Only God Knows Why

This week has been devastating for our state of SC. On Monday we learned that a 6-year-old girl had gone missing from her front yard. Sweet Faye’s body was discovered in a wooded area 500 feet from her home 3 days later. A neighbor who died by suicide has since been linked to her abduction. Anger, shock, and outrage multiplied when reports surfaced yesterday of a 2-year-old who was discovered deceased in an Upstate home along with siblings (3 years and 3 months) with severe head bruising, diaper rashes, and an abundance of fecal matter in their diapers. How utterly heartbreaking and despicable. Pure evil. I can’t understand why people commit such heinous acts. I know we are in the last days. I know that men are depraved and wicked. I just can’t fathom children suffering and being helpless at the hands of such monsters.

I’m also following the stories of 3 children on Facebook fighting aggressive cancers. Their names are Julia, Bryson, and Gray…I anxiously read their updates and pray for healing every day. I sometimes wonder if my prayers are going up any higher than the ceiling. I feel defeated when I see their suffering and “hear” the anguish in the posts detailing their medical procedures and hospital stays. However, I continue to whisper prayers and make it a point to read what their mothers write because I know if I were in their shoes I would want an army of prayer and support for my babies.

Yes, the posts are heavy. Yes, the news articles and press conferences regarding child murders and abuse are gut-wrenching. Yet, I don’t just scroll past or turn the channel. Sure it’d be easier on my emotions, but it’s not about me. It’s about children whose lives MATTER. Even in death, they deserve to be seen and their stories heard. Even in the suffering and trials of innocent, brave little warriors who are in the battle of their lives fighting a disease that we should have a frickin’ CURE for by now, I am inspired to keep pressing forward. I won’t give up praying even though the devil likes to put a doubtful spirit within me…I’ll keep pressing forward because if a mother in Cayce, SC can still breathe after learning that her daughter was taken from her front yard and subjected to who knows WHAT kind of trauma, if mothers can sit by their childrens’ bedsides day after day and night after night and watch them swell and get sick as a result of chemotherapy, then surely I can keep on keepin’ on, and I’ll continue to strive to do my part to honor my son’s memory, and I won’t lose hope of the glad reunion day when I’ll see him again.

Part of honoring his memory is to share special moments and reminisce on special days that we were so blessed to experience with him. Today is one of those days. He would be 15 years old today. FIFTEEN. My mind can hardly comprehend it. I see his classmates on occasion, and who used to be scrawny little rugrat boys just a few years ago are now taller than their parents with broad shoulders, deeper voices, and permits to drive. What in the literal HECK? Where did those babies go? I can’t help but try to envision Carter and what he would look/sound like as a 15-year-old. It’s painful to see so many growing and thriving when he’ll forever be 12 in my mind. Sometimes the anger is overwhelming. I want to scream and shake my fist at God and demand answers. WHY DID MY BOY HAVE TO DIE? I know that anger is one of the stages of grief and that it’s healthy to feel it, so when I get that way, I just get pissed and cuss up a storm and just feel what I feel because it’s REAL. It’s not fake, superficial, and phony. It’s raw, sometimes painful, and sometimes liberating. It comes and goes in waves. I have learned these last few years to just ride it out…I won’t stay in a negative head space for too long, nor will the anger consume me. Part of that is because of my faith, the songs I listen to, the Scriptures that I read, and the army of support that I have. Another part is because of my two girls. They deserve to have a Mama who is present and who didn’t die with their brother.

Blogging helps me navigate through emotions and thoughts that are hard to verbalize. While I reckon I could make this blog be all about me and grief, that’s not my motivation. I want to HELP people. I want to somehow in some small way be an inspiration. I want my boy’s light to shine through my words. His legacy depends on someone being his voice. Many people tell me that they appreciate my authenticity so that is of paramount importance to me. Y’all already know that I get moody and depressed and go through periods of time when I’m more anti-social than normal and I’m really low. Y’all have seen glimpses of me when I’m joyful and victorious and singing all the praises. Right now, though, it’s a mixture of those things. I’m struggling but not in the typical sense. It’s a new struggle so I thought I’d blog about it in case you’re struggling, too.

I just don’t get God sometimes. Well, most of the time, if I’m being honest. I’m attempting to read my Bible through cover to cover, and being the overachiever that I am, I’m doing it in 90 days. Currently I’m in the book of Isaiah which is in the Old Testament. Goodness gracious, there are some passages where I just want to slam the phone down (I have an app on my phone that allows me to read and tracks my progress daily) and scream, “Why did you do that, God?” That’s NOT FAIR!!!! Lots of plagues, killings, famine, and fleeing from enemies. Lots of whining from the Israelites. Lots of stubbornness. Lots of vowing one thing one day and breaking that vow another day from all these people who claim to love the Lord but don’t follow Him. Lots of marriages and concubines and women who go “a-whoring” after false idols. I see myself in all that mess. And I see what God did to them and wonder why in the world I am even worthy to breathe air today. My faith teaches me that God is good, long-suffering, and full of tender mercy. Maybe I’ll get more of a sense of that when I’m in the New Testament and can read the words of Jesus. Right now I’m just kind of wondering why God even made us when He knows we aren’t capable of keeping our word and we fail Him every day. I’m kind of fearful of Him, too. I mean, He’s GOD. He punishes His children and allows suffering, and He’s kinda scary. He seems very big and very menacing to me as I read through these books in chronological order for the first time. I’m very much in awe of Him and tremble on the inside when I think of His greatness. How truly undeserving I am to be where I am and experience what I have when I’m nothing but a wretch.

