Wrestling with God does leave a mark

My heart has been in conflict over various insundry tidal happenings of life since we returned from Maui.

Oh yes - and by the way, we are home! At last. And safely. Though we did experience one of the longest travel legs ever endured in our lives on the way back to the mainland. The culprit was the sheer lack of cooperation of our delightful 17-month old. Yup, sadly, our dear JoyBoy was THAT CHILD on the flight home. You know the one. That one child you can hear from the back of the plane somewhere while you are still boarding, drawing nearer to the deafening noise as you hope with increasing fervency that you do not have the unfortunate luck of being seated next to this ball of energy the whole flight. At least two people on our flight ended up with those lamentable seating arrangements, and our sincere condolences extend to those poor souls. We tried. We REALLY tried. If there was a Nobel Peace Prize for attempts at quieting a toddler, we would have been worthy of consideration for our efforts. We exhausted ample supplies of food, drink, games, paper and crayons, toys, stuffed animals, songs, books, and movies on the COSTCO portable DVD (a worthy indulgence). Ultimately, though, when you are 17 months old, you must MOVE around. When that need goes unmet for too long, you tend to get rather vocal about your growing frustration that you are unreasonably not allowed to use the entire fuselage of the airplane as a personal Jungle Gym.

Sigh.

THAT kid was OUR kid on this flight. Thank God he is indisputably adorable, because his megawatt grin and innocent giggles just may have been our only saving grace from the massive head trauma we'd surely have endured from flying headphones and other makeshift aerodynamic items launched at us by fellow cranky passengers.

But back to the state of my being at the moment...

I have been tossed around this week, quite frankly. Jet lag and typical end-of-vacation-reality-check exhaustion aside, my whole being feels a bit shredded. I have spent much time alone with myself. Sometimes thinking, sometimes crying, sometimes praying, sometimes writing. Primary in my heart is my search for reconciliation and comfort from God over the loss of three year old Clara, whose departure from this earth and battle with disease during her fragile life seems inordinately cruel. The substantial majority portion of me finds peace in not being able to grasp the divine "why's" of such seemingly senseless tragedies we encounter in our lives. But that usually homoestatic part of my soul has slipped into silence over Clara's death, and the rebellious, angry, untamed side of me has surfaced with rare aggression. I have been engaged in discussions with God the likes of which I have seldom ever engaged in. Angry ones. Bitter ones. Ones in which I passionately challenged Him in one breath and begged forgiveness for my lack of faith in the other. Mysteriously to me, this little girls' life and death has so moved me like no other death before hers. I never met her, but I ache terribly because of her. I invested my heart and mind in fervent prayers that God's will would include the undeniably miraculous healing this baby girl, to allow her a full, healthy life.

But His plan is not my plan and He answered my prayer in ways I lament. And God has heard about it this week from me. I so wish that I could claim otherwise, but I went into battle with the Lord of the universe, armed with nothing but righteous anger and a piercing sense of loss. My sadness has had angry tinges to it. I cannot wrap my mind around the possible purpose this sweet baby's death serves in the Lord's plan, save to remind us of the frailty and GIFT of life. Which is no small realization.

We take so doggone much for granted.

As a commitment to tangibly honor Clara, I have been weepy, introspective, but joyfully unafraid to be grateful as it strikes me during the day. I feel, in some ways, as though I am waking up a bit and celebrating the mundane because I'm realizing the simple blessing that I CAN:

My children's' latest Lego creation truly tickled me today as we squealed in delight, destroying it with abandon ~ only to rebuild and repeat the destruction a half dozen more times.

I prayed with LaLa in thankful relief as the Russian sailors who had been trapped 625 feet down in the frigid ocean were heroically rescued.

Hope floated as the sun set just as I was taking the trash out. What an unexpected reward for just doing my chores.

I relished the numerous spontaneous kisses and "I love you's" expressed freely my children each day.

The carefully wrapped package with hand drawn pictures from the "children with no Mommies and Daddies" in South Africa (many of them orphaned as a result of AIDS) thanking LaLa for her gift of their birthday party and wishing her a happy birthday, too. This touching gift brought me into the presence of such innocent hearts of children and saw tears spring.

The extra scoops of vanilla ice cream and chocolate syrup in the extra thick milkshake I made for Copper with dinner tonight. He said it was the best he's ever had. My heart did somersaults.

My wrestling matches with God this week, seeking forgiveness, comfort, and understanding of Clara's passing, has left me feeling as though I am on the threshold of understanding, at the doorway of another space God has created for me to explore in my trek towards Him. Newly humbled (read: cut off at the knees), broken, challenged, sad, hopeful, rawly reminded of the chinks in my own faith armor, and seeking to suck out the marrow of life each day with passion. Because life is not an entitlement. It is a perishable item with an unknown expiration date.

I will again be overwhelmingly focused on thoughts of Clara and her family tomorrow as her funeral is held to celebrate her life and her heavenly homecoming, but yet also mourn the starkness of her absence. My whole person is being taught, sharpened, refined, and changed because of this little girl. And I never even met her.

I stand in grateful awe at the hallowed lessons bring written on my heart from a compassionate and loving Lord through the life of one miraculous child.