Raw

This will be simple. I think.

It's been, what? Two years since my last post? Who knows!

So much has happened during this time. I don't know why I quit blogging when I did, but a nail was put in that coffin when my baby brother died. Yep. The mother of all train stoppers in my life.

The tone of my blogging might be different now. I'm not sure. You be the judge.

I've never been so good at keeping up a blog. But a Facebook page? Now THAT I can do. Ha.

The Lord is good. I guess that's all that really matters.  Simultaneously coexisting with that is my anger. I am angry. (And how did I not mention that I'm a mom now??).

Oh, but the anger. In July it will have been two years since the anger inducing occurrence that forever changed my family and  rattled my core beliefs. My faith. All of it.

I wasn't mad. Not for the whole first year or so. But now? Now I am livid. I can't explain it. And I have friends who tell me to trust The Lord. Well I've done that, people. And let me tell you..trusting Him does not mean painlessness. I know I am to trust Him. I know that's what he requires. But you..you who dole out advice to the grieving..have you grieved? I don't mean over your great Aunt Sally that you saw once every two years. I mean have you lost your mother, father, brother, sister, spouse, or (GOD FORBID) your child?

No. No, you haven't.

And I am not bitter at you for this. I mean for you telling me how to think and feel. You simply cannot know any better. You just can't.

And I must ask, was your loss sudden? Unexpected? Difficult to explain? Mine is.

I have lost so much more than my brother. I have lost my parents. They buried parts of themselves with their son. It is a fact that no parent can deny.

And I feel fear. My maternal grandmother buried her youngest (my mom's youngest sister) who was 21 (right, mom?). I was 7 at the time. I remember scenes of it. The news. The funeral. The crying. Her ashen body in the casket and silken blackish hair. And that scarf around her neck.

Fast forward about 20 years. My mom buries her only son at the age of 22.

Call me irrational, but I cling to my child. I look up at God with anger and fear--and RAGE--and beg him..sometimes TELL him.."DO NOT TAKE MINE!"

But she is His. And I am His.

Why do I fear?

Well..

So perhaps this post isn't so simple. Writing these thoughts to you, dear reader, is a therapy for me. Do not follow me if you are unprepared for raw. For REAL. I won't sugar coat. At least not always. Or not usually. You'll see for yourself.

This is real life. This is not your materialistic fluffy blog.

I will try to honor Christ. Yes, I will try.

Pray for me.

This anger. It permeates all parts of my otherwise beautiful, whole, poetic life. It is a blessed life. An abundant life. But the purging is necessary. Lord, purge my wrath.

Selah.