There was actually a point in time that I thought getting a puppy might make me feel better. Then there was the time I begged my husband for a vacation. If I could just get away for a while, have a change of scenery, I know I wouldn't feel so sad. I have tried buying furniture, cutting my hair off, eating chocolate, drinking tea, and running a half marathon. I even contemplated leaving my marriage and getting an entirely new life. After all, if my husband was a better husband I wouldn't hurt so badly right? If I had more time to myself or more money or could get more sleep it would certainly be easier to cope. Maybe if I had another baby I would feel better? There has to be some way to make my pain go away...and I am determined to find it.
I haven't found it.
And I keep doing that to myself. Convincing myself that somehow I can put an end to my sadness. But I went on vacation, and it didn't help. And cutting all my hair off only made me cry more. I tried to run it out of me but even 13.1 miles was not enough. The truth is a thousand miles wouldn't be enough. And my husband is not to blame either. He has been as supportive as he can be. I have tried everything. And I still hurt.
I just want to know when I won't hurt anymore?
The hardest thing for me to accept about my girls' deaths is that even God's comfort and restoration does not take the pain away completely. The pain is a part of my life now. Some things cut too deeply to ever really heal this side of heaven. I will never wake up to discover that the pain is finally gone. Nor will I ever find anything that can take it away. But I trust that God will help me carry this burden so I am not crushed by the weight of it. And I know God will continue to use my pain to draw me closer to Him. It is in Him I find refuge, where I am free to feel pain and relief simultaneously, where I can cry and laugh at the same time, where sadness and hope coexist.
I don't think healing should be measured by a decrease in pain, but instead by an increase in hope. I think of Paul. The more he suffered, the more hopeful he became. I want that kind of hope. I would rather have hope like that than less pain. I think six months ago I would have said less pain. But today I choose hope. My pain is still very real, but hope is real now too. Morning is coming.