Is It Well?

I tell a story to my little grandchildren of when I was a young girl growing up in south Louisiana. Why they like this story, I’m not quite sure. Anyway, it was a blistering hot day and under one of our big oak trees where I sat were dozens of the tiniest baby black frogs we called teetee frogs. I was fascinated, as were my two sisters, holding as many as we could in our palms. While all the others seemed to be bouncing beans, one stayed. It seemed comfortable being held. It was so small, much smaller than my thumbnail. Mesmerized, I carefully leaned forward to share the tiny baby with my dog. GONE! Yes! My dog in one quick move ate my little friend! GONE! Just like that! I was stunned into silence. What had I done! What did I expect! What in the world was I thinking! I didn’t blame my dog. I totally blamed myself. Even as a small girl, I knew the wrong was all mine. Silence.

Such a simple story to segue to a personal struggle:  Why is it so hard to forgive myself?

For seven years now, I have travailed over this. Why can I not forgive myself for my part in our tragedy that resulted in Meagan's death—a fatal car crash caused by a drunk driver? Yes, I forgave Joe within days of the crash, but unforgiveness toward myself lays deep in the recesses of my heart. Don’t misunderstand, I don’t feel prisoned or tormented by the enemy in this. What I feel is extreme disappointment in myself. 

Oh, the many, many journal entries and prayers to God pleading for solace. Days rolling into months while the pendulum swings from sorrow to anger directed at myself. What had I done!

A number of details I could have changed—before and after. You were not there; you do not know of the things I speak. And, no, I do not dare claim the sovereign power to spare Meagan’s life. There is much to this whole synopsis but focusing on it is not my point.

In my years of processing this painful struggle, I have some thoughts if you struggle as I do:

--I think it is easier to forgive others because “they” don’t live in my head. I can push them aside.

--I think maybe I find it hard to forgive myself because I can’t change the actions of others, but I could have changed my own.

--I think maybe it’s easier to forgive others because the expectations on myself are much greater.

--I think because I have regret, unforgiveness follows.

Then there is my Father’s gift of HOPE! HE has made me a fighter! HE has provided for me a firm foundation on which to stand—HIS WORD, HIS PROMISE. Though I can’t seem to forgive myself today for things leading to or those following 4:18am June 14th, I know one day, on HIS day, HE will give me peace with myself—because I pray desperately for it. And on the day of HIS choosing, my soul will rest in HIS sovereign grace, and I will voice like Spafford who penned the old classic, “It is Well With my Soul.” I will finally be well in my soul!

My day is coming. I am a work on my Father’s workbench. HE has not forgotten my heart nor the pain within. My day of redemption will come, and my soul will sing.

(Isaiah 55) You will go out in joy, and be led forth in peace; the mountains and hills will burst into song before you, and all the trees of the field will clap their hands.

(John 14) Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.