For so long I’ve felt as if I’ve been in a storm. When you died it was a hurricane—merciless, intense, and completely devastating.
Then as months passed the hurricane lessened in it’s intensity and it became a heavy thunderstorm. The rain was constant and every so often the lightning would strike or thunder would roll and I’d be hit with another bad day.
In the last few months I’d say that the storm has passed, but the rain hasn’t stopped pouring. The darkness of the rain clouds hasn’t lifted completely, and I’m still left here soaking wet and shaking.
The rain remains in the fact that I still miss you. It remains in the fact that I still have no child to call my own. It remains in the fact that Champ has gone through trial after trial after trial with little to no rest in between.
I read once “if it never rained, then how could we ever grow?” Well, I feel like I’ve been flooded for over a year.
Today it hit me just how tired I am of all this rain. I’m ready for the sun to shine.
In this storm Christ has been my umbrella. He has protected me from the worst of the downpour, but that doesn’t mean that there’s still not a deluge around me.
It’s so hard to not get mad at God in times like these. I know that He is in control of everything, so why can’t He just take away the rain? Why can’t He allow the sun to shine, even if it’s just for a short season? How does it make sense for us to go through all this pain? Each day that I go another night without sleep, or see Champ suffer through another medical problem I think, “Where is the sun? Why is the Lord hiding it from me?”
Sophia, I know the answer to all these questions. I know it’s to wait on Him and trust Him. But sometimes when it seems like your prayers are going unheard and you’ve been forgotten in the midst of the squall it’s hard to do those two things. Wait and trust.
So, here I stand—under my little rain cloud, hands clutching tight to my Savior umbrella, praying for the rain to stop.
Waiting for the sun.