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What God Did When I Told Him I was Mad at Him

So, last time I promised to tell you about something that I am calling a miracle... or maybe it is grace. Either way, I'll pick up where left off last time...

For the first time the other day, I opened my mouth and cried out to God how I really felt. In the midst of

an electric joyous and praise filled service, I was hidden (Psalms 91). But, in a place safe enough to be honest. I told God loudly that I was angry and that I didn't understand. I told him I didn't know what to do and that I really didn't know what else to say. I shared I didn't now how to worship Him anymore, but that I knew that I needed him. I told him that He was going to have to make sense of taking my Daddy away and that I needed help on what to do. I missed my Daddy and I wanted above many things to hear his voice.

The rest of the day's events were not too out of the ordinary. We had lunch with my mom and younger sister, watched the babies play, went to my cousin/sorority sister's "Meet the Principal Night" (soooo proud of her) #SKEEWEE, and then came back to pick up our son from mom's house. The next few hours were very emotional as we talked through more facets of daddy's passing as we cried and discussed the torrential winds of life that were blowing and how we missed him so.

From there, MIke, Mikey, and I got home super late and the frustration of all our different life disappointments and hardships sucker punched me my in stomach. My home seem to serve as the prefect metaphor for the way I felt life was going. In every room there was chaos, mess, and discord. I felt that no matter how hard I tried to pick up the pieces and get things in order, it was to no avail. I tripped over stuff here as I wiped things up there, So many of our belongings were where they didn't belong and scrubbing seemed to only spread the stains. I cleaned and fussed and cleaned and fussed.

I was so upset and angry as all get out. It was another wave crashing in my grieving tsunami. And, as I, half-dressed hit the floor with my lace-front wig in hand, my husband look bewildered and my son was sweetly un-bothered. Meanwhile, I was done and I announced to my family that I was giving up because couldn't get a grip on life. Mike tried to encourage me and give me a boost. He reminded me of our son and referenced the scripture that tells us that faith is the substance of things hoped for and the evidence of things not seen...

I was pissssssssed.

"I've tried that," I replied shortly and got up only to start cleaning again. How dare he say, "I'm not trying to throw scriptures at you and then do it anyway," I thought. He didn't understand and I didn't want to hear it. I slowed down long enough to get ready to put our son to bed and after a couple of more short heated interactions, Mike made Mikey a bottle and continue cleaning for a bit. He was frustrated and I was angry. While resting there I continued to fume while being sad at the same time. Suddenly, down the hall, I heard worship music and then what sounded like preaching. (insert eye roll)

Instead of listening, I became angry again feeling like my husband was being inconsiderate as I was trying to get Mikey to sleep. The truth also was that I didn't want to hear that either and it seemed like just words, rituals, and religion.1

But soon, I felt bad after I not so quietly closed the door. I wanted to wait to apologize but soon I drifted off into an restless sleep. Nightmares filled my mind space and I woke up just as Mike was coming into the room. I wanted to crawl to his side but Mikey had me hostage (yes we co-sleep) and that was excuse enough for my pride.

The next morning, we woke up and stumbled around each other until finally I apologized. Around this time I notice a spiral that he has been carrying. I ask him, " What are you writing?" He let's me know that it's not his writing so my nosy self takes a closer look. My heart drops as my eyes focus on the handwriting and I realize; it's my Daddy's.

When Daddy could still use his hands and talk he would tell me that he would wake up in the wee hours of the morning with sermons and messages going through his head. He told me he didn't know what his purpose was or why he had the thoughts and I suggested him he should right them down. So did Mom and so did Jas. He didn't feel like it was much but I told him that someone would need the words that he had to say and that even though he couldn't walk he could still be used by God. So Daddy and I started writing together some of them I even have posted here on my blog. Man, I missed those times. It was then, too, he would push me to go for my dreams as a writer. We were a team.

When I would come over he would say, "Hey Licia, read this and tell me what you think." I was already touched by the way Daddy did and said things. He was authentically himself which helped me be myself. He's words were vitamins to me.

Recently, I had forgotten all of this and wished I had something of his to hold onto; something special that was between he and I. I had forgotten my wish and my prayer from that Sunday until I saw the spiral and read My daddy's words:

...Believe that God is going to supersede your need...

...God loved you long before you loved him...

Don't wait until tomorrow to praise him or turn to him. This is your moment. This is you big time to shine and start walking in the promise He has for you . As much as you need hope for you the future, you also need hope for today.

Life, God, and people are to be enjoyed. So get out there and enjoy them!

I believe that God leaves us better than we started. Things might be terrible for you right now. You may be facing the worst possible situation. But, the Bible says, "Rejoicing comes in the morning."

I was undone. Reading Daddy's words and seeing his handwriting sent so many emotions through my soul. Sorrow and comfort pulsed through me simultaneously as a still small voice whispered,

" Alicia, You told him he should write because somebody would need to read his words. I told him to write them because you would need to read his words."

It was at this moment, with tears messing up my unfinished makeup that I sincerely, humbly, and tenderly said, "Thank you God"... it was the miracle of joy in the midst of complete sorrow.

God is relentless and gracious... and even though I am still not at peace with His decision the miracle is I'm not as infuriated as I was before.

Lead Me Back - Morgan Harper Nichols
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