We Can Be Angry Too

Tonight I feel angry.  Not an angry devoid of gratitude or faith.  That’s the kind of misguided assumption we often hear, isn’t it? 

“How can you be angry when you have _____?”

“Why don’t you be grateful for what you do have?”

“There are people who have it worse, it can always be worse.”

But the two do not go hand in hand, and tonight I am angry.  While full of all my gratitude for the blessings that have fed both my heart and my family.  While full of my faith in knowing my God is for me and strengthens me in my weakness.   Still, I am angry.

I had known this would be a challenging year full of new navigations and obstacles.  I am accustomed to expecting the unexpected.  That being said, I just didn’t anticipate it feeling as hard all over again.  I have entered this anxiety of the unknown before, back when I wasn’t sure when my next trip to the grocery store would be or when I was borrowing Kleenex as paper towel until I could afford more paper products, or when I wasn’t sure where I was going to be able to shelter my kids.  But then I had watched the miracles unfold right in front of me.  I learned firsthand that things work out.  So why is it so troubling to face my doubts now?

Because I’m feeling it again.  The overwhelm.  The uncertainty.  I’m angry because, how many times will I have to face adversity before I can just be?

I was speaking with a friend.  We were trying to untangle the ‘whys’ out of an unrelenting situation, to make sense of it.  It’s like being on a depleting hamster wheel, chasing an understanding that may never come.  Truth is, there is blessing in this inability to understand.  Unless you live it, it’s nearly unfathomable to know what it feels like to only have your children 50% of their life.  All the traditions, all the celebrations, all the vacations, and family time, smashed into half of a calendar.  That’s a blessing to not understand. 

There are other blessings of this nature.  It’s a blessing to not know what it’s like to be chained by an abusive relationship that’s invisible to an audience.  It’s a blessing to be able to get caught up in the thrill of sponsoring a family for Christmas gifts without feeling a pang of envy (and then guilt of feeling such envy).  It’s a blessing not knowing what it’s like to feel the stress of playing Santa when the kids don’t understand why Santa is so generous at one house.  It’s a blessing to know that your home is your home.  Tonight, my daughter crept up the stairs, sat down and snuggled up next to me on the floor and said to me, “Mom, I have anxiety that something bad is going to happen to you.”  Absolutely it’s a blessing to me that my children and I are so close that they can instinctively sense what I am trying to bury from them.   However, it’s also a blessing not to know what it’s like to have this kind of conversation with your child.  To some, these big life circumstances can be so easily be written off as poor life decisions; “they chose the wrong spouse”, “they should do better with their time and money”, “they should just work more”, “they could just stop fighting”.   I’m angry about undignified assumptions.   I’m angry because it doesn’t make sense how people aren’t more curious to understand, and feel more empathy.

I’m angry for the complacency that “good enough” is good enough.  And that people are rarely apt to put in inconvenient or uncomfortable work to do what is right.  I’m angry about the rampant abuse of power.  I’m angry for those wrongly persecuted.

But tonight, at church, when the talk turned of prayer for elevated worries and heavy hearts, after all my cries for His saving, in my endless searching for His presence, I mostly felt angry with God.  My soul is exhausted.     

Getting a tattoo is painful - hurts like hell, sometimes it will push you to the brink of your physical and mental capacity.  But, as much as you’d like to knock that needle out of his hand, you trust your artist by his strengths and in the end, you have beautiful, meaningful art to show for your endurance.  My blessing tonight: even when I’m knotted and sleepless, I’ll turn toward God in anger, rather than away without faith. 

Life is hard.  Sometimes it’s just not fair.  Sometimes it just plain sucks.  We can feel angry too.  I’m sure Jesus wasn’t skipping past the crowds with his cross.  Rest in this season of Advent – find the crumbs of hope, peace, joy and love and hold on to them tight.

Keep f♡cking going.