I’m going through something and it’s really hard. Very hard. I think this comes third, only to one death and one almost death experience in the family. So this is pretty high up in the pain, stress and anxiety scale. And, just like in the last two difficult experiences, I have no idea what to do. I find myself struggling to pray, too fraught to write, refusing to adapt to a new normal.

I’m sad. The sort of sorrow that sits, heavily, in the hollow of your belly and intermittently races up to your heart in sharp shocks.

I long to pray, but lift my hands in worship and they fall heavily back to my sides. Curl my lips to speak, to sing, and hear an echo of stillness, nothingness. I find that I pray the least when I need it the most. (Every interpretation of that sentence is correct. Strangely. Sadly).

My husband reminded me this morning that this is the time to fervently bear down in prayer.

But, how?

I am angry, angry at God…and I just don’t want to speak with Him right now.

And I said that. But, God is funny. He leaves these little notes around when He knows I am in no mood for Him and they meet me where a typical prayer might not reach me. Today, it was a sentence in an article that marked the avalanche’s beginning. It was an article that appeared to be on one topic, and then randomly, veered into the words: hard times deepen your relationship with God. It said adversity reveals important things about you…and about God, to you. I realized that it is often in my sadness that I reach a stillness, a unique focus. I am so forlorn that everything else is quieted in comparison. And often in that silence, God reaches me.

I learnt something recently, silence is not absence.

I was recently playing peekaboo with my baby.  Right now, I am his favourite and he is quite clingy. I had to put him down to brush my teeth. He immediately began to wail, for his angels to beat me up or what I know not. To keep him manageable, I turned my brushing into a game. Parents y’all feel me?!?! I would be in the toilet brushing and pop my face out to his responsive smile every 6 seconds or so. After doing this for many minutes, I thought he had some measure of assurance that I was around him even though he couldn’t see me. So, I started rinsing. This took an extra two or three seconds longer than my son expected. We had gone from 6 seconds per time to 8/9?! Y’all, the wailing started like I hadn’t shown up 7 times before! I’m thinking, hush little man! I have popped my head out, right on time, every. single.time, to assure you that I’m still here. This one time that I take a minute or two extra, longer than you think I should, because I am doing something beneficial, you’re wailing like I have never shown up for you before?!

Bruh -_-

Ah. It hit me. This is God and me in action!

“From six disasters he will rescue you; even in the seventh, he will keep you from evil.”

Job 5:19

I remembered this story today, in the midst of my struggle. I am still not there THERE with God, I won’t lie to you. But, I am getting there. I am trusting that even if His head doesn’t pop out right now, I will learn the lesson He wants me to through this experience. I believe that I will be better for it.

And, I am open.