I remember the moment I finally yelled at God and let it all out. I was driving, alone, for the first time in weeks. My husband hadn’t left my side, I hadn’t left my kids because I was terrified to let them out of my sight.
The road wound slowly through town following a river that sparkled in the September sunshine. A few leaves were beginning to turn orange and red and the warmth coming from the bright afternoon sun felt good on my face.
At the time, I noticed none of this because my heart was broken, torn in half, devastated. You can describe grief however you wish, but it is the darkest, loneliest feelings I have ever experienced.
My mom had told me a few days before that I would witness God’s love in a whole new way through my pain.
“I wouldn’t need to if He hadn’t taken my daughter,” I had retorted, the anger no longer able to be hidden.
I had followed God my entire life. I read the Bible, prayed, raised my family in the Truth, I believed the scriptures that promised God would keep His children safe. I put my faith in the verses that said anything we ask in Jesus’ name will be given to us.
Those prayers did nothing as my daughter lay on the side of the road dying. Those angels did not protect her as promised.
For the first time in my life, I doubted the God I knew.
I pulled the car over beside the river and with the windows closed, in the privacy and security of my green minivan, I screamed. I screamed long and loud and I accused God of not being faithful to His word and to the promises I had always believed.
Perhaps my blasphemy deserved fire from Heaven, but I am certain the hurt in my heart reached the throne because from that moment on, I did see God’s love in a way I had never experienced before.
Dear grieving mama, let me tell you a little bit about my daughter, Rebekah.
She was the sunshine of my days, a bundle of energy and activity. She had a smile that could brighten the room and we did everything together.
She was my only girl out of five kids. She left me to wade through all of this testosterone by myself.
She had blond hair, blue eyes, and a petite frame. She loved openly and she loved me more than I deserved. We lost her one August evening in an accident. One moment she was fine and the next she was gone. Just like that.
I know you can relate to the pain in my heart. I imagine you can also relate to my anger. Grief is an ugly emotion, and three years later still finds me sobbing in the shower from time to time.
One of the reasons I write about grief is because I don’t want Rebekah to ever be forgotten. I want the whole world to know that a beautiful little girl lived and our lives are better because of it.
The other reason I write about grief is to remind the broken heart that God hears you. It might not feel like it right now, but I promise you He does.
After my meltdown on the side of the road, I was finally able to allow God to love me. He didn’t take the pain away, but He helped me through it. I couldn’t do it alone, I don’t think anyone can.
Bible verses about His love and presence found me at every turn.
“Fear not, for I have redeemed you;
I have called you by your name;
You are Mine.
When you pass through the waters, I will be with you;
And through the rivers, they shall not overflow you.
When you walk through the fire, you shall not be burned,
Nor shall the flame scorch you.”
I am reminded of the story of Hannah. She went with her husband to offer sacrifices at the tabernacle. Her heart is heavy and she weeps before the Lord begging Him for a child. Infertility is a pain that also breaks our hearts. Eli, the high priest, tells her to go her way, God will grant her heart’s desire.
As a grieving mama, our heart’s desire is to see our children again, right? Obviously, that cannot be granted this side of Heaven, BUT God can help us through the pain. He hears us.
He heard Hannah’s prayer and gives her a little boy, Samuel, who grows up to be a great prophet.
If your heart is in pieces and you are struggling to breathe, I want you to know, God hears you.