In the wake of the miscarriage and my father's death, I have felt so weary. It is Christmastime and the whole world is colorful and happy, but I find it overwhelming. I can't muster up the energy to throw myself into the season like I usually do. I love Christmas, and I want to make it happy for Xander and James, so I have put up a tree and decorated, but the usual joy is lacking. Though I am functioning just fine in my daily life, I feel bruised; just a small jostle is all it takes to feel the pain. I will be fine, and laughing, and then a memory will pop up, or a hard realization, or a difficult circumstance, or even a sad TV show or book, and the tears bubble up. I expect this is normal in the grieving process. I feel like I need to draw inward to protect myself - typical introvert behavior - I need more quiet time than usual to heal. And similar to how I behave with people when I am in pain, I haven't been talking much to God, not formally anyway. It's not really on purpose; I am not angry or shutting Him out, I just can't seem to find words. And I have been feeling guilty about this. If I'm a good Christian, shouldn't I be spending more time in prayer?
But today I realized something. Prayer is the way you have a relationship with God, and just like in human relationships, one person doesn't do all the talking. In my marriage, when I am hurting, sometimes James just holds me and lets me cry, and he does the talking. That is what God is doing with me. He has been whispering through His word that He is with me. That He loves me. That He has not abandoned me and He has a plan through the suffering. That one day, sin will be vanquished, justice will come, and we will live with Him with no pain or sorrow. He is holding me and whispering life into my broken heart.
And that is OK for now. I don't need to be able to find words. He knows my heart, and that is enough.
