Barely a Whisper

About a month before my friend died at Christmas, I made a post to social media, "Nothing Can Take My Hallelujah," with my comment in all caps, "DECLARE IT."

Oh my friends, up until the recent past, my hallelujah has been so loud, so declarative, I've felt it so deep. My hallelujah was SO. SURE.  I was positive nothing could shake it. I felt it deep in my bones.  I dared the enemy to give it his best shot. I taunted him. I prayed bold, dangerous prayers.  I've sung with my heart open wide, even in the trials with Avery's health and my own and Ezra's heart, even when tears have streamed down my face, I have declared it well with my soul--God is in control, I know on Whom I could rely.  My arms held high in adoration, or across my chest in a hug, I sang to my Sovereign Savior.

And now--now, I can't raise my arms. I can't even stand for worship. I sit in my seat in the fetal position with my arms wrapped around my legs.  I am shaken to my very core.  I silently beg to be made invisible; I want to be there, I know I need to be there, but I cannot handle being there, I don't want to be seen or have to interact.  I can't raise my voice.  I can barely whisper a prayer, the words to songs, even by rote.  I can't choke them out, for the tears that block their way.  I want desperately to feel something, to feel anything, but it's just not there.  I don't even feel anger, I don't feel bitterness, I'm not sure what I feel.  I feel a sadness sometimes so intense it's physically painful and it doubles me over.  Sometimes there are tears, other times, there's just nothing, I'm left feeling empty.  Sometimes I suddenly feel too much and I desperately yearn for nothingness again.

There is no in-between.

I am tossed overboard, clinging to the driftwood that is my Abba.  Clinging to those He gives me during this time as I'm crashed about by the rapids.  Reminding myself that a wobbly walk is better than no walk at all, as my tired, worn out body is bruised and battered by the sharp, slippery, moss-covered rocks and boulders along the shoreline.

My body is bruised and worn out, my mind is numb and all at once racing, my soul feels crushed and spat upon.

My hallelujah may be barely a whisper forming only inside my head, but I know--God is still in control.  He is still the One on whom I can rely, and still my Sovereign Savior.