Today I was hit yet again with the frailty of life.
My husband subscribes to AR15, which is an online community of family oriented conservative firearm fanatics, and last year when Heidi passed he shared publicly his story of trying to revive her in the middle of the night and failing to bring her back even as a career paramedic. He stated in the post that he would still trust that God was in the midst of our dark sorrow and that God would remain faithful. Manly’s story was viewed over 10,000 times and he received more than 600 condolences from AR15 users. It was astounding. One man responded with just a picture, and this picture is worth more than 1,000 words:
A year later, this same month when Heidi passed, another AR15 user posted that his fifteen month old son had suddenly died in his sleep days before. He wrote that the child seemed unwell though it wasn’t anything serious; their little boy was found lying face down not breathing in his crib and the parents valiantly yet unsuccessfully performed CPR. It was eerie to me and Manly that at the anniversary of our tragedy another family had experienced the same horrific nightmare. My husband responded with his testimony, out of deep compassion to this broken man and his wife.
In addition to that, while thumbing through Instagram, I noticed a new post by a young woman who’s husband was killed in a car accident last year just weeks after their baby girl was born (I learned of this tragedy in October a month before my own). She had been reminiscing by reposting pictures of her husband cherishing his baby girl just days before he died. Staring at that – an untainted moment, the quiet contentment, unaware of unspeakable pain – my heart was torn apart.
Why? That is the ultimate question of life. Why do such tragedies befall us? Trust me, I ask it all the time. I know Who to ask. The Creator of life itself, the One who is Omniscient and Omnipresent. He has the answers. But He’s not entitled to share them with me. He is God, therefore, He is not accountable to me or anyone else. I leave my “why” with Him, and I trust that one day, in Heaven, He’ll explain it to me. Till then I pray for those who are suffering. Will you join me? You are not exempt from suffering, as I’m sure you know; and you can attest with your own experiences that life is hard and that it doesn’t often make sense.
I pray for you that your Hope is found in your Maker, the Comforter, and that when you ask “Why?” you take it to Him…
In the hands of the potter,
