Sunday, July 21, 2013


Following day after day of baking heat, this particular Monday dawned gray and stormy.  All was quiet in the house, save the rumbling of thunder and pouring rain, as I sat with a comforting, hot, cup of coffee. Knowing what was to come later that morning, my soul was troubled, my heart sad,  and as soon as I had awakened I knew I needed my Father. We needed to talk--a God meeting to air a grievance, to ask for understanding or some semblance of peace.

On this day I needed to ask Him how parents are supposed to bear the burying of their daughter. I felt sadness and anger rise up at the wrongness and injustice of a life cut short. The wrongness of a parent forced to outlive the child. The frustration of prayers for healing answered with an obvious no.  Why is one healed and another taken away? Why do we have to endure the suffering of our loved ones?

Understanding eludes me. Intellectually I can say that suffering is part and parcel of the human experience, the result of living in a sin-filled, fallen world,  that we were created for heaven. My heart? My heart says that this is crap...wrong and unfair. What is worse than watching a mother as she stands by the casket of her daughter, not wanting to leave her alone? Where is the justice, the rightness in this?   Making no pretense of understanding the heartbreak of losing a child, I still couldn't help but imagine myself in those shoes. Such sadness. Such grief.

As I spoke these things aloud, my Father heard. He drew near and I found myself grateful for the big shoulders of my more than able God. He understands my anger. He grieves with us, His children. Our pain is His. I drew into His grace.

I dressed and left for the funeral without all of the answers I sought,  confident that God had loving promises and gentle reminders coming for me on this day. The first came to me in a memory as I drove into town...a memory of another funeral of another life too short. For this particular family, the repeated "Cancer sucks, but God is good" had become mantra of sorts, a way to help them through the anger and grief.  But on this gray Monday, the words that spoke the most to my heart came from my daddy.

Standing before grieving family and friends, my dad spoke the carefully prepared words of the eulogy, lovely and eloquent, at times struggling through tears, concluding with a story of a few moments spent with my mamaw a few years ago as her time on earth drew to a close. At the end of this conversation contemplating the journey known only to those who have passed on, my dad spoke to my mamaw of the promises of the Father and the angels waiting to take her into the arms of Jesus.
"Mama," he said, "you just enjoy the ride."

There it was, this answer I sought.  It doesn't take away the grief. It doesn't take away the heartbreak or make pain disappear. It does bring with it the beginnings of peace and healing to the aching heart. Cancer sucks, but our God is good. His love is perfect,  His promises perfectly kept, and His children swept into His arms on angel's wings.
To the Kudelka family...may you find the beginnings of peace and healing in the promises and the presence of the Father.


  1. Its is so very hard to understand :(

  2. Good one! God's sovereignty is really a hard thing for my small brain to understand, for sure. We watched War Horse last night, and I was reminded (after I looked it up to be sure) that 8.5Million were lost during that conflict. Loss of life and how God wraps it all up for our own good is something that often I can't make any sense of.

    Something to ask God about when we get there, I suppose. For those that have passed that know the Lord, though, I'm going to guess they aren't worrying much about it, they are basking in the Glory of God and worshiping Him directly in His presence. It's very sad for those left behind though that miss them.

    1. So true, Kevin. Jay said last night that he was thinking about what Amos was seeing, hearing, doing right now. We can't even begin to imagine. He is in the presence of the Father.