Why God?

Why God? That question has been weighing heavy on my mind as my eyes were fixated on the news of the flooding in Texas over the holiday weekend. So many lives lost, whole families, those beautiful Camp Mystic souls. All gone forever. Too many losses we will never be able to accept.

It’s natural to ask why. Growing up, I always went to my dad when I needed guidance, when I needed to ask why. Being able to sit with him, tell him how I felt, or just cry in his arms was comforting. Sometimes he didn’t have the answers, but that was okay. He was always there to just listen. That gave me such peace.

When my late husband was diagnosed with cancer, he never asked why. But one day a young man sat in the cubicle next to him at the cancer center, diagnosed with lymphoma. It was the boy’s first day of treatment, and he was frightened. My Joe did what he always did. He shared his music, shared his snacks, imparted his positivity on him, hoping to make his experience a little less scary. And then my beautiful man came home and cried for that boy. “Why God?” he cried. Every child battling cancer broke his heart. He wanted to take it from all of them.

Some folks don’t believe we should ever question God. But human nature seems to win out more often than not. When our hearts break, we want to understand why. A parent needs to understand why.

I’ve asked why many times over the last few days, hundreds of times over the last few years. I don’t expect an answer. But what I count on is being able to sit with Him and tell Him how I feel. I count on a peace that surpasses all understanding. I pray the people in Texas find the same.