Tough times.

I posted at the end of December and early January about something that was very difficult for me. While I didn't go into any specific details or particulars about what my family and I were going through, I received support from many friends who love me and my family. I feel grateful to have such friends.

I still cannot manage to post what happened. I can't even write it for my own personal record for that matter. I have been unable to talk about it without shaking or feeling anxious and expect that to never change. I might have a better understanding - that's not the right word - more knowledge that I didn't have before, and that has lessened, somewhat, my fears and uneasiness. And just when I think that I've let it go, just when I think that I've gotten it together and have moved on, something happens to throw me right back, not quite to the beginning but close to it.

I just have a broken heart. It's like there are little pieces of a 3D puzzle missing. Today I got another little piece, a type of piece that enhances one side of the puzzle - that makes it so that I can more clearly see the picture as a whole...or at least see the picture better still with missing pieces. I can see the puzzle's potiential now and make better guesses about what is missing, without knowing for sure.

But, now having this knowledge makes it worse. It was better to just speculate rather than think that this could possibly go deeper than I originally imagined or dared to think about.

And, I'm grateful that we're alright. That our side of this puzzle is very clearly in tact, with no variation of truth to be considered because it was only ever based on fact, and I consider fact in this case, truth. So I should be grateful, right? I should be relieved, and I am relieved...more so than I can even tell you. That part makes me want to sing.

But...the rest of this puzzle is broken and the last side is completely unfinished. This is what makes me heart broken. This is what makes me, not lose hope, but feel hopeless...powerless. It's crazy and I can't stop feeling just awful for them. I hate not being able to tell someone who's so incredibly wounded that they will be alright. I want to tell them that God loves them, but when they outright say that they feel like a failure and you can see they believe that of themselves...it's excruitating. Unbearable.

And what's worse is knowing that they are good, but just like me and my family, they were dealt something impossible and have to live through it.

But the worst part for me today was looking into this person's eyes and seeing that they are pained beyond any words. That they are so grief stricken that they've become hollow and dispondent almost beyond recognition. Even when I felt inspired to tell them that this is not their fault and that I do think they are good and hope that they can see that eventually and that I don't think they've failed me as they feel they have, I can see that it did no good. It kills me, it just kills me.

So, I've prayed more today - not that I don't pray always anyway...I like to think that I've got an open line going all the time with the Lord, because I do. But my prayers for others have been more heartfelt and sincere.

I see how very blessed I am to know God. I know I am blessed. I just wish that I could make others know that He loves them, too. I wish that I could see them how He sees them for just a brief second so that maybe I could know exactly the words to say to bring comfort to them so they'll really hear it and feel it.

It just really stinks.