Questions Without Answers

Yesterday I found myself questioning. Questioning life. Questioning my purpose. Questioning God.



I know. I have no right.

I know. He doesn't answer to anyone - especially me.



I couldn't help it. I spent my evening watching a friend mourn the loss of her oldest son. He was 14.



He was diagnosed with Leukemia about a year ago and had a bone marrow transplant in recent months. The problems came with the medication he was given to try to keep his body from rejecting the transplant. He suffered a severe allergic reaction (called Stevens-Johnson Syndrome) which caused blisters in the mucous membranes and skin deterioration so bad that his casket had to remain closed. Over the last few weeks his mother watched helplessly as her son's body destroyed itself.



At the funeral home we waited in a long line of everything from middle-school boys to grandparents. As we moved closer to the head of the line we could see my friend (Heidi) graciously accepting the condolences of each and every person. Standing there I was both anxiously anticipating my chance to throw my arms around her and increasingly apprehensive about what I would say.

I Squeezed her tightly as we exchanged a few words and shared a lot of tears. I wish I had something insightful to say. I wish I could have carried her load, if only for a moment to allow her to regain her footing. I wish . I wish. I wish.

It's days like this that remind me that sometimes the only place we can look to for comfort is up. The only person that can carry us through it is Jesus. And the only thing we can do is trust.