The Day My Little Hope Died

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I was a failure in my own mind.

My engagement ended.  I had hurt someone that I loved deeply.  My lofty romantic ambitions ended in a grinding and painful defeat.  I was not the hero that saved the day.

I was confused, embarrassed, disappointed and determined to make up for my failure to deliver as promised.

That feeling of obligation only intensified when my ex-fiance became pregnant to another man a bit later.  The relationship with the child’s father had not worked out.  I was worried for both mother and child.

I wondered how my friend would be able to provide and decided I would offer the best support that I could as a friend.  When I met Saniyah for the first time my fears began to subside.  Holding her filled me with a fatherly pride.

Eventually, as my friend and her child were sufficiently cared for in her community, my initial fears were replaced with a little hope.  Saniyah was real living proof that something good could come out of failure and represented hope that my friend would have the lifelong companion.

Nothing could prepare me.

It was a normal sunny spring day, March 26, 2009, a Thursday.  I was still getting adjusted to my life on the road as a truck driver and had run hard that week.

I was still on the road when I received a text message.  The contents, something about my friend’s baby being in the hospital, really didn’t register for some reason.

However, the message that came a bit later, the one telling me something unthinkable, I did understand and it hit hard.

“Why!?!”

My mind screamed for an answer.

There was a moment of intense anger.

Saniyah, only eighteen months old, was no longer with us.  She has been found in her crib lifeless and blue.  Her death caused by a combination of asthma and pneumonia.  There was nothing that could be done to save her.

My work week ended abruptly.  I told my dispatcher (whose office I was in at the time) that I would be unable to finish the week and had decided I would drive to be there for my friend.  Soon after I was on the road headed east.

A surreal night and a mother’s wail.

The morning sun had been replaced by dark skies and driving rain.  I drove through the torrential downpour, at the edge of control, the worn grooves of I-80 filled with water, and at a higher rate of speed than safe.

I arrived in Brooklyn that evening not even sure how I got there or what to expect.  I had left without any real plan where I would stay or what I would do.  All that mattered to me was that I would be there for my friend if she needed me.

I was soon feeling a bit better.  My friend was willing to see me, her composure was amazing and soon we were back at her apartment with the small gathering of family and friends.

I had settled down on the couch.  My friend was in the other room, which was connected by a large opening, she was looking through pictures as I chatted and then came a moment that will probably be with me to my dying day.

My strong friend, whose calm had been my comfort until then, let out a groan, a wail only a mother could make, and it was a sound that penetrated me to the deepest depths of my being.

That night, while she cried, I bit my lip and held back trying to be strong.  But in that moment something broke, something tore deep inside me, I stared through the hole down into a hopeless and terrible darkness that I had not known before.

That was the day my little hope died.

We buried Saniyah a few days later.  I recall staring at that little lifeless body, feeling helpless, overwhelmed and knowing that I did not have the faith to bring her back to life.  I would have traded my own life to give Saniyah back to my friend.

The hole that stared back at me.

I stopped talking to members of my immediate family who did not attend the funeral.  Before then I had been frustrated with a couple of my siblings who always seemed too busy when I called and now were too busy to honor the life of Saniyah.

It was not fair to them that they bore the brunt of my feelings (nor was it fair to the online community that I was a part of then) but I had a deep anger raging inside that could not be calmed.  They became the more tangible enemy that I so desperately wanted.

And then there was the guilt.  My friend had told me about Saniyah’s health issue and how the doctor seemed more interested in scamming the state than providing quality care.  Why had I not intervened then and insisted that she see another physician?

I was not thinking rationally.

I was trying to stay one step ahead of a monster inside of me.

But I could not always run fast enough and in moments where I felt helpless, things that would only cause a healthy person a bit of concern, my gaze would turn inside and the nightmare would catch up to me.

I would look deep into that hole that had opened the night Saniyah died and a despair that I cannot begin to describe in words would envelop me.  It is that thing of Lovecraftian horror, the words of Friedrich Nietzsche come to life, a terror that would leave me in pieces and sobbing.

My religion, largely an intellectual project, failed to provide me with good answers.  I was, despite regular church attendance, an agnostic for all intents and purposes.  My inability to protect those who I loved or prove my way to faith, along with a string of other failures to realize my dreams, left me hollow inside and feeling totally helpless.

The return of a new hope and purpose.

Tears still well up when I talk about Saniyah and the circumstances of her death.  Life is never the same after an experience like that.  But those episodes of helplessness and profound loss, of reliving that moment from the night she died, have gone away.

My anger subsided.  My estranged relationships restored and mostly better than ever.  My faith now built on foundation more substantial than the book knowledge that had been so woefully inadequate to save me.  I have a bigger hope now than the little one based in my own efforts.

