Chosen One


I wrote this post a few nights ago, and then didn’t publish it. It sounds pretty whiney, which I am not proud of. And I’m doing really well lately. But you never know when someone else might be feeling the same way, so I’m going to share it anyway.

Sometimes I wonder why I was chosen to live this life.

I don’t mean this in a woe-is-me-why-me kind of way, I truly don’t. Honestly, I mean this question as a serious contemplation. Why was I chosen for this path? Why was I selected as the person to be The Hubs’ wife, to become a widow, to be a single parent, to spend my life alone now?

I never would have expected these things. But here they are. Deep down, I truly believe that there is a reason for all of this, for the path my life has taken, for the things other have to endure.

I have to believe that.

I don’t know those reasons, I don’t know what grand scheme they play into, I don’t even know who makes those reasons…I don’t know anything. I just know what I feel in my heart to be true. And in my heart, I believe there has to be a grand plan. Only a God of epic proportions could create all of the intricate, unexplainable beauty in this world, so it stands to balance that only that God could be behind all of the pain as well. And if the Jesus I know, that forgiving, accepting, loving, renewing presence, has anything to do with that God, then it can’t be all for nothing. The sorrow and devastation has to eventually be for good somehow, even if I can’t see it now. I have to have faith in that, in something, or it would all seem so pointless that I wouldn’t be able to hold on.

My faith could be wrong, I don’t know. You don’t know. No one knows. But isn’t that the very essence of faith? Believing when you don’t know?

So, I have to believe that there is a reason.

I just wish I knew what that reason was. If I knew why, if I knew for sure that there even was a why, it would make living with the questions a little more bearable. Maybe if I knew there was another chapter for me out there, it would make the waiting a little more pleasant.

I know I am fortunate. I often look at myself from the outside… yearning and contemplating while sitting inside my comfortable home, listening to beautiful music, comforting myself with a nice glass of wine and a plush blanket, just feet down the hall from my amazing child… and I feel such GUILT. Who am I to feel that I am suffering when there are such wonderful blessings around me?

But sometimes I still ache.

Sometimes I wonder if I was chosen to be alone.

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