O Come Let Us Adore Him

I actually wrote this a couple weeks ago, but was reluctant to post it. On one hand, I worry about what people will think when I lay my thoughts and feelings out there...I don't want people I care about to feel uncomfortable and pull away from me...I've already experienced that, and it sucks. On the other hand, I don't care one bit what people think...most aren't walking this road, so have no idea how they'd walk it themselves...and no one is forced to read it.

Many, many years ago, I was at a home fellowship and a mother had received that dreaded diagnosis that her son had brain cancer. I can vividly recall her sobs, her moans, her whys. It overwhelmed me...I felt like I was invading her privacy and witnessing such an intimate moment. So I get it, grief makes people uncomfortable, raw emotion makes people twinge...we don't want to witness it because we can't do anything about it.

Anyway, today I decided to post it.

O Come Let Us Adore Him

When Kristine was first diagnosed with stage IV metastatic melanoma on 8/2/16, Dawn and I, with Dylan in tow, were on a plane to Alabama the very next day. The visit was quite the opposite of what I expected...it was very vacation-like. We had fun, went on a dolphin cruise, went shopping, and ate. I thought we'd be packing them up and moving them home to California. Everything I'd read gave a very negative prognosis of 2-4 months. Yet, Kristine and Stephen were positive and hopeful, and it rubbed off on me.

Our last night there, I had not had a chance to talk to Kristine alone, so I asked if she'd go to Walmart with me. We sat in the car in the parking lot and had a heart-to-heart. That was one of the most significant conversations I've ever had in my life. One thing she said really resonated with me. She told me she believed she would beat the cancer because the Lord had confirmed to her that she would have children. At that very moment, I thought, 'You do have children...in heaven.' The thought scared me, so I didn't say anything about it to her. She had miscarried twins in the summer of 2014. Was the Lord preparing me to lose her with the comfort that she would be with her babies?

Fast forward to today. Mike and I were entering church and ran into the daughter of one of my dear friends. She was a bridesmaid in Kristine's wedding and now is married and has children. She had a perfect messy bun and a baby on her hip. She was leaving church and had that breathless sounding voice of a young mom. I chatted briefly with her and then we entered the church as her sweet little family left.

We found seats and I was overcome with emotion. Kristine wanted children more than anything...she would've loved to be rushing around with a baby in her arms...she prayed fervently and ached for what most of us would call normal. She just wanted a normal life. She didn't want to be rich, powerful, or famous. She just wanted a life where the biggest stressors were bills, kids, and busyness. Instead, she was in a battle for her very life.

The worship team came to the stage and began singing O Come Let Us Adore Him. I was sobbing and thankful the music was loud and that we had chosen seats in the back row. I noticed people looking at me, so I tried to get it together, but to no avail.

Now, I'm going to make a statement that might shock some people. Some may even say it's blasphemous. I do not adore Him right now. Oh, I am going through the motions. I go to church sometimes, I go to bible study, I sing the songs, I pray, but I'm not feeling adoration. Or joy...

Yes, I know where she is.
I know she's whole.
I know she's free from pain.
I know she's free from suffering.
I know she's reunited with her babies.
I know she understands why this happened.

But I don't.

And while all that I know does bring me some comfort...it's not enough. Not now, not yet, maybe not ever.