The battles that you fight within yourself are often times some of the worst. And I was having quite a knock-down, drag-out one within myself.
I was having an incredibly intense struggle trying to make sense of everything that was going on. Fighting both the sadness and heartache that was resulting from feeling that either God wasn't listening to my prayers or that I wasn't being earnest or fervent enough as I prayed as well as the anger from their lack of being answered.
Some days I felt that I was being overcome by despair. Other days I felt like I was getting a handle on my anger. And then it happened.
At church services one Sunday, we were all informed that our congregation's leader had been hit by a car while he was out riding his bicycle one evening during the week and was unable to attend services that day. Thankfully, he was OK. Apparently he was injured quite badly, but the way it was brought to our attention, it seemed like nothing more than a few scrapes, scratches, and bruises and a lot of soreness. And despite the animosity I felt towards him, I was glad he was OK. We would never wish anything bad to come upon him, despite the lack of support we felt.
The following Sunday, he was able to return to church and recounted a little of his accident to the congregation. When he got to the part about how wonderful it was to have such great men that help him at church show up at the hospital to check on him and offer him support and comfort and a blessing, I honestly almost lost it right there in church. The anger that I had been battling for so many weeks and months finally consumed me. I felt like a volcano at the point of eruption.
I again thought of all the time Nathan had spent in the hospital and how none of them had ever come to see him. How we had never had such support and comfort. How we had asked him so many months before, when Nathan was going to have the very dangerous and scary procedure to fix the hole in his heart, to come up to the hospital to help give Nathan a blessing. And how he was too busy. And then when Nathan came, literally, within a few millimeters of dying that day. And he still didn't bother to take the time to come to the hospital.
And I thought of the other times Nathan had come so close to dying. And still nothing. All the time we had spent at the hospital. All the surgeries. All the time traveling between home and the hospital. All the fears. All the worries. All the.....everything. And at the same time all the nothing. No hospital visits. No visits to our home. No calls to stop by his office for a chat. Only an occasional brief handshake and a 20-second "How's Nathan doing?" in passing as he was being mobbed by other members of the congregation as they paid their tithes and offerings.
And yet for some reason, up to this point I was still willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. I still believed, or at least I wanted to believe, that he would at some point do SOMETHING! But now those hopes were gone. Now I expected nothing from him. Now I didn't even want to look at him. Didn't even want to go near him.
And as for my internal battle, Anger had just taken a commanding lead.
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