When Nothing Makes Sense

Give Me Faith

I’m sorry if this post seems disorganized and rambling, but I’m feeling a need to purge my thoughts and sometimes they’re not such a tidy, pretty little package (as much as I’d like them to be). It’s like diarrhea of the mind, with thoughts firing back and forth until my head feels like it’s going to explode (sorry for the visual).

My hope is that I can empty it all out and make room for more peaceful, loving and kind thoughts. Thoughts filled with faith and hope, especially during this first Lenten season that I am participating.

What’s on my mind? Grief. The loss of people I love, people who are no longer here; my husband’s upcoming back surgery that puts a desperation and fear into my thoughts that I’ve never experienced before; my own mortality and what that looks like; the recent tragic death of a woman from our church who served on the Pastoral Council with my husband who was shot and killed by her 17-year-old son; the fear when I think about the world that my children are growing up in and the desperation I feel to change it, to do SOMETHING to make it just a little bit better.

My husband called me yesterday afternoon while I was shopping in Portland with my five-year-old son to tell me about, Michelle, the woman who had been killed by her teenage son. Not only did he kill his mother, but he attempted to kill his father who remains in critical condition. As I drove the hour home with my son sitting behind me playing his Leapster, I wondered how such an innocent child could grow up to do something so horrible and inconceivable. Yes, these things happen all the time, but WHY? What happened to that young boy to make him do such a thing? As with so many families and children, everything seemed fine on the outside. Yet, obviously, there was something horribly wrong on the inside.

It’s times like these, I look up and want to scream to God, “Why?!” My husband who just turned 40, who has been the epitome of health his entire life, is having major back surgery in two weeks. I have watched him suffer silently over the past five months, in chronic pain from the shooting pain and numbness that has taken over the right side of his body. A man who has always been afraid to take more than two Advil at a time who is now taking heavy pain meds throughout the day, barely masking the intense pain. My husband who has been a pillar of strength for me throughout our entire marriage who is now the one in need of my strength. His humbleness is beyond anything I could ever hope for myself.

Yes I am worried; yes I am fearful; yes I want to know why. But, I know in my heart of hearts that there’s no answer.

You know, my entire life up until I got sober I was a glass half-empty type person. Ask anyone. I always feared the worse. I always expected the worse. I always admired those glass half-full people. How could they be THAT positive? I know now. I know they had a faith that I never had. A faith that, despite the pain and suffering, it would be okay. It might not turn out how they expected or how they imagined it would, but it would be okay in the end.

I know that family who has just experienced the most horrific tragedy imaginable will continue to suffer greatly. But, I know because of their immense faith in a loving and just God that they will be okay. They will go on and inspire others with their strength and determination.

I know the next two months will be challenging for our family as my husband goes through surgery and recovery. There will be days of immense exhaustion and frustration, but it will be okay. It will be okay because, together, our faith will be stronger than any feelings of desperation and fear that attempt to bring us down.

As I go forward in this Lenten season, I pray that God opens my heart to greater faith, hope, love and kindness.

Let’s all just strive to be kind to each other. I am reminded daily that we never know what someone else is going through. Your words or the way you look at someone could make or break them.

I constantly remind myself of what my sponsor always tells me, “We are all God’s children.”


21 responses

  1. Chenoa,

    I just want you to know that my thoughts are with you tonight.

    Always remember you are doing something to change the world.

    Every letter you pound on your keyboard is part of the greater ideal of helping people quit drinking, which in turns creates a better world for all of us , and that includes our children.

    Much love to you


  2. I know how you feel when the things in your life make the glass look half empty. I admit to always being that kind of girl, too and it can bring me down. Thanks for the reminder to focus on the positive. 🙂

  3. Wow. I am holding space for you today. This is a lot to deal with.
    I know that for me, sobriety has taught me not to “drop my arms.” What I mean by that is, to keep my arms up and open to life, instead of crossed in front of myself, blocking the world out. It’s painful, gut-wrenching, courageous work… that’s the only way, though, that I’ve found that the light, and my HP, gets in.
    It reminds me though of the story in the Bible from my younger years where two of Moses’ right hand men hold up his arms so that the sun stays up longer. Metaphorically, I’m holding your arms up, sister! 🙂 Peace to you…

  4. Hi Chenoa, Oh, I am that person too, I have to work on being positive every day! And I was stuck in that fear based feeling all last month. For me I went from not carrying if I died when I was drinking, to being hyper sensitive about dying. And of course strangely enough I lost some really important people in sobriety. This is a hard one. I think for me it might be about control. Death is probably the least think that I have any control over. I really have to rely on my HP and faith for this one. Be kind to yourself Chenoa, it’s ok to have these feeling, even though they are not quite pleasant. Sending many hugs. And wishes for a smooth operation and a quick recovery for your husband.

  5. Dear Chenoa:

    Being positive, finding the silver lining are things I work to achieve every day. My best of wishes to your husband and your family. My thoughts are with you this morning and I wish him some relief and you some peace of mind.

    P.S. For some diarrhea of the mind, you truly packaged it quite nicely. = )

  6. “Let’s all just strive to be kind to each other. I am reminded daily that we never know what someone else is going through. Your words or the way you look at someone could make or break them.” Couldn’t agree more. Wishing you and your dear family all the best as he goes through the surgery process.

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