I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us. Romans 8:18
Grief seems to be a catalyst to some pretty serious soul searching. I know it has been in my situation and, from my talks with others who are in various stages of the grief process, it seems to be true for others as well. Not only have I been trying to process why this happened and how I am supposed to shape my life going forward around the huge hole that Dad has left, I’ve also found myself working to reconcile what happened and what I am feeling with my spiritual beliefs.
The hospital chaplain and I prayed at the foot of Dad’s hospital bed for his complete healing as the Code Blue team worked on him. We prayed for the medical interventions to be successful, for the staff to be able to locate the unknown source of the problem, for Dad’s failing heart to be restored. But even as we prayed these prayers, I knew that it might not happen. Now understand, I do not believe that God caused Dad’s heart attack. We live in a fallen world and lots of bad things happen. I do, however, believe to my core that God could have healed Dad in those frantic moments. But he didn’t.
What do I do with that? How do I, or anyone, reconcile a loving God with the heartache that I know he could have saved us in the blink of an eye? This is where I have to fall back on all of the beliefs that I have when the world is not falling apart. If I have learned nothing else in my almost 50 years, it is that God has a perfect plan of which we can only see a small fraction. And we tend to understand even less of it.
Humans usually learn best through experience. Babies learn as they begin to toddle around the edge of furniture that they must hold on to something solid as they make those first steps. They learn this after a few experiences with gravity. School children grumble about the homework they must do, but realize on test day the benefits that are gained from those less than joy-filled assignments. They look back and say “Now I understand why I had to read that chapter!”. It was the same with me and some painful experiences that I went through. There were episodes in my life that I would not have willingly gone through, things that I cried to God to save me from, but could look back later and see that those times were integral in bringing me to a place of even bigger blessings from God.
Of course I still miss Dad desperately. Of course I still wish he was here with me. But I am able to trust on God’s promises and believe in his plan enough to know that there is a reason for this. I can make some guess, but I don’t think I’ll ever really know on this side of heaven. Maybe if he had survived the code he would have been a much weaker version of himself, or even mentally impaired from the lack of oxygen during the extended code. Dad greatest fear was to have a long period of suffering at the end of his life. To be a burden to someone. He wanted to go quickly, so it sort of was an answered prayer for him. Maybe, had he survived the code, he would have had the heart attack at home, alone. At least this way I was by his side, loving on him, until the very end and didn’t have the What Ifs of finding him at his house. I just don’t know what the truth of God’s plan is in this instance. But I have the amazing peace of knowing that it is playing itself out, day by day.
I'll admit, I don't have it all reconciled in my mind yet. Not having any big doubts, per se, just trying to figure some of the finer points. I've always been a person who likes to understand how things work, so letting something this big go with a simple "I'll understand some day" is not really my nature. I'm getting closer, though.
And, for now, I am trying to remind myself that the sorrow that we have when we lose loved ones on this earth, as absolutely devastating as it can be, is nothing…nothing…compared to the joy that we will have when we are all reunited, healthy and whole and in the presence of the Lord. I actually find comfort in knowing that I really can’t even fathom the grandness, the peace, the love that will exist in that moment.
So, until we meet again...
