Last night, I tried really hard to post a prayer gift for the Prayer Gift Tuesdays series. I really did. I think I fiddled around on here for a good hour and a half.
But here’s the thing…I’m having trouble praying.
My daddy died two and a half weeks ago, and my sister and I held vigil at his bedside for three days before he left us. The horror of watching him wither away haunts me. The desperate prayers my sister and I prayed in that nursing home room echo in my soul. The lyrics of the hymns we sang over him are now bittersweet.
I can’t bring myself to talk to the Lord about me…or Him…or my daddy…or anything personal.
I talked to my sister this morning. We talked about lots of things for about 10 minutes, and right before we hung up, I asked, “Karla, Are you having trouble praying?”
She paused for a bit before saying, “Well, yes…I guess I am.”
We talked a bit and came to the conclusion that we are not angry with God. We are just not quite ready to hear what He has to say to us.
Watching our dad die with little to no dignity broke something in Karla and me.
Our dad was larger than life!
He died a skeleton with rotten teeth.
Our dad was charming and fun.
He died with blank eyes.
Our dad was always singing.
He died speechless.
It just doesn’t seem right.
And I can’t pray right now.
Tonight, I left my Christian counselor a voicemail.
Hey Wendy,
This is Lee Merrill…hope you remember me. I’d like to make an appointment. It’s not urgent, but my daddy died and I just need to debrief a bit. Could you call me back and let’s see about a time that works for the two of us? I’d appreciate it.
I don’t like not praying. I love prayer! Prayer is my “thang.”
But I feel tongue-tied. Heart-tied. Soul-tied.
I’m hurt over my dad’s last days.
I’m hurt over the pain my sister and I endured.
I’m hurt over the angst I feel toward my dad’s wife who called the shots over his last years and days.
I’m hurt. And it’s going to take time to heal. And that’s ok.
I’m not making some announcement that I’m taking a pre-determined time off from blogging. I’ll blog when I have something to share. That’s all I can commit to right now.
Please pray for my sister and me. We need healing. We need strength to forgive Dad’s wife for what we see as cold-hearted choices. We need to be able to pray again.
I’m so tired right now.
My husband’s snores are a lullaby. My puppy’s snuggles are a heating pad for my aching heart. My “special pillow” from childhood is my little pad of normalcy. Something that was there way back when Dad would give me back scratches to wake me up and is still here now that he’s gone.
Lord, I know You’re there. I need Your help, but I can’t seem to put it into words. Help me forgive. Help me heal. Help me fly again.
Love, Me
