Today was my first time back in church since Logan’s passing. To say it was overwhelming is a complete understatement. I was definitely not prepared to handle that situation.
As I sat there and listened to the praise and worship team lead, I was moved as I usually am by the Holy Spirit. Music has a way of doing that to you, something inside you crumples and allows things to surface.
I looked around at the people there and all I could see where these children in their parents arms. And all I could think was, that was supposed to be me. That is my job. Logan should be here with me. I should be able rocking him and showing him how to praise God. But I’ll never get to do that.
The couple that invited us has recently lost a baby as well. The wife prayed with as I sat there pretty much paralyzed in my seat. Her words to God asking him to remind us that our boys were safe in His arms and running and playing punched me in the gut. As happy as I can be that my baby is safe in the arms of Jesus, it does not take away the pain I have here on earth. I want my baby. In my arms. On my hips. Running around my house. Throwing tantrums because he can’t go eat worms. I want Logan, I don’t want Jesus to have him.
It’s not fair. It will never be fair. As much as I am touched that people around the world are being touched and moved by my blogs, I wish I didn’t have to write them. My pain is too real. I ache for my baby. I saw him today in every child in that sanctuary. I saw him at each age those children were, not just as the baby he left me. I didn’t just lose my baby, I lost his life. I lost watching him grow to every developmental stage. I lost every moment of his life. I won’t get to enjoy all the things you dislike about your children. All the things you say make you crazy. I want to be crazy over my child.
God has a way of putting things in front of your face even when you don’t want to deal with them. The Pastor today only talked briefly about how God moves and if you felt like you needed salvation to come to the alter. I can say with conviction that if I died today I would go see my Logan. I know I’m saved, I know I believe in Jesus. But I’m angry. I’m complacent. I’m a rebellious teenager angry with their parent because they didn’t get their way. I don’t want to let Jesus in. I don’t want to open myself to Jesus. I don’t want to admit there is a reason. I simply want to be angry at my parent for not getting my way. I want to be angry because it’s not fair I don’t get to keep Logan. I did everything I was supposed to, to provide for my child. While people in my life have healthy children and don’t want anything to do with theirs. I have family who has a daughter and instead of pouring into her every chance he gets, he focuses on himself. I hate him. All I can think about is how much I want Logan here with me. And he can’t see how much he is blessed to have a healthy child to love. I feel it’s so disrespectful and unappreciative for what he’s been blessed with.
I listened to the people in this church talk about the unfortunate things in their life and I can’t connect with them. My mind says that I’m sorry for their struggles, but my heart doesn’t. How could their struggles compare to mine? How can I care about anyone else when all I can think about is Logan. I don’t have it in me to carry the weight of other people’s burdens. I refuse to feel guilty because all I can focus on right now is my own grief and struggles.
We don’t normally stand during worship at church. We’re more of observant people, we’re low key. It’s easier for me to focus in church when I can be comfortable and listen to God. There are too many expectations in church nowadays. I don’t have to go to the alter, raise my hands or jump around and shout to be close to God. That’s not the relationship we have. We don’t have to be so full God, hugging and all the high energy things that go on in church. Some people spend their entire lives struggling with God. Wrestling with him. Very similar to that of a parent/child relationship. And that person is no less worthy of God than the person who attends church 3 days a week or the first person to lay hands on someone at the alter. We’re all called to glorify God in ways the best suit our abilities.
I am that person. I’ve spent my whole life arguing with God. Yet he continues to bless my life. He took my baby and I’m trying to find my blessing. But I’m no less important to him. I shouldn’t be expected to stand and jump. I should be expected to praise Jesus and carry on how I need to in order to fulfill our relationship. God doesn’t have the same standards for each of us. He has a different job and goal for us individually. So when you see me sitting in the pew crying and not going to the front, don’t assume I don’t care to or I’m afraid. God just doesn’t expect me to do that. That’s not how our relationship works.
Everything in me today was screaming to run out of that church. To get fresh air. I like the room was too tight. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t move. I felt like I was suffocating. I felt like I had a target on my back, a big flashing sign notifying everyone of my recent loss. I’m sure nobody knew, how could they? But that didn’t change the way I felt. My heart was racing, my skin tingled and I felt uneasy and sick to my stomach. And to make matters worse, there was this little boy who kept staring at me. Every time I would look his direction he was looking intensely at me. It made me feel like he was looking through me. It made me think of Logan. It made me feel like this child knew my pain. Like he knew Logan. Like maybe Logan was speaking to me through this child. It doesn’t make any plausible sense as I have never met this little boy. But it’s what my mind and my heart were saying.
I finally told Josh I had to leave. I had to get out of there. I couldn’t take anymore, it was too much. Someone told me that this would come in phases. That each journey would be a new phase to go through. It would be a new chapter to journey through. And it definitely is. Going back to work Chapter 1. Going back to church Chapter 2. It’s all a process right?
Now that I’m at the end of this rabbit hole, and starting to climb out, things don’t seem as intense. This rabbit hole is morphing; like furniture being rearranged during spring clean season.