dear Jesus

dear Jesus, why?

I ask this question over and over again and yet I don't really want the answer.

I wanted you to do a miracle.

I prayed that sickness would not win.

And yes, I am angry at you, Jesus because I cannot reconcile everything that's going through my head. I want to punch my pillow and scream for you to bring Christy back and I want to be able to tell her boys that this is all a terrible joke and that their precious mother will soon be home.

But I choke on these words as they mingle with tears in the back of my throat.

My head knows that there is a reason for Christy's swift passing and that you are sovereign and that you are holding her family in the crook of your arm.

But in my heart of hearts, I cannot see past the inky, black shroud of darkness and I only feel destitute and broken and so, so incredibly sad.

I know that it's not about me or my earthly desires and shallow wants.

It's about you, Jesus- simply and purely you.

It's about you on that cross and in that darkness with the weight of all the sin of the world on your shoulders. It's about you staring death in the face and winning anyway.

dear Jesus, I don't understand and I have learned that that's ok.

So, thank you for allowing my paths to cross with those of the kind and beautiful @christybowlby.