This is the longest, hardest road I’ve ever walked. I have to remind myself of where my son is, almost on a moment by moment basis, to have any kind of peace for any length of time. I believe he is in heaven with God, Who is perfect love, and Who is perfectly righteous and just. If I didn’t believe that I would be utterly hopeless. What hope would I have if I believed this, his death, were some random act with no divine forethought or purpose? I would have no hope.
Even believing as I do, that Israel is perfectly perfect in a perfectly perfect place, I still struggle with “why”. Why did he have to go? Why did he have to go at such a young age? Why did he have to leave me? Why did he have to leave our family? Why didn’t God protect him and keep him from that violent collision? Even believing that God took him instantly, I still struggle with that question. I think I’m more double-minded than I thought I was before Izzy’s accident. Or, maybe this constant confused and disjointed thinking is part of the grieving process. He’s fine, but I’m not. He is with God, but I’m struggling to find God in this. He has eternal purpose now, and I’m stuck here on earth feeling like I have no purpose. He was not, is not and never has been my sole purpose in life, but it seems like he is right now when I’m swimming in this grief caused by losing him so suddenly. And, the irony of it is he is not here, he has no more purpose here, there is nothing I can do for him or with him here. He isn’t even aware, that I know of, of the time I spend consumed with thoughts of him everyday all day. He is in eternity with the One I’ve longed to be with for many years. How ironic. This is not the road I envisioned at this point in my life.
I have to find new purpose. I don’t know what that means, or how I will find it, or where I will find it, or even when I will find it. But, I have to find purpose again. I must, if I’m to go on living. I can’t swim in this pool of sorrow forever. I think I’m going to be here, grieving awhile longer, but I’m beginning to see that my life, our family’s life will go on. It will be without him, but we will go on. It hurts to see that in writing, but it is truth. We will go on living, by the grace of God. And, by the grace of God, Izzy will go on in heaven.
Ruth A. Tucker writes:
“Where is God in the vastness of the universe? Where is God among the billions of stars and billions of light years and billions of people on this planet? Easy answers ring hollow. The unruffled, childlike faith of bygone years seems insufficient in the face of scientific discoveries that all too easily engulf God in a black hole. When I look into the night sky, I sometimes wonder whether my faith is a figment of my imagination. Where is God – not the God of the Big Bang, not the unmoved mover, not the ground of our being, but God – this very personal God of the Bible who knows me and who knows my every thought?”
And, Mark Buchanan, in his book, The Holy Wild, continues:
“Where is God when He won’t answer me, or when His answers defy all my most cherished convictions about Him?”
“Trust in the Lord with all your heart and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will make your paths straight.”