What do you want from me?
Why are you bringing me through this passage of grief? This critical level of knowledge is too much for me. I was happy not knowing the dreadful details of death. I believe I was compassionate before Shawn was taken from me. I believe I was kind and thoughtful. I believe I loved you.
It was easier to follow you before, when life had not yet been challenged. I am reminded of other lessons, as well, that were easier to learn before death came to visit. It was easier to hope when life was good. It was easier to love when I did not know this type of evil.
Now I am being tested to question everything I have ever been taught. I am being dared to doubt my beliefs. I am struggling to trust what before was a given. I am searching to find that you, God, are still faithful, even when the results of your faithfulness don’t match my human desires.
What do you want from me? How far down can you reach into my soul? Can you reach as far as the hurt? Can you fill each crevice that was destroyed on the day Shawn died? Maybe I shouldn’t ask what you want from me. Maybe I should pray and plead for what I need from you. I need you to be true. Maybe that is exactly what you want.