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Letters to Taylor: On Anger
You’ve never shown anger and yet you have so much to be angry about.
Hey there, my girl. You’re sleeping again this morning after barely eating breakfast. The house is quiet and I’m trying to work in my office below your room. It’s not working out so well. I have my lists and I’m ticking off each task as usual. But my mind wanders and I find myself wondering why you are so exhausted.
Then I remember the length of your journey. You’ve battled disease from the day you were born. Who wouldn’t be tired? And angry. 22 years is a long time.
I can’t recall a single moment when your face has ever exhibited anger. Frustration? Yes. Pain? Yes. Anger? No. I’ve been thinking about all the photos and videos we have of your sweet face. Bouncing and smiling, you’ve never really been a crier at all, even when you experienced pain. In the last few weeks, your smiles have faded, and anxiety has spread across your face, yet I’ve still not seen you angry.
Truthfully, I’ve been irate enough for the both of us. It’s crazy; I didn’t grow up with emotions of anger. I never felt very angry about anything in life until shortly after you were born. With your birth, an instinctive nature somehow birthed too. I believe God places this protective intuition in parents, but our human nature morphs it. Regardless, “Mama Bear mode”” is one heck of a thing to try to control. This emotion is drawn out of me when someone, anyone, tries to cross what I believe to be the best for you or anyone I love. I’ve had my rounds with teachers, aides, nurses, doctors… well, just about every medical or educational professional existing.
A few months back, for the first time in several years, I lost my temper royally. In front of your brothers and sisters too. It was bad. I told a caregiver, no, yelled at a caregiver, to get out of my house. She had no idea how hard I was fighting for you. How much effort I’ve always poured into caring for you in the best way possible. There was no space for her criticism; she was simply ignorant of what she couldn’t see. She had no idea of all the phone calls I’d made, all the conversations I’d had, all the efforts I was pouring into creating the best plan of action for your health. She thought she knew better, and she thought she was being helpful. Her lack of knowing her place in our home had me fuming.
And I’ve been piping mad at God before. Sometimes for days or weeks or months. God and I have been on a break at times. But not now. Some people might find that strange. You’re the sickest you’ve ever been and I’m not angry at God? No. The times I was angry and held God at a distance have taught me that I want nothing more than to be close to Him.
When I’m alone with you in your room, it’s as if I can almost physically touch His presence. I feel His Spirit hovering over you so strongly that I only feel peace. He’s real. He’s alive and He is walking with us through this valley. I’m not angry. I’m so grateful and I have you to thank for that.
Rest, my love. When your eyes open, I’ll still be here, fighting for your utmost comfort until God calls you home.