Sep 16, 2014

Letter #1 to my sibling...

Dear aborted sibling,

I’ve decided to begin writing letters to you. I believe that if you were given a chance to live, I would have you to lean on for love and comfort. I believe I would have had you to tell my desires, my hurts, and my frustrations when I could tell no one else. So I’ll tell you anyway even though you are no longer on this earth. First, I’ll give you a brief summary of where I am at in life right now.

I am a 25-year-old college student with the emotional stability of a young teenage girl who has just entered adolescence and puberty. It doesn’t make me happy to admit it, but it’s the truth. I’m like a broken wooden toy that tries to fix itself but becomes more broken in the process, eventually leading to severe damage that only an experienced Carpenter can fix. I have found that Carpenter, but because of my brokenness, I am unable to feel genuine love from Him or anyone else. I was never taught how to feel love or recognize it in its truest form. I am scared to let Him fix me because I know that pieces of myself will have to come apart for me to be put back together correctly. I am afraid of the pain that will come with taking me apart. I wish I could stop being so afraid.

There’s more I could mention about how I got to the disfigured state I’m in, but I’ll just leave it at that… I am broken and helpless. Everything in me aches. When I think back on my life, for some reason it is hard for me to recall the happier memories, although I do know there are many of them. But instead, my mind only wants to remember the pain, the fear, the anger, and all the disappointment that is scattered all over the path I have walked. Looking forward, I can make out some great things in the distance, but I often wonder if they are merely mirages… illusions of a bright future that will disappear as I move closer to them. Or worse… what if they are real, but after I’ve gotten a taste of the happiness they bring, a thief runs by and steals them from me?

My beloved sibling, I am stuck. I’m waist deep in mud, I’m dirty, worn, and cold. Right now I have no strength to get myself unstuck. I’ve called upon God to get me out of this mess, but there is so much dirt in my eyes that I can’t see if He’s coming to my rescue or not yet. There is dirt in my ears, so I cannot hear Him. My arms are held down, so I cannot feel Him. If He is near, I am having trouble sensing His presence. Part of me doesn’t care if I die here. If I do, He will come and carry my lifeless body to a place where I can find rest, love, and comfort. Sometimes this sounds better than continuing on the road I’m on, but I know that if it is His will that I keep going, I must do so with whatever life I have left.

I suppose that is all I have to say for now. I have no doubt that you are happy in heaven, and for that, I am glad. You wouldn’t want to be in this world, anyhow. It’s too dark and cruel. Take it from someone who has lived in it. Rest in peace, my sibling. If you will, please be at the gates waiting for me when I arrive someday. I can’t wait to hug you for the first time. I love you.

Yours truly,

Shay

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