9,308 Days: Entry 2

2/4/26 - At home, again.

Dear God,

We are only a couple of weeks in, and the strength I felt before feels like it is disappearing. I find myself more irritated and easily annoyed. I try to find the strength to keep going, but honestly, being in bed in a dark room feels more comforting. I have never experienced depression before. I guess never say never, right. I did not even realize I was dealing with depression until someone mentioned it. That was when I could finally pinpoint what I have been feeling and recognize the spirit that has been attacking me.

Depression makes you think you are functioning, until you realize you are only surviving. All I want to do is stay home. I do not want interaction or conversation, just silence. Lord, do You not see that I am drowning? What hurts even more is that I am bleeding on the people who are trying to help me. My patience is thin. My temper is short. So what do I do to avoid this? I hide away.

I have been asking You what has been making me so angry, and as You always do, You led me straight to the core. I was listening to a podcast and this was said, “Maybe you are angry, maybe you are upset, maybe you are frustrated, easily annoyed, and even easily offended because your soul is grieving expectations that never came to pass.” That is when I realized that I am not only grieving my father. I am grieving expectations too.

I remember being in the hospital with full expectation that my father’s heart would beat again. I prayed with every bit of faith I had, believing with all my heart that a miracle would happen. I did not care who was in the room or what they believed. I did not care if they thought all hope was gone. I prayed again and again. I even told my mom to ask people to leave because I needed those with faith to intercede. For two hours we prayed and worshiped in that small, dim room, holding onto hope with everything in us, and still the miracle did not come. Everyone around me was crying, but inside I carried both rage and hope at the same time, because I refused to stop believing You would do it. When it was over, I went home as if nothing had even happened, because I still believed the miracle would come.

You saw my prayers day and night, begging You to resurrect him. You did it for Lazarus after four days, and I believed You could do it again. I believed You could do even more. Even on the day of the funeral, I was still expecting a miracle. I got dressed in my black suit, hair done and makeup on, because I was ready for the impossible. I prayed over him again. I dropped to my knees and rested my head on the casket, asking You to raise him up. But the miracle I expected did not come.

So now I find myself grieving that expectation, still trying to understand why You did not get him up. I know You are the God of miracles and the God of the impossible. Why could I not receive the miracle I have read about in the Bible? The miracles You have done for others? Why not this one? So yes, I am angry and upset, but what can I do? I am not God. Who am I to decide who receives a miracle and who does not?

I have heard people say, “It was the will of God for this to happen.” I am still trying to understand what Your will was in all of this. As I write this, with tears streaming down my cheeks, I remember the words You whispered into my heart while I was lying on that cold floor in the back room. You said, ‘The greatest sacrifice causes the greatest revivals.’ As tears rolled down my face that day, I remembered the sacrifice of Your Son, whose sacrifice still causes revivals all over the world to this day.

I have to remind myself that You know what You are doing and that You are still in control. I ask that You give me the strength to keep going. Surround me with people who are still full of faith and who will lift my hands when I do not have the strength to lift mine. Give me the grace to endure this season. I cannot do this in my own strength or understanding.

In Your hands,

Your daughter, Melissa.