Post-Thanksgiving Thought

We can always find something

to be thankful for, no matter what

may be the burden of our wants,

or the special subject of our petitions."

--Albert Barnes--

Lately, my spirit has been restless in way I've never experienced before. When Mom marked this quote in a Mutts cartoon after Thanksgiving, it seemed to capture exactly how I've been wrestling with God lately.

Many of you have asked me about my spiritual journey over the years--especially those of you who met me long after my college years, or with whom I have recently reconnected. For fear of writing a novel in one blog entry, I'll skip to where I am NOW on my journey.

Since becoming sick, I have not asked, "Why me?" I always figured, "Why not me?" I'm no more special than anyone else. And so many people are suffering more than I am. I trusted God, I watched for the lessons I needed to learn, and I looked for reasons to be grateful for the many ways He is present in my life. 

Many times I have felt very, very distant from God, and I rarely pray anymore. But somehow I would still find God in my life.  

Lately, I've been incredibly angry at God. And feeling very, very far away from him.

I used to be afraid to get angry at God--I used to believe that the more I was a 'good little girl' the more likely I would be to have healing.  I feared being punished by God if I became angry at Him. If I believe in a God who didn't punish me with this illness to begin with, why do I believe in a God who will punish me if I question Him or become angry at Him? I'm beginning to learn that it's okay to be angry with God. And a deep part of Jewish tradition is to question.

Still, I'm wrestling with God big time. I'm angry in ways I've never been before. I'm having pity parties for myself: why me? why me? why me? 

Why doesn't He give me what I think I need? Why am I still sick? Why can't I have the things that I want most in this whole world?  Why can't I have healing? Why can't I be out there working to touch people's lives in a different way? Why, why, why can't I be a mom? Why can't I get married? Why can't I have days that aren't a struggle? 

Along with anger, I've given into sadness, loneliness, blame, envy and jealousy. It's not the Emily I'm used to and I don't really care for her very much!

I thought this quote was perfect because I had a very hard time having a thankful heart over Thanksgiving. I gave it my best, but I still felt a tinge of resentment and anger despite my efforts.

In truth, I have many, many things for which to be grateful. And those things do not pass me by. Sometimes the littlest of things will fill my heart with gratitude and my eyes with tears--like how my mom sets out my lunches for me with such precision and detail so that I am able to get it out myself the day after my shot. How she's figured out the perfect way to leave everything so that I can do it myself, using as little of my energy as possible.

Still, the voice of my wants and petitions is louder these days than the voice of gratitude and acceptance. I'm fighting God tooth and nail. And I want so much to have things that I may never, ever have. 

Maybe I'm too afraid to let go because the thought of letting go means letting go of dreams. I'm not sure. I just know that right now, my spiritual self is lost.  My spiritual self is longing for God and the comfort I used to find in Him and my faith. But I'm unable to find it right now. I'm unable to quiet the voices that want to over ride God.

Many people have told me that, through my illness, I have touched more lives than I ever would have without being sick. I get that. I get that I can view this as my path in being God's instrument. But why must we suffer to touch people's lives? And for how long? Sometimes I tell God, "Okay, I get it! I've learned! I'm ready to move on!" Clearly, He does not think so!

I've talked some to my friends about my struggle and many have helped me to see that they, too, struggle with their faith. I'm always feeling like my friends are 'Super-Christians'--a myth a friend kindly debunked for me (Thank you K! :)). She wavers too, she doubts too, she questions too. I felt alone in my struggles. Am I the only one with these doubts? Is everyone else of faith so much more steadfast than I am? 

Part of my struggle is that I don't have a community of fellow Jews.  And I don't have Jewish friends. So, I'm trying to navigate my faith on my own.  I'm realizing that I can't do this alone, even with God. I need to seek out community or a Rabbi, if my body will give me the strength to do so. I've found great community and fellowship on my journey so far, and continue to--but I know that something is still missing. My Christian friends have been the most instrumental people in my spiritual journey so far.

It's hard to reconcile a God who loves us so much but lets us suffer so much. It's hard to reconcile a God who makes the statement I heard over and over again growing so true: Life isn't fair. It's hard to reconcile a God who takes away what we want so badly. And what we think we need. It's hard to reconcile a God who I see there for me in 'good things' but not in 'bad things'.  

It's hard to pray, when I wonder if it matters at all. Does prayer matter? If so, what is it's purpose? Either God has things all planned out already, or He has His hands tied by two things: nature and free will. The latter would be the perspective of the book, "Why do Bad Things Happen to Good People." What exactly is prayer? I've certainly cried out to God a lot lately with my petitions!

As a Jew, I struggle also because my Christian friends who are sick find comfort in the fact that their suffering here is a small sacrifice for what will follow in Heaven. For me, life is here, it is now, and this is my life. So, why does it have to be this? 

In the end, we'll never know why. And I may never have what I want. Or what I think I need. I'll wrestle it out with God. I'll find my way--and that way is to either walk towards my faith or to walk away from it. I know myself well enough to know that I'll most likely walk more deeply into faith (or so I hope), but for now this--anger, questioning, and plain old negative human emotions--are part of my spiritual journey. 

They're a part of me that I often keep quiet, and rarely articulate. Who wants to share her dark side or air her dirty laundry! :) But one thing I do know for sure is that my blog and the authenticity of it matter. God has reminded me of that over and over again. And even through my spiritual pain, I can hear that.

Blessings,

Emily

P.S. I came in my den to write tonight not knowing what topic I was going to write about. I had so many post ideas swirling through my mind, and this was not one of them! I guess this is what I needed to write about tonight.

Photos:  The burning bush we planted this spring marking my 10 year anniversary of getting sick. This is what it looked like this fall.