Standing in church tonight, we sang about our powerful, merciful and loving God who created the world and holds all things together. I wondered what my children think about God, as He allowed their sister to be taken by death. Do they trust and love Him? Do they believe He exists and actually is all powerful? And if they do, do they feel He loves them, is merciful to us, and cares about our family? Their world has been shaken at such a tender age. Maisie saw her little sister’s body after she died, the sister she loved and knew for 9 years. She cried and held her hand while it turned cold. Poppy dislikes church and complains about going every time, and she is less cheerful and carefree. I pray God will heal their hearts, as this is something beyond my ability to fix. He has to heal our broken hearts; I insist on this prayer being answered. His word promises to do so.
Death is our tough reality, and it makes it hard for me to sing praise to God. I usually steel myself to make it through worship, feeling numb and detached. It’s easy to sing songs of praise when things are great, life is good and God’s blessings are bountiful. When you’ve lost someone you love, it’s a sacrifice and an act of faith and obedience to praise God. It’s an offering that I would guess is precious in God’s eyes. Tonight as we sang In Christ Alone, I cried for the first time in many months. This song, which we sang at Fiona’s funeral, reminds me that God really does love us. He chose to lay down His life for me, to defeat death and its sting. He is my solid rock I can stand on.
This truly is a mystery, why God chose to work things out for mankind the way He did. As mysterious to me as why He didn’t use His power to answer my prayers to heal Fiona. Although He slay me, still I will praise Him. Even though I’m hurt, angry and heart broken this Mother’s Day weekend. I am thankful for the children here with me, and I know that each day with them is a gift.