Black enveloping my very existence
Hopelessness – what an ugly word
Yet in the distance I can still sense hope. I hang on to the thread, knowing I will be ok.
I’ve told you over and over if you can bring more glory to your name with me having difficulty seeing than if I had full sight, that was ok with me. Yet, you see my heart. You know my pain and in the moment when the reality of loss hits me and all I see is black, there, in that moment I feel your loving arms engulf me. I know you are God and all is going to be ok. Even if ok means I don’t see any better than I do at this moment again. All that I spent a decade being afraid of, is beginning to become reality.
I feel my faith grow and I instinctively know there is good in pain. It’s one thing for me to say I’ve given something to God. It’s another thing for Him to take it – then I see what’s really in my heart. When that which I love is gone and I can still say, “Blessed be the name of the Lord” – what peace. I relish in that moment. Gone are the carefree, innocent laughs of my youth – replaced with a deep sense of calm and a feeling of maturity.
So, God, when I tell you I release my child to you – I realize as you always have – that it is a two step process. While every fiber of my being wants to cling to him as tightly as I did when he was an infant wrapped in a swaddling blanket, deep down, I know I can’t. It would end in disaster. Everything done apart from you ends that way. Will you take him – if I give him to you? I guess that’s the point of trust. I don’t know now what the future holds. So, while my words give what was never mine to keep, my heart knows that if you do indeed take that which I love, you will meet me inside the darkest black. And in knowing that, I know, come what may, I will be ok.