Grief

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I never said

"God, how could you?"

or

"Why me?"

or

"Why her?"

I said a lot of other things,

But not those things

and no one would have

been angry

or surprised

if I had said

those things.

but one thing I did say

and it was tough to hear

I'm sure,

was this.

I said

"God Your Son only suffered three days

and I know all about it,

the spear in the side,

the crown of thorns,

the nails in His hands

and feet,

the cruelty of the whip,

and the cruelty of the words

that lashed Him.

but my daughter,

my only,

my only girl.

suffered

for 100 days.

She was cruelly punished by the needles,

and the surgeries,

and the potions,

and so great was her pain and scarring

that we gave up marveling and began to think of it all as normal.

(The washed white-robes,

disbelieved her pain and

when she'd complain they

all but called her insane...

and this was the deepest cut...)

until the facts lay bare

with paper and ink

and x-rays,

cultures,

and bloodletting.

She didn't see dayshine

or nightshine,

or feel natural air on her

for 100 days,

yet,

she was aware of all that happened to her.)

And this part I thought to myself
but
didn't say out loud,
"At least Your son went quickly!"
(I thought it very loud and very hard!)

I waited for a response to my thoughts,
and when none came,
I realized
the my Father
was big enough
to hear it all...
...take it all...
and loved me nonetheless.


But I wasn't done
and since God had not stopped me...
I went on.

"And God,

One more thing.

She was kind

to all who cared for her

(sometimes cruelly, sometimes kindly).

She was grace to those who hurt her

because

she wanted

them

to help her,

to heal her,

to save her...

She wanted to be brave for us

and live for her baby.

I love Your Son, God,

and I know He suffered too...

But

My God,

I think she suffered more."

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