Death and Hurt and Transparency

Sam pretty much got what he wanted. I know that's not the way kids are supposed to be raised, but he did. He could just crack that sweet crooked smile, giggle that giggle that twisted my heart every time, and say, "auntie" until my heart almost bursted, and I gave him whatever he wanted. Such a little punk sometimes.

I just finished watching a movie about a girl who died of cancer. Laid in my bed and cried like a baby. Definitely pathetic. I think I needed an excuse to let myself hurt. They dragged out her death, it was agonizing. I couldn't help but think what Sam was thinking as the life left his body. I don't mean to be morbid, just transparent. I hope he wasn't scared. I hope he didn't feel alone. I hope he knew how much he was loved.

I feel silly to cry. I feel like it's something that should be easy to get over. But truth is, it's easy to ignore. It's easy to try and block out the fact that a child you held so dear to your heart is no longer living. It's easy because I'm not there. I'm not in the bed we used to have sleepovers in. I'm not in the yard we used to run around. I'm not emptying his urinal during a sickle cell crisis. I'm in America, removed from everything that could remind me of him, minus a few pictures and precious videos. Sometimes, much like right now, I want to cry and for someone just to say, "yes, cry, beat your fists against the wall and scream as loud as you want." That would feel good.

Maybe this is how Mary and Martha felt. Lazarus was on his deathbed and they sent for Jesus; but he didn't come. Not for three days. Oh the agony in the heart of these women. Lazarus was dying and the man that claimed to be The Son of God didn't come to save him. He waited. I probably would have lost all faith right then and there. If Jesus loved Lazarus why didn't he go as fast as he could? I ask this question often. If Jesus loved Sam why didn't he save his life? It's not fair. It doesn't seem fair. Read on... When Jesus arrived Lazarus was already dead. And Jesus wept. Wait wait wait, this doesn't make sense. The man, who is God himself in the flesh, waited until Lazarus died, went and then wept?! Oh how precious it is that our Jesus weeps with us. He mourns death. He wept with the women, and he weeps with me. He knows the hurt better than I. I think Jesus also wept because they couldn't see what was coming. He wept because the women did not yet know His plans to raise Lazarus. To prove himself more powerful than death. I can't know right now the greater purpose in Sam's death. I may never know. But Jesus does, and He weeps over our loss, over our fleshly blindness that does not see what has not yet happened.

Glory Glory Glory. What a beautiful plan we get to be a part of.

When I think about the hurting now, often the pain and frustration of not understanding the greater plan, I like to think of Sam. His sickle cell caused many agonizingly painful days and nights. Sam knew physical pain better than most kids his age. He tasted Hell on this earth and endured with gracefulness. I want to learn from Sam. Learn to be joyful in the pain, to focus on anything but what I don't understand. I will focus on what I do. Christ and him crucified. God and His character. Never changing and promise keeping.

I don't understand. But He is a promise keeper.