Glimmers of God in Murky Waters

Is God only present with us when the outcomes are what we want? Doesn't God still love us as we stumble into a life we'd never choose?

These are some of the questions that emerged in my soul several years ago as I listened to another mom describe her teenage son's devastating cardiac event and subsequent heart procedure. She talked about the waiting and God's faithfulness in sparing her son's life. A part of me sincerely rejoiced with her, but another part had questions.

We'd just met, and she didn't know I held embodied memories of sitting in hospitals through my own daughter's six heart procedures. Nor was she aware that it had only been a few months since my daughter, Anne, had died.

Had God "shown up" for this mom but not for me? Didn't God love me even though my daughter had died?

These questions emerged again in the aftermath of the July 4 flash flood in the Texas Hill Country. Growing up in Texas, I'd camped along the banks of the Guadalupe River - swimming, canoeing, and playing in its steadily flowing waters. I've dropped my children off at one of the many summer camps on the shores of Texas waterways.

As I write, over 120 people have died, including many children, and more than 170 are still unaccounted for as search and rescue efforts continue. In a moment, countless lives were altered as a wall of water transformed summer fun into a tsunami of trauma and grief.

The stories of victims, survivors, and first responders continue to emerge, each bearing witness to the beauty, resilience, and courage of the human spirit. Each life is part of a web of relationships and love, and the tentacles of tragedy will reach far and wide for many years to come. May we honor and hold each of them in our prayers.

Search and rescue will eventually transition into clean-up and rebuilding, and the news cycle will move on to something else. But those living in the aftermath of this tragedy are only just beginning to face their new reality.

As I hold those impacted in prayer and lament before God, embodied memories awaken in me, including the familiar tugs to look away from pain, place blame, or attempt to find some meaning that will tie it all up in a tidy, red bow. Those tugs reflect my desire to lessen the pain, but those movements also lead me away from awareness of God's loving presence.

When my Anne died, I quickly learned that I wasn't going to do grief as much as grief would do me. It would take a long time, coming in swirls of emotion and disorientation at the most inconvenient times. Over time, I realized that sometimes grief isn't something we get through as much as it is something we must integrate into our lives.

Paula D'Arcy famously commented that, "God comes to us disguised as our life."

Yes, God comes to us in our loss and grief as well. But what if we don't want that reality? Anne's death plunged my family and me into a life I desperately wanted to give back, but couldn't. It's taken a long time for me to let go of the life I wanted and receive the life I have. Yet, the life I have is where I find God's loving presence.
It was surreal to exist in that liminal space for so long, resisting God's embrace while simultaneously being held by God's loving presence. Yet, it was the experience of God loving me that had a profound effect on my soul. As God held my chaotic soul, I slowly came to understand that I am truly God's beloved.

It's been almost a decade since Anne died (and a part of me would still like that tidy red bow). But slowly, the questions that emerge in me are shifting. I'm less inclined to wonder if God is present or loves me. Those truths have become anchors for my soul. What emerges now are more questions of discernment. Where is God in all this devastation?

I think that's one reason we need soul companions. Sometimes life circumstances confuse us, and we may lose our awareness of God's presence. As God holds us, we may also need someone who is holding onto God to hold onto us and help us notice glimmers of God in the forest of life that obscures our vision.

I'm grateful for the soul companions who've held onto God and me until I could catch those glimmers of God loving me all along. I needed their help in the murky waters of grief. I needed their help in recognizing God loving me there.