still in the waiting room

I've been pondering God's heart lately. It's been an emotional few weeks for me, for reasons I'm not entirely clear on. Reason number one is probably the fact that I've fallen down on my face in terms of prayer and time spent with God. Back-up and/or convenient reasons include my own widowhood and how that is still layering on confusion and complexity and pain; loved ones who have experienced their own tragedy recently, be it widowhood or miscarriage (those seem to be themes around me); how my life continues to look so differently than I had ever imagined; how it seems that Rob's and my plans/hopes are being thwarted or delayed.

There are so many things about God that I do not even understand, and while some merely perplex, others can be maddening. I need another dose of the perspective He gave me back when Blake was brand-new, still pink and scrunchy and needing time to fluff. I was juggling grief and new motherhood and I barely remember much of that time. Bits and pieces stick out for no rhyme or reason, but I was deep in survival mode, running on pure adrenaline and stress.

I took Blake in for his first set of shots, and though I'm a pretty practical gal, nerves were running high. I knew that my son would leave hurt, that he would cry, and that even though he couldn't even begin to understand, the pain was just a side effect from something that would be for his good. I began crying before he did, anticipating the confusion and tears, and yet I held him still so that the nurse could do her job.

God walked me into widowhood knowing that I would leave hurt, that I would cry buckets, and that I would not understand. I still don't. I'm not sure, really, what good has come of it, because I am still so focused on how painful it's all been. I cannot even begin to understand it from God's perspective, but somehow, that experience in the doctor's office helped me to see that God's tears at our sorrow are sincere and real. Somewhere in there, that part made sense.