- May 10, 2016
- 1,728
- 1,833
- Country
- United States
- Faith
- Christian
- Marital Status
- Private
After falling and scraping his knee, as we were bandaging him my son asked me
"mom, why does God let us get hurt?"
My entire world froze at this question.
I looked him in his beautiful eyes, but had nothing to say.
I couldn't tell him how I didn't know.
As his innocent eyes, full of tears and love looked back at me, I couldn't tell him how I have spent countless nights awake, choking back tears, asking the same question.
As I kissed his knee and hugged him, I couldn't tell him about the life draining, soul crushing betrayal I have experienced from the ones I loved most.
How they raised their voice at me.
How they put their hands on me.
I couldn't show him the knives shoved in my back.
I couldn't explain to him how the unpaid bills and the holes in my shoes and the car we depend on breaking down was all just Him testing us.
I couldn't tell him that the pain and suffering and stress and worrying and lonliness and the feeling of utter insignificance I feel every single day was part of a 'great plan'.
I just held him.
Until finally, his sweet voice answered his own question
"maybe God is just as sad as I am when I get hurt."
All I could do was laugh as I hid my face from him.
Maybe my love
Maybe
"mom, why does God let us get hurt?"
My entire world froze at this question.
I looked him in his beautiful eyes, but had nothing to say.
I couldn't tell him how I didn't know.
As his innocent eyes, full of tears and love looked back at me, I couldn't tell him how I have spent countless nights awake, choking back tears, asking the same question.
As I kissed his knee and hugged him, I couldn't tell him about the life draining, soul crushing betrayal I have experienced from the ones I loved most.
How they raised their voice at me.
How they put their hands on me.
I couldn't show him the knives shoved in my back.
I couldn't explain to him how the unpaid bills and the holes in my shoes and the car we depend on breaking down was all just Him testing us.
I couldn't tell him that the pain and suffering and stress and worrying and lonliness and the feeling of utter insignificance I feel every single day was part of a 'great plan'.
I just held him.
Until finally, his sweet voice answered his own question
"maybe God is just as sad as I am when I get hurt."
All I could do was laugh as I hid my face from him.
Maybe my love
Maybe