A cheerful heart is like good medicine. A crushed spirit is like dry bones. (Proverbs 17:22)
Pastor Brian brought a mouse skeleton to church for children's story today and talked about this verse. (For you city readers, may I clarify that we go to a very rural church and there's not a kid in the congregation who has not seen a dead mouse, deer, chicken, cow etc... and every single kid was completely fascinated by these mouse bones)
A cheerful heart. Nope, don't have one of those.
Is like good medicine. Guess I'm pretty sick, and tired, and sad, and angry.
A crushed spirit. This is an excellent analogy for exactly how I feel. Run over by a tractor. Crushed. Empty. Weak. Sad. Crushed.
Is like dry bones. Like death. There is not much useful in me it seems. I am like dry bones. Why am I even here sometimes I wonder? I am like dry bones. No nourishment or succour to anyone. Dry bones. Dry Dry Dry bones.
I don't feel like it is my choice to have a crushed spirit. I feel like it has been crushed for me. I feel like the mighty hand of God reached down and scooped me up then closed his fist and crushed me. Crushed my flesh, my bones, my organs. Crushed. Yes this is exactly right.
And now I know. A crushed spirit is like dry bones. Why am I crushed? Why am I crushed when I know of others who have gone through far worse and lost so much more but who still manage to stand firmly on the Rock, while all I can do is struggle to hang on as I slog through yet another day without my daughter.
As unencouraging as it is, this verse fits so well for me. Can I actually choose to have a cheerful heart. I know some of you dear readers, and some of you will say, yes, absolutely. Choose it now, Em. Claim it. But the reality is that even when I try to choose to be joyful the sadness and the tears come sneaking back in. How did Job praise God when all his children died? I do not know. His faith is stronger than mine.
My faith seems like a weak shell of what it once was but, if I am honest ,it also feels alot more like a rock. Albeit a rock that has been crushed and powdered. Some days the only thing that keeps me believing in God is the hope of seeing Eva again. Just slogging through this life to get to the end of it so I can hold my darling again.
Someone asked me today if I'm enjoying the sunshine. The answer is yes. Yes ,the sun feels good on my living skin. The answer is also no. No, no, no. How can it be spring with the promise of new life when my darling, sweet baby is ashes. Ashes, ashes, ashes. How can I enjoy anything ever again? The sweetness of life is like dry bones in my mouth. Like ashes. Like death.
Someone else today asked me if there is something wrong with my eyes because I'm always wearing sunglasses in church. The answer to that is again: yes, and no. No, my eyes are healthy. Yes, there is something wrong, they are always red and leaking when I'm in church and, to be honest, as wonderful as my church family is, do I really want to be the one sitting there crying in church every.single.Sunday. I'm also tired of looking at my red eyes. They do nothing for me. My cheeks are chapped from the tears running down them all the time. I have aged 10 years since Eva died. I'm just plain tired, lonely, sad, empty, crushed, like dry bones. There simply feels like there is nothing left.
We are coming up on 9 months. 9 months of hell. With no end in sight. Sometimes I long for death to take me. Take me to Eva. But no, I don't think I'll be granted that reprieve. That fast-forward to the end. Also, I know it wouldn't be fair to all of my boys. They need a wife and mama. And, as long as I am here on earth I need them. Oh, I need them. I need their laughter, their joy, their hugs, their cuddles, their earthiness, their little bodies filled with potential and with mischief. Oh, I need them.
I usually try to wrap up my post somehow, and bring it together, but today this is all there is. A crushed spirit like dry bones.