I will always think of our relationship in terms of before and after.
Not in the “Christian” way of before and after I received you as my Lord and Saviour.
But in the way of before and after my son died.
It is no surprise to you, this redefinition of relationship terms on my part.
I have never doubted that You had known from the very start what You had put in my womb.
You knew my baby was only being lent to me for a very short time.
You also knew me, as you had created me and You knew where his death would lead me.
You had made me head strong.
You had given me the gift of questioning the givens.
And the gift of writing.
And the one of being loud about my upsets.
So You had known, from the word go, that I would not stand by and accept the pain of losing my son with “dignity.”
You had known that his death would transform me.
Profoundly and forever.
You had known that I would come through the experience more head strong, louder, with much more to ask and ponder on in my writing.
I had accepted you for what my life experience had shaped you into being.
A distant yet caring protector.
Which I had never seen performing miracles yet sort of believed would prove Himself to me, need be.
Someone I was afraid of in some ways, someone I knew partially and superficially, someone I hoped would let me into heaven when the time came.
I have accepted you for the vast mystery that You are and will forever remain to me, until the day I cross the threshold of the flesh into eternity.
A presence. Unmistakable, unshakable, uncanny.
God, as in the One who is who He is. Who does not need to justify Himself to me. Or prove His point. Or His existence. Or His purposes.
Not once did you speak to me, in all these months. Not once.
There was nothing to say, I realised. In front of Death, You just stood still.
I only realised these days, a year and a month after my son died, that in your book, love is.
Love just is.
Love was never meant to heal.
Love was never meant to prove itself.
Love, in its thickest, in the darkest, in the most mundane is simply…presence.
I know that You have been present in all of it.
It does not make me feel any better, you know?
That is another thing we misunderstood about pure, plain, old-fashioned love.
Love is not there to make anything better.
Not my pain. Not my baby’s pain.
It was never meant to heal or extravagantly transform anything.
We have been watching too many movies.
Love does not have miraculous qualities.
Love simply is.
I have stopped expecting anything of You, you know?
Of course you do, silly me…
I have stopped expecting things to happen, prayers to be answered, miracles to take place.
I have come to accept You for what you are.