{ fix this. }
Three scenes, three different girls, all in the same 24 hours, starting from the close of the day.
Because some stories end at their beginning.
– — –
Laying in bed, almost asleep when the call comes in at nine minutes ’til midnight. I leave immediately, still in my pink and black pajamas. She’s waiting outside the door when I get there, but she isn’t crying like I expected. We walk inside without saying anything; she gets into her bed and motions for me to do the same. She talks for three hours and I’m secretly glad because I have nothing to say. They didn’t teach me about this topic in my crisis counseling classes so I just do the only thing I know: I wait until she’s ready to sleep and then make myself a bed on her couch where I lay wondering how a girl as sweet as this can suffer such profound loss. When the sun has been up for awhile, I go upstairs to her bedroom and find her laying there, staring at the ceiling. I quietly walk to the side of her bed, bend down and say –
“Did you sleep well?”
She shakes her head, looking me in the eyes. And then –
“I don’t know how to fix this.”
– — –
Eleven hours earlier, I’m sitting at a table for two: myself and one of our volunteers who recently lost her mama. She told me about the day they got the diagnosis, about the year full of driving to the hospital for treatments, about her mama promising not to go before the semester was over — she didn’t want her daughter to be distracted during finals. When the last exam was turned in, she headed straight for home where she found herself standing in the kitchen while her daddy told his bride that their daughter was home from college. She opened her eyes, smiled at her husband and then she was gone.
“Really, it was the best timing,” she said, tears running down her cheeks as she sat three feet in front of me, “since my 21st birthday was the next day.”
I start crying not for her, but with her because I too am wondering who will button her wedding gown while telling her she’s the most beautiful bride that’s ever lived, who will teach her how to bathe her little baby one day down the road.
And she tells me about how she called him the other day only to beg –
“Daddy, you have to fix this!”
– — –
It’s five hours earlier and I’m getting dressed for the day, not yet knowing that I’ll spend much of it crying. I reach for my earrings, glancing in the mirror as I start to put them on. That’s where I’m standing when I suddenly think of how it could be, how it would be if things were the way it should be between me and them. I dismiss the feelings quickly, reminding myself that this is how it’s been for years and no amount of wishing it was different has ever done any good. I reach for the square glass of perfume and it hits me again, the indescribable pain of missing them. And I’m furious with myself for even caring but I can’t make it stop and suddenly I’m back in bed, tears all over my pillow as I say the only thing I can think of –
“Please… will You fix this?”
– — –
And sometimes He will. Sometimes He’ll fix this.
But sometimes He chooses to fix us instead.
That last statement is right where I am. Instead of fixing the situation, as I want Him to of course because to me that is the easiest way, He is fixing me. And to be honest it is painful. And messy. But I believe something glorious will come out of it. Because He is doing the fixing.
AB, your blog is one of the few I keep coming back to over and over because your writing speaks to my heart and my soul. Never doubt that God is using you, not only in the lives of those around you but in the lives of your readers too.
Much love.
This made me cry. Really cry. Cause I miss my parents and they aren’t far away physically. But emotionally, they live on another planet. I don’t know how to bridge the gap, but somehow, I’m still that little girl begging for them to look at me, love me, be proud of me. Thanks for reminding me that only God can fix this by fixing me.
I love that post.
I met you at the Siesta last summer and loved your testimony.
Hope you will stop by my blog for a visit.
I am new to blogging and I am loving all my new friends.
I am giving away my first EVER BLOG PRIZE.
I have a gift basket business and it is the most requested gift over the last 15 years.
From the comments I have already received, it appears to be something a little different.
I have been so touched by the comments that I have decided to give 2 boxes . They will be the $100 deluxe size. I really do want to bless people!!!
I have decided that giving is life at its BEST. The drawing will be late afternoon on Saturday…wow that’s tomorrow!
Praising God that He is preparing a home for us…and that He’s preparing us for that home.
For the past couple of months God has been putting difficult situations after difficult situations in my life. Tonight was particularly difficult, and I prayed all the way home from school that God would fix this problem. And then when I got home this post is the first thing I read. What an encouragement! This was a good reminder to me to not focus on my problems, but instead trust Christ and let Him work in me!
This is just so beautiful. I wish I had your way with words. You speak right to the heart and God is using you and your abilities, talents, and even your weaknesses, in powerful ways!
i’ve said it before…. you need to write a book. for. real.
this was very profound.
oh my goodness. wow.
XOXO
Speechless.
I literally just spoke the words, “How am I going to fix this?”
I am one day away from telling my parents and siblings my husband and I aren’t coming home like we’ve been planning and well, I know they are going to be devastated.
I’ve been stressed to the max this last week and just keep thinking about all of the “fixing” that needs to be done.
You’ve blessed me more than you know with this. Pointed my eyes up to my Father and have made me remember He is the one who will do this…and ultimately, He’ll fix me…
Amy Beth,
Your words have touched me… as they always seem to.
Ironically enough… I just recently wrote a blog post sort of about this. Except… I’m to the awful point where I’m asking him, “Am I even fixable?”
poignant. gut-wrenching. so, so true. we are so not Home.
Girl – you should probably have a “must have tissues” warning before some of these posts. I’m still wiping away tears.
SO, so good.
This post reminds me of that Scott Krippayne song…sometimes He calms the storm, other times He calms His child.
Thanks for putting yourself out there and allowing the Lord to use you to minister to others…both in the real world and the blog world!