned the loss of her life and friendship. And he showed me that this is where bitterness towards Him came in.

It’s a common story, really. I was blindsided by her death, angry that the God who could’ve done something, didn’t. In this, the idea of a God who “can” move but “doesn’t” was born. You have to understand – I’ve never doubted His ability … only His willingness, and ultimately His heart of “love” for us. I can hear the accusation of my heart even now – what kind of loving Father can move on behalf of His child, but doesn’t? This question has overshadowed just about every aspect of my life. It has also been the driving force of the performance-driven nature of my relationship with Him up to this point … the drive to obedience, so that maybe, just maybe I’ll feel better about myself and perhaps win His favor and He’ll move on my behalf.

So this is where we are. Even as I read this it sounds like I’m just a spoiled brat who is upset with God because I didn’t get my way (which is how I’ve heard myself described when I’ve explained this in the past … not very helpful). As I sit here writing this out, though, He’s had to remind me that what He sees is more the fourteen year old in her closet, trying not to draw attention to herself by banging her head against the wall to make the pain in her chest stop than the eighteen year old who didn’t get the truck she wanted from her parents.

Today He’s also showed me that:

• there was nothing I could’ve done (right or wrong) to save her. Healing is His work, not mine.
• there is no such thing as a perfect world … and I can’t create one no matter how hard I try.
• no amount of good behavior or extreme obedience will change the fact that my life is in His hands.
• I have a great family.
• no matter how much I want Him to move in a situation, His timing is what will be (and it’s perfect).
• no matter how much I’m hurting, He still loves.
• no matter how caged in I feel, He still loves.
• no matter how disappointed I am, He still loves.
• no matter how much His goodness is overshadowed by pain in my life, He still loves.
• even if this ache in my chest never goes away, He still loves.
• if someone that I love dies tomorrow, He still loves.
• if the only work I can find is at Target, He still loves.
• even when disappointment creeps in with regard to how He created me, He still loves.
• when I’m angry or disappointed, He still loves.
• if none of the words of pictures He’s given me over the last year come to pass, He still loves.
• if people look at my lfie and think, “Man, what a waste! She should be doing xyz!”, He still loves.
• even when I feel like I’m missing the point (and don’t feel His love and don’t know how to receive it), He still loves.