I'm stuck because I always believed things happen for a reason. If I could just let that go once and for all, I know I would be much happier. But un-learning a lifetime belief system is hard...and painful. I'm going to have to either mold the facts to fit that belief system, or acknowledge that it was crap and I just didn't recognize it. I'm leaning toward acknowledging the crap (a friend calls it bullshit...and I think that's appropriate too).
Yep...I admit it. I rested on my spiritual laurels for far too long and now the spirit(s) has bashed me over the head and said, "Get a clue." On my more stable days, I can easily let go of the "plan" and God's "reasons" to just recognize that a great number of things happen for no reason at all. There is no plan. You're just lucky or unlucky. And, as my blog friend Aurelia pointed out this week...MANY human troubles can be traced back to the poor decisions of mankind...even those things that seem so out of our control.
The struggle really gets going in my brain on my unsure days. Because my lifetime belief system is so woven into the fabric of my being that it compels me to ask, "Really? Is that what you REALLY believe? (Self-doubt is a beautiful thing.) Can you really be sure? What if you chuck the idea of a grand plan and you're wrong?"
Yes, I believe in hedging my bets. I don't want to end up in hell if there is such a place. I don't want to be separated from my boys forever...with no hope of seeing them again. I just want to do what is right. But what is right? Who do you listen to? How do you EVER find a sense of peace? Am I just going insane?
I think I got the analogy wrong. God doesn't slam the door in my face upon inviting me to dinner. After further reflection, I see that a more accurate analogy to the invitation idea is that God invites me to dinner...I go in, sit down, eat an amazing dinner beyond my wildest dreams. At the second and third invitations, however, I am served a huge giant steaming pile of crap. Maybe God didn't actually prepare the food...maybe He did. Maybe it was the fault of the caterer...maybe God directed the caterer. Maybe God was just as surprised as me...maybe not. The answer to those questions matters when I consider the ultimate question...should I accept a fourth invitation?
And there is one comment I would like to respond to...
To me, it's been amazing to see how life seems to throw situations at me that challenge me in my weakest, sorest spots. Like the situations are crafted specifically for me, and if I don't take them as an opportunity to grow, then I don't get any further along life's path.
I can not...and will not...believe in a God that would kill an innocent child (or ALLOW an innocent child to die) in order to teach ME a lesson. I have grown as a person, yes. You may garner some comfort from your belief, but I personally recoil in horror at the thought that this situation...the one where TWO innocent children died...was crafted specifically for me.
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6 comments:
I'm with you on the last paragraph! NO way, whatever your religion, it doesnt make any sense.
I think the Jews at Auschwitz would have a hard time believing that "everything happens for a reason, God's reason", but still, many of them believed it.
We're all safe in our belief that everything happens for a reason until something really really shitty happens to us.
I, personally, believe that God allowed us choices, and those choices we made led to the shit flying into the great big fan on this earth. How could he be a loving God and only allow us to be robots? Doesn't make sense.
It doesn't make the fact that life serves us crap on a pancake any easier - but it does make me very conscious of my own choices in regards to continuing to love and serve Him regardless, in spite of my depression and almost inability to get out of bed some days.
It's a choice we all have to make at some point - love Him and depend on Him, or reject Him. And it IS a very personal choice.
Thank you for sharing your innermost thoughts for the world to see. That's brave.
I struggle with this same question all the time. Your last paragraph really hits home for me.
i'm with you.
funny, i started reading that comment, and thought "yeh...i just don't get how life seems to keep hitting me in my sore spots..." but then i got to her conclusion.
i have to respectfully disagree. while i may have baggage i need to work on, and a chip on my shoulder that i really am trying to diminish, i cannot believe that some higher power allowed my child to die so i could do my homework.
one, i don't think i'm that special. certainly not more special than my son, who must have deserved - in that f-d up version of meritocracy - a chance to have his own issues. :)
two, i know too many other people with baggage and sore spots and they get the perfect babies they want and think they're entitled to them. (did i mention a chip?)
anyhoo. belief is personal...and i wish people would stop trying to impose theirs on those who grieve, even in - or especially in - the name of comfort.
I've been away so my comment is late....
Anyway, i agree with your last paragraph, i don't think that babies die to teach their mommies any lessons. If we grow as a result of the tragedies we face, then that is something good for us individually, sure, but that does not make the tragedy any less tragic, or any less bad. Yes, i believe i have grown as a result of Nicolas' death but i don't think i was that bad to begin with that i needed a baby to die to teach me a lesson. By the way, i don't think that the original commenter was saying that it was that way, either.
You know i do believe that God has the power to save babies and doesn't -- i don't know why he doesn't, but i don't think it is to reward or punish, not in this life anyway. Because, yeah, to me that doesn't make any sense.
Catherine, your post is very cathartic for me. A while back I went in for my first mammogram (nothing says "advanced maternal age" like a mammogram!) and I told the technician about losing my son after she noticed that my breasts were still leaking (it has been nine months, fun, fun!). She mentioned that she herself had had preeclampsia and a host of other problems in all of her three pregnancies, and we proceeded to swap war stories. Everything was fine and even helpful until the end, when I told her that I had been to the doctor that very morning and had an ultrasound, had my blood pressure checked, everything, before collapsing with an eclamptic seizure at 6 pm that night. Her reaction? "Wow, I guess that shows these things are meant to be."
Did I mention all three of her children are still living?
People say the dumbest things in their fumbling attempts to comfort you.
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