You'll Crack Your Head Open!

My best friend is going through a horrible time right now.  It reminds me of my husband talking about watching someone he went white water rafting with get sucked into a whirlpool.  They were in a big group of several rafts and everyone in their boat ended up in the water at one point.  This young woman, who he didn’t know, ended up in a whirlpool.  It kept sucking her in and under and then spitting her back up to the surface.  She was swimming as hard as she could, but it just kept sucking her back in.  A bunch of times they’d think that she was going to make it out and then it would just suck her back.  Hubby said that this went on forever.   For 20 minutes or more.  There was nothing that anyone could do for her.  If someone tried to go in they’d be stuck in the whirlpool too.  Too far from shore to throw a rope or reach a branch.   Just when they thought she wasn’t going to make it, the whirlpool let her go and they were able to get her to shore.

There have been so many times this week that it looks like the whirlpool has let my friend go, but then it grabs her back under and pulls her through for another spin.

I won’t say that watching someone go through so much pain is harder than going through it yourself, because that’s  not true at all, but it’s so hard.  I wish I could do more.  I wish I could say more.  I wish I could be there more.  But there’s nothing I can do except stay on shore while she’s swimming and fighting and be there to help her to shore when the whirlpool finally lets her go.

Today seems like a day when the whirlpool might be loosening its grip.  But I don’t trust it.  Just when she can almost touch the bottom or grab a branch or a rock, she might go under again.   All I can do is stand here and encourage her.  Tell her how strong she is.  Tell her she can do it.  She can make it.

It feels so useless because I just want to be able to grab her hand and be able to add my strength to hers.  But the pain she’s going through is something I can’t touch.  I can’t rip it out of her hands and stomp on it for her until it’s dust that can be blown far away from her.   She has to hold that rock of pain in her arms until it slowly wears away.  And she’ll get there.  I know she will.  She has God.  She has me.  She has her family and friends.  The rock will get smaller.  Someday she won’t even need both hands to hold it.  Eventually it will be small enough that she can put it in her pocket and only be reminded of it when she feels its sharp edges rub against her, or goes searching for something else only to unexpectedly discover it  again.

Finally, I hope that this is happening for a reason.  I know it has to be.  Even if it didn’t start out that way, God will always turn everything around to use it for our good.  To give us greater strength or a new perspective.   I hope that years from now she can look back on this period of her life and see that she gained something.   I know we can’t see it now.  All we can see is the whirlpool and the rocks.

But beyond this current struggle are flowers and meadows and beautiful vistas that God has placed here just for her.

This entry was posted on Sunday, August 3rd, 2008 at 9:11 am and is filed under Life and stuff. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.