Tuesday, February 19, 2013

God and F-bombs

Today I am angry.  Overwhelmingly furious.

I haven't really cried today, or thought about missing my mom.  Today I escaped into task mode.

I planned the memorial service with Jon and the pastor that married us.  He also baptized my mom and has walked these last 8 months with us.  I didn't cry.  I just got it done.

Then I signed papers to have my mom cremated.  Ugh. Yuck. Expletive.

I think there is validity to the stages of grief and also for acknowledging all your emotions.  After planning the service, the pastor prayed for us.  Instead of crying or listening to the pertinent things he said, I just swore like crazy inside my head.

Yup.  High quality girl right here.

But you know what, if God isn't big enough to handle my F-bombs, then he isn't the God I want to worship. I am wrecked.  This last week wrecked me.  Watching my mom suffer put a bigger hole in my heart than losing her.

Maybe in years I will look back at this post and regret my honesty.  Maybe I will grow up and no longer need to use such words to describe my anger.  Maybe I can buy a thesaurus and expand my vocabulary.

But today, I admit the fact that I am pissed off, that I swear my head off, I scream at God, and I still love Jesus.

Today the world isn't all unicorns and rainbows.  Today I am not seeing the brighter side of things.  Today I am being completely real and feeling my pain and anger deep in my gut.  Today I am pissed off at the suffering that my mom had to endure, and the suffering that exists in this world, and I think suffering angers and saddens the heart of God as well.

Thank you for everyone who has sent a text or an email.  Thank you for loving us through this struggle.  Thank you for being present.  Thank you for loving me even with my immature vocabulary.

Today I am thankful for the fact that the God I worshiped prior to June of 2012 is the same God I worship today.  I am grateful that God is still good.  His heart is breaking with mine and he is holding my mom in his arms.  Holding onto hope, even if only by a thread.


  1. You're entitled to feel how you feel honey. Let it out. Praying for you all. <3

  2. So So So Sorry. I've thought of you frequently over the last few days and my prayers are with you and your family.

  3. Jaci
    I am so sorry you are having a hard time. Death to me is never easy. I know there are stages of grief and you have every right to be upset you were not only her daughter but caregiver, that to me is a difficult duty, but to you I am sure a sense of rewarding feeling to you both. PLease know I am praying for you. I can't imagine how you must feel. May God surround you with comfort and peace like you have never felt before.

    jamie pennington

    1. Dear Jaci, Alisson, Erica, Aimee, and all concerned,
      No one can limit the pain in your hearts. It cannot be accomplished. You/we cannot have your/our pain anguished. It's impossible. However know, that in all of your pain, lies the essence of the truly enlightened soul for which you mourn. Nancy/Mom was/is wonderful, beautiful, unreal, perfect. No. It isn't right. It won't ever be. But please understand I have never in my life met anyone like her. Never. No. No. It cannot be ever seen as just, or fair. But please, please feel at ease with the knowledge that Nancy's personality/being went beyond conventional boundaries. Her words resound as echoes within our minds, though few I know would easily admit it. I wouldn't ever admit it until now, although I do it here absently. She is/was what I wish I could be. She's a person of free spirit, honesty, kindness, generosity, and blantent truth. I should be, and she KNEW WE should be. She always knew. How, I will never know for certain, but I can aspire to be her likeness, in wake of her love and wonderful memory...I am sorry I cannot share more... Love to you all. Anonymous