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Sunday: severing pain and surgery--a thief in the night.
I choose: to scream and to pray, as I lay upon the altar.
but there is no ram in the thicket
no angel stops the knife
that stabs three times
and robs me of all future labors
Monday: salty tears flow freely and often for an empty, aching womb.
I choose: to live, to hurt, to cry:
why lead me by miracles
to the edge of the Red Sea
and part the waters
if only to let them crash upon me?
Tuesday: aching heart and open anger--an impossible maze.
I can't choose: an indifferent God; no God; a cruel God.
I have heard the God who Weeps.
I know of supernal comfort.
I have been embraced by divine love.
I cannot choose: human error.
He called to me.
He asked me open the door.
He provided a way. He healed each loss.
Now he lets the door
sever from its hinges;
lets them stitch it shut?
So call me Mara,
for today I choose to see
the bitter hand dealt to me.
While friends and family choose to give me sweets,
and flowing days of food,
flowers to brighten,
boxes to hit,
words to comfort,
pictures to color
Wednesday: fatigue and sorrow.
I choose: the forgetfulness of sleep. Forever.
But my husband seeks me, wakes me, cuddles me, cares for me again and again.
So I wake.
I choose to write.
I allow myself to yearn; to understand; to untangle.
I write, I ponder, I rewrite, I pull the thoughts apart; I untangle.
When I cannot see further,
The maze falls to pieces as a child
sobs into the Light
caught by hands
stretched out still
embraced by Love
sacred Words of
It was not a loss.
It was a birth:
For this child
now at rest in His love.
As I am.
One comfort is to be found in a God whose power is in His magnanimity as well as His wisdom. These two traits mean that His divine energies are spent not in precluding chaos but in reordering it, not in preventing suffering but in alchemizing it, not in disallowing error but in transmuting it into goodness... God's power and promise is in His capacity to transmute our suffering--and our faithful response to painful predicaments--
into something beautiful.
Terryl and Fiona Givens, The Crucible of Doubt, p.78-79