Things That Are Bigger Than God, Part 3

The Void

"I’m not at peace anymore. I just want him like I used to in the old days. I want to be eating sandwiches with him. I want to be drinking with him in a bar. I’m tired and I don’t want anymore pain. I want Maurice. I want ordinary corrupt human love. Dear God, you know I want to want Your pain, but I don’t want it now. Take it away for a while and give it me another time."

Sarah and I?  We're certainly not coming from the same place.  But the dolor in her words speaks to me.  This post - so far - is the most difficult to write.  The most difficult of topics to put into understandable words.  Some of you will likely be offended by this, others confused, still more may not be able to relate at all (my hope).  I may be unable to finish, but I am going to start regardless.

A little over six years ago, I lost my husband to brain cancer.  After the hustle and bustle of the post-mortem duties had passed, my daughter and I unconciously embarked on a new journey.  Evolving routines.  New traditions.  Over time, a gradual acceptance of the situation, if you could call it that.  Every once in a while, a reminiscence - watching fireworks on Independence Day, a balloon and tethered card released on his birthday or Father's Day, sharing his favorite foods, looking at photographs.  Seems pedestrian enough, I suppose.  Everyone experiences loss and the gradual changes that ensue at some stage of their life.  Over a coupla-three years, missing him became tolerable. 

The part I was not ready for was the void.

The void came knocking on my door a few years ago.  The void is not missing the person himself, it's the realization that all the things that went along with the person who's gone, are gone as well.  I wake up one day and realize that where there was love, affection, intimacy there is nothing.  Where there were shared walks and interests, there is nothing.  Where there was a sense of  being special to someone, there is nothing. Where there was an external life, adult conversation - eating sandwiches and having a drink - there is nothing.  

I don't know why the void showed up when it did.  I was making ok progress in the first three years.  Maybe, by putting the weight of the deficiency on my heart, the void was God's way of telling me it was time to let go and move on.  Maybe it's the sense of my own mortality and realization that I don't have much time left for recapturing the things I miss.  Over time, the void grows larger and the possibility of filling the void shrinks. 

And here's the most devastating part - God is supposed to be enough to fill the void, but He's not.  Or at least I have a hard time letting Him be.  When I walk, He's there, and I want to see Him - but I don't.  When I want to talk about something, He's there, and I want to hear Him - but I don't.  When I need to feel a part of something intimate, He's there, and I need to feel Him - but I don't.  WHY AREN'T YOU ENOUGH, GOD??  I am a guilty, ungrateful, poor excuse for a Christian.

I'm not sure what part of the Stewardship challenge can help me with this, but I'm praying something does.