May 24, 2021
2012 proved to be the year that I began asking them.
It was the year my mom died 30 days after being diagnosed with stage IV pancreatic cancer. Just 30 days!
Questions flooded my mind as I attempted to make sense of that indescribable month. In addition, thoughts raced through my mind, thrusting me into a space of fear, uncertainty, and anger.
I posed these questions to family and friends, who delicately redirected me elsewhere. Hurtful at the time, it made perfect sense. None of them could truthfully answer the questions looming in my mind.
“Well, who do I turn to then?” I asked myself.
My first thought, God. However, I’d always heard that it was disrespectful to question God. “God always has His way, and we just need to trust that” was the sentiment others shared.
Nevertheless, I asked anyway. Desperation led me down the path of trying to get to the bottom of things.
I needed answers and deep within myself, I recognized the need to honor my questions instead of running from them.
For me, it was anger. On the surface, my grief looked like hurt. However, as I dug deeper into my pain, I realized that anger had anchored itself in my heart. This recognition afforded anger space and helped me address it in more healthy ways. It also helped me loosen the grip on control as I faced additional uncertain situations.
Friend, I know asking the tough questions may seem daunting. Or impossible. Or even ridiculous. At the same time, it’s do-able and necessary, particularly to shed light on areas that need to be exposed.
I’d love to hear what comes to mind as you consider how you might begin asking the hard questions in your life.
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