A co-worker with ovarian cancer, an outlook that is grim. They don’t call ovarian the silent killer for naught.

A family friend who I have loved dearly since childhood, who told me and my brothers stories and babysat us, took us to the movies and always made us laugh. Cancer and a myriad of other problems. He doesn’t want us to see him this way and I wonder when I’ll see him again.

And there are others that are hurting with ‘ordinary’ every day problems. Depression. Chronic pain. Fear. Stress. Anger. Hopes deferred. Love lost. Heartache.

And I find myself angry again, because it feels like some things never get answers and pain goes to people who (in my human mind) don’t deserve it. And at the same time I wonder why God would love me – flawed, imperfect me who still finds it hard to believe that she doesn’t have to earn love, that she doesn’t have to work and be better, just to be heard, just to be known, just to be loved by the One who defines love. I was raised with reminders that faith without works is dead, but sometimes I forget works without faith is every bit as futile.

And I’m frustrated with questions, questions that have answers that don’t satisfy. Just trust. Just wait. Just hope. Just love.

Just, just, just, just…yet, so, so much.

Friends listen to me and take on all that I throw at them, patiently work it out with me. And even though I still don’t like His answers, I’m learning (again) that there are reasons behind the answers, even if I don’t know them, and His ways are better, even if I don’t always want to believe it.

For:

There is more, more than all this pain,
More than all the falling down and getting up again
There is more, more than we can see
From our tiny vantage point in this vast eternity
There is more.

There has to be more. And:

All shall be well and all shall be well and all shall be all manner of things well.

And that’s all I can say today: that’s what I have to believe today. I have to believe that He can see farther than I can and that in the end, all shall be well and all shall be all manner of things well because He wills it. And my heart still aches, but it’s a quieter ache – it’s in His hands and I trust those hands to take care of every question, every prayer, every hurt.

Lyrics by Andrew Peterson

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