So I went to church a week ago. St. Andrew’s Episcopal. It is Anglo-Catholic. I cried. My whole adult life I cry when I go to a service that is Catholic or close to it. For my first 13 years this was my life.
This is the post that has been lurking inside me. This is the one that makes me cry when I think about writing it.
You are a little girl, maybe 5 or 6. You lay in bed and are awakened by her cries.
You are a little girl, maybe 7 or 8 and you are comforting your 3 little sisters. The one you share a room with; you climb into her bed. When you feel particularly brave you race across the hall to the little ones.
You lay in bed pulling the covers up over your head, trying to not hear the terror your mom is experiencing, praying to God. You are a good little Catholic girl.
No one listens.
Where is God? Why is he not hearing me? This is all so wrong and he should be hearing me.
I am a little, little girl, no older than nine. But the weight of the world feels like it is on my shoulders. Where is God?
I do not understand the mind of God, but I know He listened. I do not understand why bad things happen to good people.
My heart aches for those little girls and for your mother.
I remember how frightening it was just to feel tension in the family or when my parents would argue.
Dear Christine, His word promises to use ALL things for good to those who love Him and are called according to His purpose.
Love to you.