After years of struggle and questions too big for my own mind, I realized that the hope Saniyah represented still lives on.  It is a hope built on trust on faith not of my own works and found in the sufficiency of God’s grace.

My temporary loss is heaven’s gain.

A time to weep…

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“Jesus wept.”  (John 11:35)

Life can leave us feeling dry.  As one of deep emotions I have felt distressed lately and yet seemingly too exhausted for tears.  It is the feeling of being crushed under a heavy weight unable to move it.

Sunday morning a brother shared his own struggle coping with all the broken lives around him.  He spoke of children who appear to be given no chance in life and are neglected.  I thought of the countless masses of humanity, the millions hurting, the millions helpless and those still looking for a day of salvation, where will they find God’s love?

I came home to my beautiful family.  I shared dinner with my parents and sister.  I was sad, struggling and thinking over the lyrics of a hymn sung at the end of the service.  The final stanza on my mind:

“Going forth with weeping, sowing for the Master, though the loss sustained our spirit often grieves; When our weeping’s over, He will bid us welcome, we shall come rejoicing, bringing in the sheaves.”

After the meal mom and I discussed her mother’s mental health since undergoing multiple chemotherapy treatments.  Her mom was always a strong and sharp woman, but now is having difficulty with simple routine tasks. 

Alzheimer’s took my great-grandma.  It is an undignifying end for a loved one who was once independent and strong.  I pondered the loss of my grandma that way, then I thought about my own mother who I love so deeply, who is always there for me, and wondered if I would see her thinking and abilities fade too.

Was this the fate that would befall me as well?

I only wanted one thing in that moment and that was to hold onto mom never letting go.  I gave mom a hug then the floodgates opened.  I wept for my weakness, I wept for mom’s mortality, I wept for grandpa’s fears and grandma’s confusion, I wept for all those in this sick and dying world.

Faith is not impervious to emotion.  Our sorrow is as much of an expression of faith as our joy.  Men of faith weep because they love deeply and share the pain of those hurting.  Tears soften the hard ground of cruelty and judgment of this world. 

“Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ.”  (Galatians 6:2)

Tears are the waters of spiritual healing.  Tears lift and carry away burdens too heavy for our own strength to bear.  May we fulfill the law of Christ and share our tears of joy, sorrow and love.  May our love be poured out to all people. 

God bless.

Promises of better things to come…

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It has been an interesting year and a year of many firsts.  I suffered my first torn anterior cruciate ligament (and hopefully my last) in May and spent most of the year rehabbing it.

I am the proud owner of my first brand new car.  It is a handsome black 2014 Ford Fusion sedan with a five speed manual transmission and represents a vast improvement over my prior every day vehicles.

I have started my first real blog (unless a Xanga foray counts) and you are reading it.

Besides that, I have a first chapter to a book in rough draft form which is also a first for me.  I hope that effort will eventually lead to a first of writing a book if I can find the time to research for the second chapter.

It has been a year of intense feeling, both trials and triumphs, both of deep doubt and deeper faith, with many prayers answered with one that still waits.  Because the work is not finished, my theme from this past year will continue into the next year: With God (or faith) all things are possible.

I have faith God will continue to answer my prayers in amazing ways.  Apparently fortune favors the bold, so I will be bold in faith and boldly predict next year to be my best ever.  I do not expect all sunshine and roses, because bad days happen even in the best of circumstances, but I hope big regardless.

For next year I plan to continue doing what I am doing and improve at it.  I want to continue writing with a goal of improving my ability to communicate ideas.  I want to offer solutions where I can, to help encourage other people and strengthen the good side of things.

I want to continue to exercise regularly and remain physically fit despite a demanding schedule.  I realize good health can’t be taken for granted.  I know fitness, like all good things, isn’t something that happens accidentally, it is a result of initiative, work and God’s grace.

Speaking of work, I plan to continue driving, but will continue exploring options and hope to find something else by next year.  I am still unclear where, what or when I will find the next opportunity.  I have ruled nothing out.  I pray for God’s guidance.

I also want to be more meditative and prayerful.  I hope to read more, stay involved in spiritual development and active in the lives of others.  I pray to be a voice for faith, hope and love.  I want to grow stronger in all areas of life, be confident and live without excuses.

It is our bigger fights of faith that we have the most opportunity to grow and that is what I take into next year.  And, you can be a part of that, I do invite your input and about this blog in particular.  I would love feedback about the content and clarity of my writing.

Are there any topics you prefer of those I have posted on or suggestions of things I should discuss less or more?

Anyways, my work is nearly done for this year, a new year (even if just an arbitrary boundary) is a few hours away, and it is definitely an opportunity to reflect.  So, as I sit here with my tuna fritters and miracle whip ready to eat, anticipating a night full of activity, let me first thank you all for being a part of my life in 2014 and wish a happy new year…

God bless!