I stood and looked around at what a beautiful day it was. What a contrast the cool, fresh breeze was to the thoughts of missing my little girl. I would much rather be taming her wayward brown hair than her grave. I traced the etched letters of her name in the dark stone of her marker and healing tears sprung to my eyes. I wish I didn't have to contemplate what color bow to place on her grave in place of picking out bows and gems for a giggling little girl.
"How is this fair?" I sighed. Deep disappointment brought up anger for a moment. As I looked up at the sky to ask God for some kind of justice, the sun peaked out from behind the straightest and tallest evergreen tree that stretched impossibly high before me, directing my eyes far upward.
Every time I feel that feeling that makes me want to pound the earth, I'm reminded of the unfairness of the Gospel. I don't deserve any of this. I am able to enjoy true joy with my children and share stories of what Mia is possibly doing with Jesus right now because God bought us at a high and miserable price.
No, thoughts of unfairness don't last long in the view of my sweet Savior. A friend gave me a rugged and beautiful sign for my living room that reminds me to "Bless The Lord, O my soul", because by either a tree or a sign... I need to remember.
I don't understand, Lord. I wish You would just bring her back to me. It hurts too much sometimes. And yet, I trust You even down to the smallest detail. You have ironically filled emptiness in me through aching pain in ways I could never have imagined. Help me to love You with my entire heart, soul, mind, and strength, precious Jesus. My heart is not satisfied with less.
