I didn’t want to do today…

Exactly a year ago today (almost to the hour, actually), I was sat in an A and E in Paddington, pretty certain of what would, in fact, be told to me just a couple of hours later…that I’d miscarried.

It’s been a year. And, to be honest, not a great one. A year of loss after loss after loss, where dear friends committed suicide or succumbed to horrific illnesses, and where, a mere 8 months after the miscarriage a year ago, we sat in a different hospital being told exactly the same thing.

And I wanted to post some kind of post about how great God is, and how much He’s helped and comforted and blah blah blah. And it’s true to an extent, but it’s far from being the complete story. I can’t post that story. In some ways, I don’t want to post because the honest answer is that I’m just so sodding tired of it all.

I was at St Francis today, a church I absolutely love. It’s a mad place full of crazily dedicated people who love Jesus and love their community and live out both passions with every single fibre of their beings. Today I made half the sermon, but it was a knock out. All about pain and how we hide it, but when we do we become diminished. And when we face it…that’s when God works.

The truth is, I don’t want face it. I’m tired of it all, and what I’d like to do is drink a little too much and eat my weight in chocolate. The problem with doing that though is that it doesn’t solve the problem.

So tonight I choose to own it. Tonight, life fucking sucks. Tonight, I don’t want to feel, I don’t want to fight, and I definitely don’t want to pray. Shout, scream, throw stuff possibly, but not pray. I feel like I want to tell God to poss right off, to ask Him what on earth He thought he was doing when lost those babies, when my friend took her life, when that tower fell on another friend, when yet another friend and her tiny baby were caught in a bombing raid.

And just for tonight, that’s ok. Tonight, it’s ok to be angry. Because I don’t have to be God’s parent, all calm and confident whilst my child screams and wails. I can be that child, snotty, incoherent and raging. It’s ok to scream and cry and just be me. Because the one who made me is big enough to take it.

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