For such a time as this

Someone said to me yesterday, “It’s better this way.”  Better for whom?  Certainly not me.  Better to be raked over the coals yet again, to be accused, debased, condemned, rejected, vilified – again?  How is that better?  I had resigned myself to an overwhelming degree of loss – far beyond what most could imagine or survive – yet the losses keep coming.  Always at the hands of so-called ‘loved ones.’  I’m speaking cryptically and I apologize.

I think I’m done.  I’ve got nothing left.  I refuse to live my life with hate and anger and vengeance – I refuse to allow those things to take root in my heart.  And yet, I also refuse to be the target for more abuse and accusation.  I’m not going to defend myself – the accusations are baseless and deceitful – and no one would listen anyway.  Their minds have already been made up.  But that doesn’t mean I have to be a part of it anymore.

I remember a conversation my husband and I had about Nathan – our precious son who died nearly three years ago.  We both acknowledged, years before his death, a ‘deep knowing’ that Nathan would die young.  There was no reason for it, no logical source for that awareness, we both just knew.  Likewise, I’ve always had the same ‘deep knowing’ that if I ever lost my husband, I would lose my children too.  I certainly don’t think it’s a self-fulfilling prophecy, but I see that I’m losing them one-by-one as well.  I have poured out my life in loving other women’s children.  I’m the substitute parent anyway, so I suppose the connection isn’t as strong as I hoped it was.  I love them – always will – I especially miss my grandsons whom I’ve not seen in nearly two years.

You’ll have to forgive me, but this isn’t better.  It’s more hurt, more loss, more brokenness, more tears.  It feels as if someone has ripped my heart out of my chest – already bruised and bloody from previous beatings – but now they are grinding broken glass into it before shoving it violently back into my chest. 

My faith.  My life.  My home.  My business.  That is all.  But it’s something.  It’s the foundation of a new life.  Lord, come quickly.  I’m ready to go Home.