Dancing with Grief Plus 3 weeks

I thought about writing more about anger and the grief process, but this isn’t a magazine article but a log of my day-to-day struggles.

Mom asked me what I was doing while I waited for the police officer to come and take my missing persons report on that Monday three weeks ago.

What did I do? What I always do. I wrote. The following is what I wrote in my journal while waiting an hour for the officer to arrive.

Father, I know she is not missing to You. But this is the most scared I've been about Jolene in as long as I can remember.

Where is the peace of someone like Dianne, who faces breast cancer with a smile and a feeling that everything will be okay? Maybe because everything has never been all right with Jolene, at least not in worldly terms, and this feels so far from all right. That she could be dead. That is my fear.

Oh, Lord, I thank You that You gave me feelings. That You understand and accept. That I can say, Your will be done, and know that it is and good and perfect, even when my insides scream with pain.

If Jolene is alive … what fear and guilt and despair she must be feeling. I pray for her, for her safety. For You to bring someone into her life now, tonight, who will reach out to her and help her get through the emergency where she finds herself.

I pray for Mom, that You will give her peace as she waits. That You will give us grace with each other as we respond to the stress. Lord, may we both reflect Your presence in the midst of this storm.

Because You are at the Center. All that live and breathe depend on You. You are good. You have overcome the world and You will give me the strength I need in this trial.
Like David of old, I would call down hail fire on those who have hurt Jolene, on the illness that has plagued her, on my own inadequacies as a parent.

I'm cold and hungry, Lord, can't they get here soon?