I spent a lot of time being angry with God before and especially after my mother died.
She suffered a great deal as congestive heart failure took its inevitable course. The last two weeks of her life were awful. The hospice team, my family and I took care of her around the clock, trying everything at our disposal to keep her comfortable. Still she suffered in a way that will forever be burned into my mind and heart. Because this is how heart failure ends.
It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. Not to my mother, who was a prayer warrior of the first order her entire life. A devout Catholic, Mom believed deeply in the power of prayer. She had stronger faith and offered more prayers to God and the Blessed Mother in her lifetime than ten people combined.
She was supposed to just pass away in her sleep. She didn’t deserve what happened to her in those last two weeks. It just didn’t square up for me. Those prayers should have protected her from this.
I shared my anger with my grief counselors, Mike and Brenna. Not right away, but a month into the support class that was offered to me. They hung in there with me and encouraged me to say what I had been bottling up. So out it came, at a volume just below a scream.
I shared my anger with Reverend Jeanne, the rector of my church, who reached out to me and set up time to meet at a local coffee house. I let it out as soon as we sat down. Angry tears that just wouldn’t stop.
Mike, Brenna and Jeanne told me that the anger I felt was normal and that God can take a punch. So I punched hard. It turned out that the more punches I threw, the better I began to feel.
Two months after Mom’s death, I was starting to reorganize my life, return to things I enjoy and practice moving forward. Fall bird migration had begun, so I spent mornings out by the fire pit, looking for migrating warblers, vireos, kinglets and other avian travelers.
On the morning of September 16, I saw a small bird flitting about in the leaves of our black walnut tree. I knew it was a warbler, but that was all I knew. I just kept taking photos until the bird moved out of camera range. I remember telling Jimmy that I had seen a warbler, but I wouldn’t know what kind until I looked at the photos that night.
It turned out to be a warbler I’d never seen before and one high on my list of hopefuls: a male Blackburnian warbler. A birder’s favorite for its blaze orange and black feathers, the Blackburnian changes to a still-brilliant yellow and black during fall migration.
I was ecstatic, and it felt really good to be that happy. I showed the photos to Jimmy, who patiently listened to me repeat how exciting this was for me. One of the 10,000 reasons that I love him.
Hoping for more success, I went out with my camera the next morning. After only a few minutes, there was a warbler. It was harder to get a good capture that morning, as the bird was deeper among the leaves. But this time I knew what I was looking at. It was another male Blackburnian warbler.
“Thank you, God,” I whispered.
And in that moment, I stopped. I stopped taking photos and just looked at the tree, camera in my lap. Because something had just shifted in me. A shift from anger to gratitude. I let that warm feeling spread throughout my body, allowing myself to really experience it.
I felt God there with me, along with the gratitude I always have when I am learning about God’s creation. I felt happy, loved and lighter because in that moment, I was not carrying the weight of feeling angry and forsaken. I let it go without even realizing it.
A month has passed since the flash of gratitude that softened my heart. I still struggle to understand why my mother had to go through so much pain and distress until her heart stopped. I doubt I will ever understand.
When I read daily devotions and listen to the Scripture lessons in church, I’m reminded that suffering is part of the human condition. It always has been and always will be. Watching it happen to my mother turned that from an abstraction to an intensely painful reality for me.
What I realize now is that I have not been forsaken. God has been with me the entire time, through the anger, the punches and the tears. He will always be with me. I know without a doubt that Mom prayed for that.
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