I hear stories of present-day suffering and wonder how a loving God would allow those things to happen. Why did Faye Marie Swetnik get off a school bus on Monday and be murdered shortly thereafter? She was just an innocent little girl. Why did those little children in Anderson, SC have to endure beatings and neglect at the hands of the ones who should have protected them? They were just little babies and toddlers. Why are children suffering from cancer all across the country and their bodies being ravaged? What did they ever do to deserve that? They didn’t ask to be born! Why did Carter take his life? Why do loving couples long for children and can’t have them when others who are of no account have them and abuse them…discard them like trash when they should be treasured? Why is it that people who are rich do very little to help others and poor people are the biggest givers? Why are we in danger of electing a friggin’ socialist in the United States of America? Why are babies being murdered in the womb? They aren’t of any value in society’s opinion…it’s all about “women’s rights.” What about the right of the one with a heartbeat inside of its mother? Does that life not matter?

I don’t understand any of these things. I wrestled with some of this when I was in college taking religion courses. I guess the older I get, the more I see and the more I get frustrated and let down by man. People who I never thought would let me down do so. Counsel that I never thought would be in error becomes faulty. Leaders disappoint me. My trust gets broken. I become disillusioned and weary. And that’s when the enemy is at his best…when I’m at my worst.

But I’m not giving up. Not this girl. Not today, Satan. One day I’m gonna get to stand before God and maybe He’ll let me have answers to all these questions. I don’t understand most things. I’m an educated person by the world’s standards but very ignorant concerning the things of God. He’s still working on me. My faith has carried me this far and I know it will continue. It’s not a blind faith. I’ve seen enough and experienced enough to know that it’s REAL even when I cannot see. Even when I struggle. Even when I question things. He’s still God. And He’s still good.

Dear Carter,

Happy birthday in heaven, my sweet boy. This week has been hard…it always is on days leading up to when we should be celebrating you and your favorite things. My heart just hurts, buddy. It’s just been me and the baby for hours and hours on end. The loneliness that I feel and the stillness of the house just gets to me…sometimes when I’m rocking her and I look at her I see you. Sometimes when I’m in the kitchen, I feel a presence and swear that there is something passing by out of the corner of my eye but when I turn to look there’s nothing. The emptiness of the house and the quiet is hard, yet, I don’t want the alternative of going out and surrounding myself with people. Then I would have to make conversation, maybe laugh, and I don’t want those things. I just want YOU. Just you, buddy. I miss you so much.

I really don’t know what we’re planning to do today in your honor. I’ve done some acts of kindness this month already, and there’s someone that Daddy and I felt led to help. You’d be proud of that. Caroline’s school did acts of kindness this week in your honor and students wore red, your favorite color. How cool is it that people were thinking of you while being a blessing to someone else? I know at some point we’ll go out to eat. We can’t do the Peddler Steakhouse because I have to work tonight…not sure if Side Street Pizza will be open before I have to leave. Maybe we’ll just do Wades. After all, you sure did love their BBQ beef hash, corn, and macaroni. Maybe I’ll get a slice of PB pie, too, your favorite.

I know we’ll go out to the cemetery and talk to you and release some balloons. I’m thinking I may make some cupcakes and take them to work tonight. If I do, I’ll be sure to put some extra sprinkles and make them colorful. You sure did love color! Thank you for bringing color to my life.

While driving the other day, I heard a song by Lee Ann Womack entitled, “I Hope You Dance.” The lyrics are printed in a childhood memory book that I made for you before you started elementary school. I know you gave those heavens more than just a passing glance like the song says. I’m trying to as well. I promise that on most days I’m trying to make the most of my time down here, buddy. Just torn. I want to be here with your sisters but I want to go to you also. It’s a struggle.

I am also reminded of a song by Kid Rock. He’s a little edgy and not someone whose lyrics you’re familiar with. I listened to his music while in high school. One of his songs remains a favorite of mine even though it’s carnal. You know your Mama ain’t a saint, baby.  Part of it goes like this:

“People don’t know about the things I say and do. They don’t understand about the stuff (PG word) that I’ve been through. It’s been so long since I’ve been home. I’ve been gone. I’ve been gone way too long.

Maybe I’ve forgotten all the things I miss. Oh, somehow I know there’s more to life than this.  I’ve said it too many times and I still stand firm, You get what you put in, and people get what they deserve. Still I ain’t seen mine, no I ain’t seen mine. I’ve been givin’ but just ain’t gettin’. I’ve been walkin’ that thin line.

So I think I’ll keep a walking with my head held high. I’ll keep moving on and only God knows why.”

Mama’s going to keep walking, sweet Carterbug. I’m beat up and battered, but I’m still going and trying my best to not give up. I’m defeated in many ways but victorious in others. Please keep sending me signs. Tell Jesus that I’m sorry for not being stronger. Ask Him to help me. Tell Ethan that I hope he has a good birthday today, too. I’m still in awe that I got to meet his mother last year on this day and that you both have the same birthday.

You’re missed forever and a day, my sweet boy. Sending all my love today to you in heaven. On this day 15 years ago at 4:33 PM I saw your face for the first time and looked into the most precious eyes I’d ever seen. I held a little piece of heaven in my arms that day! Today I carry a little piece of heaven in my heart. Until we meet again, rest easy, baby. Happy birthday. I love you forever and always.

Boop!,

Mama