They're all in my head. The dark times, the screams. Sometimes I remember watching an old Jimmie Cagney movie on TV...White Heat, I think, when he rushes around in escape and it's like the camera is his eyes. That's how it is sometimes. My eyes are in someone else's head. I see but it's all too unreal. It must be happening to someone else.
Last week was a toughie. I guess to do its job, chemo builds up and up and up inside my hero. The vile endless fatigue that besets him had me rage and weep all day when alone in the car. For three decades, he's been the one I unload on when demons come--a bad rejection, a row with my difficult mother, an insane headmaster. But now when I need him the most, I can't burden him.
But I am a Christian. I know Jesus is out there somewhere. Easter still rings in my heart and deep down, I know His footprints are beside me. Still, my faith has taken some deep dumps. After a "nadir" last month, I confessed to my hero that I'd lost my faith for two whole days. He just chuckled and said, I bet that pissed God off. And I was okay then. Today after church, a friend sat and prayed with me. Now, I'm not a hand-waver, holy-roller type. This was kinda personal. Yet it worked. I felt the love, the amazing grace. The power of miracle.
I'm just human. When the screams in my head don't stop, I depend on God's mercy to quiet them, His light to shine through my darkness. I admit though, it doesn't always happen on my schedule. There's the human rub.
A writer pal sent prayers and love with this proverb: When the going gets tough, the tough get on their knees. Well, I'm not so tough, but I am kneeling big-time.