“Praise the Lord who heals the brokenhearted” (Psalm 147:3) was the Responsorial Psalm at mass this week. Hearing this on repeat in unison with all attending, had me in tears. I probably automatically assumed I was crying of God’s love healing me. It was not until my months of therapy whispered in my ear, “why are you emotional about this” that I decided to dig my brain and heart for a deeper answer.
They want me to praise the Lord for healing me. He knows my situation, and He knew it before it happened. And yet, He didn’t intervene. This is so much to say that He caused my broken heart, and now I have to praise Him for healing me. Honestly, that sounds like an unhealthy relationship. And honestly, I was getting angry as I sat in church hearing praises. I knew I had to turn this around because I could not be OK with that state of mind.
Losing a baby is a heart ache for the rest of my life. I know as the years go on without her, I will think of her entering the school aged years, participating in sports, joining in on our family game and movie nights, attending school dances, graduating, finding herself, and I will always wonder who she could have been on Earth. This is not a heartbreak that I can get over and it will repeat I am sure every day for forever. This Responsorial Psalm is also repeating. God is going to heal me everyday. Wouldn’t it be easier for Him and me to simply let her live?
I realized I was going down a rabbit hole with these unhappy thoughts and questions and I needed to pull myself up. I may have felt panic because I knew He was on my side but I needed to prove it to myself and did not know the answers.
Growing up my mom had a prayer card she would leave in plain sight at home. As an adult I learned it is a popular prayer, rightfully and thankfully so. It begins with “God hath not promised skies always blue, flower strewn pathways all our lives through.” This I can agree with. I know that even if I try to be a good person, bad things are going to happen. That is just the way it is and does not mean God does not love us. Christ is not of this world. Even still, I was not satisfied and wanted more.
The story of Lazarus’ death came to mind. After mass I read this Bible passage to see the words about the resurrection and being reminded that my daughter still has life for she remains with the Lord. As I kept reading, I was reminded that Jesus wept for the death of his friend Lazarus and his friends in mourning. If Jesus wept for Mary and Martha, He has also wept for me, witnessing my broken heart. Jesus, the divine who knows about resurrection and heaven and what will be, takes on my pain. Death is not the end. My daughter lives because of Jesus. For that, I will praise Him.
Perhaps it took me far too long to search and find the most obvious answer. Jesus suffered in His final days and, though all-knowing, He questioned God. Why would Jesus’ suffering and death be needed to fulfill God’s plan? Yet, Jesus trusted in God’s plan. I may not know the answers to all of my questions. This is where faith comes in.
Trusting in God takes an enormous leap of faith. My faith is being challenged but I am confident that this challenge is bringing me closer to God. I will praise the Lord for healing my broken heart.
