Waiting for the Sun (46 Weeks)


Precious Sophia,

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.




2 thoughts on “Waiting for the Sun (46 Weeks)

  1. Kirra,
    I am the Lisa, wife of an Army Colonel, and I have followed your blog for some time now. We received our household goods yesterday, our 12th move in 25 years of marriage. I was so stirred by yesterday’s cry for sun, that I wanted to share with you the sunshine you’ve brought to me.
    During my husband’s last year long deployment to Afghanistan, (his 7th) I would get so weary at times and fear would consume me. It was so well timed how God would steer me to your blog and remind me of your struggles so that I could pray for you and your sweet girl. Prayers for you were a refuge for me to distract me…let me give you one example. On Good Friday I received a call from my husband who was yelling, “Lisa, pray for us, You’ve got to pray! I am okay but just pray,” and the phone went dead. I didn’t hear from him until 3 days later. I later learned When he called there had been an accident on the side of a mountain. It was dusk and radios were cutting in and out. He was the Battalion commander with 700 soldiers under him. He circled the site by air throughout the night trying to determine if it was a result of enemy attack, etc. He said he had never been so worried about his men than at that moment. The scene was a result of failed breaks on a vehicle which ran down the mountain and hit two locals. It took a week to clear the accident while fearing attacks from the enemy and calming the families of the local people. During that time I remember praying for him and for you. My fears were calm when I prayed.

    Another time my husband ran a convoy of vehicles to a site where a school had been destroyed by the Taliban. Two vehicles crossed a bridge in front of him and just as he went to cross, the bridge was blown up by enemy devices, just missing his vehicle and the guys in front. It was a 3 day fight, which I didn’t know about until later. In my journal, I was praying for you. Today my soldier is home and he returned safely with all 700 with him.

    I have no idea why the sun seems so distant from you now. What I know is that your struggles have helped me through some really dark and lonely times. It’s not about pity but about watching you claim your faith in God through this. You are amazing. I’ve often asked myself if I could be as faithful as you, doubting that I could.

    There are scriptures that talk about jewels in our crown, the very crown we will lay at Jesus’ feet some day to offer our thankfulness to him. I am convinced your jewels will be too numerous to count and your crown too heavy to carry in reward for the lives you and your angel have touched through this darkness. Sophia will be healed and she can help mommy carry it. Press on, sweet girl, and know that your life is touching so many. I pray the sun will come soon, if only enough to warm your face and know that God has got you and your precious family. Your burden is heavy, more so than most, but all the questions will be answered someday. And when they are, you won’t remember what you were asking because our promise is we won’t remember our struggles here. Be encouraged and know that I am praying for you. It’s what get me through.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s