It is a fairly heavy question isn't it? Why me? Why us? Why him? Why this? These aren't questions I like to think about. For one thing, the answer doesn't change anything. It won't bring back J. It won't heal the hole inside me or bring any more sleep to me at night. Yet I find that question creeping up in my mind often. Why me?
I once had someone tell me that God allowed this to happen because he
knew we were strong enough and that I should view that as a compliment.
I think it was supposed to comfort me, but it really just made me want
to punch him in the face.
Why me? Usually I try to run the other way
when I see that little question popping up in my mind. It sure is tiny,
but it carries some hefty weight. I don't want my life to be a pity
party. I don't want to wallow in the dank basement of hell on earth
thinking about all of the awful, negative things that happen. And
thinking about "why me?" can really make that happen. So normally I
give myself a quick answer, mumbling something about how life isn't fair
and how God never promised He'd make it easy, but He did promise to
always be here for me and isn't that enough? And then I run like hell
the other way, away from the dark side. And yet it keeps coming back.
Why me? Why me? Why me? Why did I have to be a strong person? Why
did Jameson have to suffer on this earth? Why did you have to do this
to Hubs? To Little Man? Why did you tear our family apart so we can see
the brokenness and pain and not our Jameson anymore? Why?
I've never let it sink in quite like this before. It stings. It hurts.
It makes me want to vomit. And it doesn't bring me any closer to
answers; instead the hole just feels bigger and J feels even farther
away. I don't want to purposefully walk away from love, to forget about
sunshine and happiness, to make the choice to be sad.
I have prayerfully thought about this and asked God to help me with
this; instead of banishing that little question from my mind, I feel
like I have been hearing it more frequently. But not quite the same
way. And I much prefer this way. "Why me?" isn't inherently a bad
thing to ask. Not when I start thinking about it with the blessings in
my life. Why me? Why me? Why me? Why did you chose to love me? Why
am I so lucky to have a house? And food? And clothes? And the best
husband in the world? And two amazing boys? Why me? Who am I to
deserve the wonderful friends and family in my life?
Why me? Suddenly
that little question doesn't seem quite so dangerous. I like to look
around in wonder, to see the stars at night, to hear loons calling on a
glassy lake, to feel overwhelmed with love and let it sink in; the
immense awe and pleasure that comes with seeing and feeling God's
blessings in my life is matchless. Why me? Sure, it will still be
there in the dark and sad times; but that same question that has the
power to pull me down also has the power to lift me back up.