All The Time

Lately, Drama has taken up a habit of arguing over what’s ‘fair’.

When things don’t go her way, when she gets in trouble, when she gets angry at me or her father or her brother’s, her first reaction lately is to cry foul.

“That’s not FAIR!”

And I tend to react the same way every time.

“Life’s not fair, my dear.  That doesn’t change what happened.  Sorry.  Move on.  Deal with it.  Listen to me.  I don’t care what you think is ‘fair’.

Because really, I need to teach her something.

She can’t hit her brother, even if he started it.  Sometimes, she has to pick up the slack when her brothers are somewhere else and she has to clean up.  If she had a few late nights, she needs to go to bed earlier tonight. 

It doesn’t seem fair to her, but that doesn’t need there’s not a purpose to what’s happening.

Well, the irony was not lost on me when this week, God and I had a little throw down.


He does not understand my concept of fair.

And why is that?

Why do I have a beautiful, kind, compassionate friend who can almost field a baseball team of boy children in her home, who lost one child in pregnancy.
A girl.
That’s not fair.

Why did Jesus Freak carry her beautiful baby boy only to see him live in this world for moments before he slipped away?
That’s not fair.

Why are there so many families living without their soldiers when mine is home?  Why did some come home injured when mine is whole?  Why did some soldiers suffer fractured families after being emotionally wounded on their first deployment, and mine pressed his luck with 3 and is still (by the grace of God) okay?
That’s not fair.

Why did I accidentally conceive my children when so many deserving parents can’t purposefully carry a child?
That’s not fair.

This week I sat in my living room on Valentine’s Day munching on chocolate when I got a text.
And just like that, in an instant, I added another question.

Why did my dear friend, who lost both her parents and her sibling in a car accident as a teenager, lose her beautiful 3 year old son in a heartbeat, in a senseless and tragic accident?

Why have I suffered so little personal tragedy in my life when she has to face yet another loss?


That’s.
Not.
Fair.

Grief is an emotion I can’t seem to understand.  I become paralyzed and I don’t know how to help, because I can’t ‘fix’ it. 

And I’m angry.

I’m angry that after 10 years at our Church it would be the year I move away that I would be unable to be there.
There’s nothing I could do, but I could BE THERE.

I’m angry that a friend I love is hurting.

I’m angry that there’s no sense.  No bigger picture. 
There’s just tragedy and heartbreak and devastating loss that comes when a child is called Home.
Because there are no words for that kind of pain.

For a child to make it Home with his Savior before his parents…. that’s not fair.

If I was still at my last posting, I would have been at the church Thursday night. 
I would have been doing everything I could to arrange housecleaning and meals and making phone calls and whatever I could do so that I could feel like I was doing something.

Not so shockingly, all those things happened without me.
Because it’s not about me, even a little.

Friday night, Dh and I celebrated a quiet ‘I can’t believe you’re home for Valentine’s Day’ Friday night.
Because sometimes your heart needs a night that involves a glass of wine and a movie you don’t care the ending to.

I left for my long run Saturday morning.  Not anticipating making it far, partly due to the wine and partly due to the cold…

But I ran until I was too physically tired to argue with God anymore over what’s fair.

I felt like Drama, screaming from the doorway of my room 

“It’s NOT FAIR”.

And God was quiet.

And then I was a little more adult in my anger, yelling ‘What the Hell is wrong with you?’ and if I had actually been in my room I would have been slamming the doors and throwing things off the bookshelf, my heart making the ugly cry when your face crumples and the snot runs down your face.

And God was quiet.

He didn’t yell back like I do, he didn’t tell me to suck it up.  He didn’t lose his temper and stomp up the stairs only to threaten me with further punishment if I didn’t quiet down.

He was quiet while I told Him all the way’s He was wrong.

He was quiet until, finally, all screamed out, my soul was quiet too.

Which is exactly where He wanted it.

Because by then I realized I had forgotten to stop running.

I was clear across town with no time to make it the 15k back to the house.  So I called Dh who patiently agreed to come get me.

And my soul was still quiet when I got the email on my phone while I waited.
It was from a friend of mine who just happens to share my name.
Possibly one of the most compassionate, loving people I know.

She needed someone to hear what she had already worked through but wasn’t prepared to understand.

And I wrote her back, reciting the things I knew I should say.
There is a plan we can’t see.
All we can do is pray.
And finally, this:


I don’t have answers, my friend.
But God IS Good, Kim.
All the time.

 And because my soul was still quiet, I realized what I had written.

God IS Good, Kim.
All the time.

In the quiet, my soul repeated those words all the way home. 
And Sunday night, I received a response;

Those are the exact words (the boys mom) said to our Pastor yesterday.
Despite her pain, she said
God is Good.

If I was in her place, I can only hope I would have courage such as that.
My friend is strong and her family is loved and through this, there will be a story in the pain.
But it’s not my story to share.

All I want to share is this.
It’s only from my heart. 
My heart who is only an observer to the tragedy and yet cries out for some kind of justice, some kind of ‘fairness’ in the hurting.
And I’m left with this.

Life is not fair.


But God IS Good.


And all his people said…..

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