So Much Beauty; So Much Pain

If I'm going to have a bad day, it's typically Monday. So, I find myself here, writing. I hope it relieves some of the sadness.

I have a confession. I almost got out of church yesterday without crying.  Almost. Then we sang the song "King of My Heart" by Bethel Music. It was this chorus, sung beautifully by the worship team, that got me:

"You're never gonna let
You're never gonna let me down
And You're never gonna let
You're never gonna let me down
You're never gonna let
You're never gonna let me down
You're never gonna let
You're never gonna let me down"

It continues, on and on, you get the idea. In a normal life, this would be an okay song. Sang with a thankful heart and all the feels. But as a bereaved mom, I couldn't help thinking, but wait, I was let down. I was let down in the most heartbreaking way possible.  My son died. So am I wrong to feel let down?  To be completely disappointed?  To question everything? And who was it that let me down?  Did God let me down?  Did John let me down?  Did my own expectations let me down?  Because, again, if we are being honest, I feel really let down. If only . . . if only he wouldn't have joined the Army, played hockey, got injured, been let down himself, felt trapped in his pain. If only is a dangerous place to go. It doesn't help. A song like this delves straight to your core and forces you to ask the question: "Why God"?  You could have woke me up. You could have stopped this, prevented it, helped us, saved him.  Didn't we pray enough? Didn't we pray right? Are we being punished?

And then I have to give myself the pep talk.  People have free will, bad choices led to bad consequences, we live in a broken world, we are not immune, why not us...yeah, yadda, yadda, yadda.  I get all that.  It's really easy to spout it all off too - until you meet up with a horrific tragedy. Then all these words mean nothing.  Then you get down on your knees or your face and have some really serious conversations with the Father.  And He's okay with that.  It's necessary and inevitable.  

He knows I'm hurt. Angry. Devastated. Sad beyond description. He is too.  That's what makes it livable. Survivable. Because to be honest, I wonder most days how we will live through this.  But knowing He is in control, and that I will see John again...that's what keeps me going.  The hope of eternal life. Reunion. Redemption. The prayers of others.

I probably didn't do myself any favors this week by joining three Facebook Groups for bereaved mothers. One is solely for mothers who lost their child or children to fentanyl. One is a Christian mom's group for loss due to substance abuse disorder, and the other one is also a grieving mom's group, for those of us who've lost children to the drug epidemic.  In hindsight, one might have been sufficient, especially considering all the other grief groups I was already in or follow. So much sadness and loss. It's good to have a place to go with people who understand, and words that make sense, but total immersion, as it turns out, maybe isn't good for this heart either. I really am finding that I need some distance from the world and all the sadness in it.  I'm taking some time to heal, and I think that's okay.

I was talking to a lovely new friend the other night, and she filled me in on a conference she attended on this topic. The speaker used this analogy to describe this current epidemic. (She did a better job of retelling it, but bear with me). 

If a plane crashed everyday, and we lost 200 people each time, how long would it take for the cry of outrage, for solutions, for an end to whatever was causing the problem?  But, because it's drugs, the 200 people who are dying each day across America virtually go unnoticed.  

I saw a comment on a post last week where a woman said "if they wouldn't stick needles in their arms"...such a stigma. Such a stereotype.  So much ignorance in the face of this national crisis. What about the people of all ages becoming addicted to painkillers after being told they were safe and non-addictive?   Does anyone question the lawsuits against contracting mesothelioma from exposure to asbestos? How is being given handfuls of a highly addictive drug different?  What about the ratio of sports injuries to drug addiction? Who are these "people" that you think wake up one day filled with evil desires and go out and start "shooting up". People, this is a crisis.  Not a lifestyle. There are truckloads of fentanyl being smuggled into our country - capable of murdering millions of people.  Fentanyl is considered "chemical warfare".  If this isn't a national emergency, I don't know what is.

This time of year has always been hard on me.  I think it's the end of my favorite season: summer, and the changes it brings.  Now it's a countdown to the one year anniversary of our loss.  November will be here before we know it.  I always dreaded the day when the kids would go back to school and the husband would be busy in the field.  I know many of you feel the same way - and struggle with feeling down or maybe even suffer from Seasonal Affective Disorder around this time.  I'm a sunshine lover and I like it hot!  John loved winter - we were so different in that respect.  He purposely left for the Army in January. Summer in Georgia was not his idea of a good time. Alaska was nice and cool, albeit a horrible place for him, as it turns out.  So much beauty and so much pain.