When I Hit My Knees, God Reminds Me....

Ironically to the tailspin this time of year typically sends my depression into, Christmas is my favorite time of the year.

I love giving gifts--year round.  But at Christmas?  It's pure gold.  The more cheer I can spread, the better.  Imagine someone throwing confetti and glitter around while dancing and prancing and flitting around like a five year old child, with a ridiculous smile on her face--that's me.

Two nights ago, I stayed up past midnight doing the near-literal impression of swiping my credit card left and right all over my laptop.

Swipety-swipe, it's Christmastime, people!!!!  Let's DO this!

Man, I was having fun!  I wasn't even buying gifts for my own family.

And for me, that's the really fun part--jumping in feet first for other people.

Last night was another story.

As I scrolled through Instagram, I stopped at one of the Christian pages I follow.  This page supports moms in need--moms who take care of children with high needs, husbands who have had medical crises and now have medical needs, moms who have their own medical needs, and so on.  There's a family with a little boy with cancer we've been praying for since August, although he was diagnosed long before that.  At the beginning of November, he was rallying.  He was going to make it.  He was going to be okay. There were so many of us praying.

The notification on the Instagram page last night was horrible, grim news.

He didn't make it.

He died last week.

I cannot swipe my credit card and bring him back for his family.

I cannot swipe my credit card and end this family's agony.

I curled up on my couch and just cried.  It was that kind of cry--even now, writing this--that kind of keening cry that only a mom can cry when a child, even when he isn't her own, even when she doesn't know him, is lost.

I went out to my front porch, where my front yard is lit up with Christmas lights like a runway, and I just cried.  I just sat there, holding myself, crying, pouring out my heart for this family I've never met.

I hit my knees and I inside my head, I just screamed at God--WHY?  What is the point of this?

I don't know if there is a point to it.  I don't know if I care if there is a point to it--a child died.

There is no silver lining here.

Sometimes, in moments like this, when the world stops, it feels as though I can't go on.  And the world does need to stop.  A little boy died.  A mother is mourning.  I don't want to go on.  What is the point?  The hurt is just too much to bear.  The pain is too much.

And when I think it's too much--I know I have to bear it, I have to teach my children to bear it, I have to continue on because I have my own three miracles to raise and lift up.

There is not a silver lining, but as I know, with every tragedy, when I hit my knees and cannot stand and cannot bear it, I know my God is still standing.  I know He can bear it.

Just as my front yard lights up our street, I am reminded that my Abba is the One who lights up the darkness.

I don't know the 'why,' and God may not give me the answers, but I know my Abba remains sovereign, no matter how tragic the situation is.

My Abba reminds me:
     Look for the helpers--Be the helper.
     Look for the light--Be the light.
     Look the good--Be the good.

I cannot swipe my credit card for this family, and others like them, but I will continue to hit my knees, and I can continue to remind this family they are not forgotten.