The Opposite Side of the Story

This is a two-hanky alert. DON'T move forward without getting a tissue.

This is a post that my fingers wrote but I didn't. If you have any doubt that God exists today, this is written proof....

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"God blessed me and I overcame the cancer."
"God sustained me when there was no way out of that mine."
"I wasn't able to have children, but God blessed me and I became pregnant."

I have no doubt that the countless people who utter statements like these, on a daily basis, believe, deep-down to the core of their soul, that God blessed them.

And, I believe He did. Because God DOES answer prayer.

But, in a world where loved ones die of cancer, only one of the Kentucky miners made it out alive, and many are still waiting for that pregnancy miracle, this sometimes feels like a slap in the face.

"Why", I ask, "did God bless that person with health and let my Mom die?"

This line of questioning just boggles my mind. Just when I think I have reasoned my way to understanding why, my reasoning slips away. And I'm back with my faulty thinking and anger and resentment that, "God didn't answer my prayers."

Truth be told, God didn't answer my prayers the way I wanted them answered. But, nonetheless, He answered prayers.

We asked for healing and relief from pain. We asked that the chemotherapy work. In times of desperation, we asked more often for a miracle, because we realized Mom was slipping away from us. And we were selfish and didn't want to see her go, even if it meant she would be on Earth longer and endure more pain.

When I have a good, clear mind and am able to take the emotional side out of the equation, I realize God answered my prayers, and the prayers of countless others, for Mom.

He did heal her. Supernaturally. By taking her to Heaven. Tonight she is singing with angels.

Her pain is gone. And so are her tears. For as long as long may be.

The chemo? It did work. Temporarily. It bought us time. In a period of 90 days, a week is an eternity. So that, too, is an answered prayer.

We prayed for that miracle. But what we didn't realize was that miracle would occur in each of our lives, not in hers. It was the miracle of comfort of family and friends and complete strangers who cooked meals and sent cards and emails and called just to cry with us and love us through this mess. And are still doing the same today.

God knew we were human and, had we had our thinking caps on, we NEVER would have asked for more time at the expense of Mom's suffering. He knew our selfishness was borne out of great pain. And He knows that pain, himself, for he sent his only son to die for me. And you.

So the miracle is that He caused a great multitude of saints to do his business here on Earth. He caused friendships that we deemed long since gone to regenerate. He created bonds between family members that didn't exist and will last for years. He created empathy in us for people who lost Mothers and Fathers and Grandparents and spouses. WE are the miracle. In human flesh.

And we are still here, grieving, because He loved us first. And He loves us still. And He longs for us to be connected to Him. Especially during times of hurt and pain.

So, the next time I hear someone credit God for their healing, I'm going to praise Him instead of question Him.

And with the person who has been healed? I'm going to say a hearty prayer of thanks that I've been able to witness a miracle on Earth.

Even if it isn't the miracle I originally hoped I'd be witnessing.