I woke up this morning to a packed out bed. My 6 and 3 year old crawled in some time early this morning. Even in a king-sized bed – four’s a crowd. I decided at 6:30 a.m. that it was time to get out of bed, and go sleep in their bunk beds. But at 6:30 a.m. the sun is already making its appearance, and my mind is already racing. So naturally I grab my phone, and jump on Facebook to get a daily dose of what the world did while I slept. I realized if I wanted to get my Bible reading out of the way I needed to do it before my littles woke up.
I hopped onto She Reads Truth to follow along with the Ruth Bible study. As I started the last portion of my reading I saw a verse I had highlighted some time ago.
“The Lord will sustain him on his sickbed and restore him from his bed of illness”
Two words were written next to that verse, and it took a moment to recover after I read them.
It’s been almost 3 years since he’s passed away. The road from his accident to his death was a long and weary road. Full of tears, questions, broken hearts, separation, and heartbreak. When there is tragedy, there is always restoration that is walking alongside it, and revealing itself in small ways. I know that during that time people found faith in God. I know that it made us cherish our family more. I’m sure there are stories I’ll never know about how in the midst of our families tragedy someone found life.
This is where I veer off course a bit. Although I know those things to be true, I struggled after my uncle passed. Struggle doesn’t do the torment I went through justice. I struggled more after his death then after his accident. After his accident, I begged and pleaded and prayed to God to PLEASE heal him. Let him be a modern day miracle. Please, let him sit up from that bed fully restored. I prayed for 7 long years! My faith wavered, but never faltered. I HAD to believe God would restore him, because afterall, my aunt had passed not 2 years prior, to breast cancer. I felt like God owed us one.
During his time in his coma or whatever it was categorized as, there were a few stories of people who woke up from their comas after 2, 5, 9 years. I thought his restoration and healing were right around the corner. The months turned into years and still nothing. That’s not to say that he didn’t improve in small ways. He stayed with us for another 7 years.
He passed away right before Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving! Can you believe that? While some family members were glad he was finally at peace I wrestled with God about it day and night. We were like a couple headed for divorce. I yelled, cried, and screamed at Him. I gave Him the silent treatment. I wished I never knew Him. I thought it would’ve been easier had I never had the hope he was selling. Ignorance it bliss, right? I cried so many tears. My uncles funeral was very surreal. I was going through the motions. Enjoying the stories about him, and wishing this was all a horrible nightmare. At the end, family was saying their goodbyes as they walked up to his coffin. I wasn’t going to do it, but I did.
I lost it a little when I went up there. I grabbed his hand, and it was cold. Nothing like the warm, huggable, tender-hearted cowboy that I hugged on so many occasions. Not the man that would pick me up and call me a sack of tomatas when I was little. Not the man that came to my rescue when I had car troubles. Not the man that walked me down the aisle, and whispered in my ear to take it one step at a time. Not the man that stood in as my father figure when my own didn’t have the time for me. I know he wasn’t in that coffin, but it shook me to the core when I touched his hand. I wanted to scream at God! WHY!!!?!?!?!?! Why did you take him??
Three years in November. Even as I write this I can’t stop crying. I miss him so much! My heart aches when I start to think about him. That verse!! So no God didn’t heal him. Am I upset about it? I was very upset about it. Am I still? I guess. I don’t really know anymore. If I could bring him back I would. I miss his one-liners. I miss his hugs. I miss his voice. I really miss that scratchy beard of his. I see diesel trucks everyday, and I think of him.
I wanted to say something profound about restoration here, but I’m struggling with even that. I’ll say this – Uncle Larry’s restoration is complete. Even if it’s not the way I wanted it to happen. He is fully restored in Heaven with my aunt Liz and my grandpa. I guess my heart needs a little more restoration then I thought.