Saturday, 1 June 2013

In the night...

In the night the questions fly and the tears flow...

Why our baby girl?
Why wasn't the Kawasaki's caught sooner?
Why didn't they treat it anyway, even if it was just a thought in the back of their minds?
Would her little heart have been saved?
Why did she appear to get better, buying the disease more time to run riot through her body?
Why can't it be me, instead of her?
Why did the sonographer call her aneurysms 'impressive'? They aren't impressive to us...
Why isn't God answering our prayers?
What is His purpose in this?

Then I am overwhelmed. This is too much. This cross is too heavy to carry. I've had enough of the ride now... I want to get off... but I can't. This isn't a game or a ride... this is our life now. The constant white noise of anxiety for our baby girl. Always there. Always in the background.

And then I remember that its OK to ask questions... My precious Saviour asked on the cross...

"My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?"

There is relief in that.

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