The last few months have left me feeling so very shaken and squeezed. Despite our best efforts, medical intervention, and significant investment, things haven’t changed: my dear wife is falling apart before my eyes.
Yet God remains silent.
Despite a renewed commitment earlier this year, I feel myself drifting. There is a distance growing between me and my Father.
I’m not sure I care.
I felt this same enmity when, all those years ago, I prayed for my grandmother to live, and she didn’t. Instead, my grandfather, whom she cared for, was moved from sibling to sibling. And finally into a home. (While an uncle sold off all his earthly goods to pay off debt).
Whatever comfort may come from God seems cold, distant, indifferent.
And I’ve found I’m not strong. I’m weak and worn. I want my wife back, I want our life back. Every day a piece of my heart is torn out when I have to leave her in tears to go to work.
I don’t smoke, yet I dream of getting a pipe. The bottle sings its own siren song to me: I am comfort, I am peace, lose yourself in me.
I am tempted. When it seems that no comfort is forthcoming from the Father, it’s altogether too tempting to find it elsewhere. The bottle, smoking, that channel on TV.
Yet all are smoke and mirrors, promising things they cannot deliver. I feel like Frodo, who near the end of his quest, said he was “naked in the dark” with “nothing between me and the wheel of fire.”
And if I feel this way, how must my dear wife feel? Just this morning she said, “I want a vacation from my body.”
I don’t know how to traverse that. How do I deal with it? I try to be strong for her, remind her that God’s strength is perfected in weakness. But it’s entirely too easy to believe for someone else, and have no faith left for ourselves.
I am naked in the dark.
God help me.