Friday, April 20, 2018

Where are you, Lord?



April 20, 2018

Brooke's drawing I found in her backpack from school yesterday
Imagine yourself holding a balloon tied to a string in a wind storm. The balloon is whipping around in the air, out of your control. You are holding onto it with all your might and within seconds the balloon slips from your finger tips and soars into the sky going higher and higher until you can no longer see it. This is what my faith looks like right now. Hanging onto that string of hope, but seeing it slip from my finger tips.


Last week I spent 5 days in hospital in the crisis assessment mental health unit after receiving an e-mail that there are issues processing my life insurance claim, something that the girls and I are heavily relying on to keep going forward without Ben. This traumatic nightmare doesn't seem to be ending. My 5 days in hospital allowed me to sleep and try and get myself back on my feet but I am struggling. Panic, high anxiety and a deep sadness are things I am faced with on a daily basis right now. I was doing a lot better until I received that one e-mail. You see, like many people, Ben and I thought we were doing the right thing by committing to a monthly payment that would provide us with life insurance in the event that one of us should pass. No one signs on the dotted line, commits to making a monthly payment just for fun. We were a young family on a budget. That monthly payment we made to this company was a jump for us but we made it work. We were investing in our future in the event that him, or I, were left with the responsibilities of raising two children on our own, paying a mortgage and of course all the other expenses that come along with life. There were many times through Ben's illness that he would look over to me and say, "Amy, I know this is going to be really hard for you when I am gone, but I am so thankful that you will have this life insurance money so that you can raise the girls in our home and not be stressed financially". Those words stuck with me. It was the only way sometimes that I could keep going forward. Knowing that we had planned for this and that I could spend the time trying to get back on my feet, helping our daughters grieve the loss of their daddy, but not have to worry financially brought me some comfort. Unfortunately, people who don't even know you are left to decided whether to accept or deny your claims. And thus begins, an extremely challenging time in my life, yet again, a legal situation while grieving the loss of the one person I loved with all my being, all while struggling with high anxiety that this situation can be resolved.



The constant life battle I seem to keep facing, as well as the loss of my family unit, is making me feel like my God is so far away. I have been faced with years of stress and huge life changes. If He doesn't want us to struggle or hurt, why are we struggling and hurting? I cannot tell you how much time I have spent on my hands in knees in prayer asking God to help me. I feel like I'm pleading with the air at this point.

I distinctly remember the first summer Ben was on chemotherapy. Our sweet Kendal was just over a year old. Now imagine this... your one year old baby is sound asleep in her crib, her night light glowing in the room. She is cuddled up tight under her covers. You walk in to check on her after a day filled with bad news that your 30-year-old husband will not survive his cancer diagnosis. What do you do? How do you feel? I remember placing both my hands on her crib, staring down at our precious baby and crying, heaving out to God... "Lord, this is my family in which you have blessed me with. This baby girl needs her daddy. I want her daddy to be here for her. He can't miss her life. Please Lord, heal my husband so that our family can be together". I felt myself slide down the side of her crib onto the floor, sitting next to her while she slept, weeping, pleading with God. I eventually found the energy to get up off the floor and crawl into bed next to my dying husband and fell asleep. My husband passed away almost 3 months ago now. Did he hear my cries?

Month after month I am asking God if he is still here, do you hear me? do you hear any of the prayers that are being called out on my behalf? Because I'm starting to feel like my voice is just something I hear alone. Yesterday I went to visit the cemetery where my Ben lay to rest. Standing over the pile of dirt and staring at his name on the marker in the ground, I just wept. The burden has been too heavy. I asked if he could see what I am having to deal with and cried out that I missed him so much. Lord, where are you?? Can you not hear my cries??

It is so easy for someone who has not found themselves in these shoes to say "be strong" "have faith" "don't give up" "don't worry"... Spending 5 days in hospital being treated for a mental break down was my lowest. Those days were the most challenging days, even compared to the week when I had to bury my husband. Please be patient with me. I am not looking for advice, I am simply looking for love and support at this time.

Thank you to my family and closest friends who helped me get back on my feet last week. For caring for my babies while I take a timeout. For visiting me in the hospital to remind me that I am not alone. For those who went to my house and did a huge spring cleaning for me so it wasn't on my plate. For the meals. For the non-stop support. I know I am loved. I feel the love every day from you. Thank you.

I would take this time to ask for prayer requests, but I really am feeling defeated by prayer. Maybe, if your reading this, you can find it in your heart to figure that out for me. I hope some day soon I can log into this blog and start writing about good things, fun things, insightful things. For now, I continue to walk this difficult path and am needing the support of others at this time. I am doing my best every day to comfort my 5-year-old in her grief and reminded everyday how much the girls miss Ben. I need my army of supporters to continue to walk with me. Matter of fact, I need the army to walk in front of me and help carry the girls and I at this point. I wish you where here Ben, for all of this wouldn't be so hard.