Note to God

Mother and Daughter:

It's a special bond that spans the years.

Through laughter, worries, smiles and tears.

A sense of trust that can't be unbroken,

A depth of love sometimes unspoken.

A life long friendship built on sharing,

Hugs and kisses, warm and caring.

Mother and daughter, their hearts as one...

A link that can never be undone.

Today is July 8, 2014. Today my baby girl turns 25...even though she is forever 21. Today it has been four years since the horrific car accident that killed Brittany's boyfriend and his dad instantly...then taking my little girl's life five days later. Since Brittany's death, I've dreaded every July 8th. I didn't look at it as a day of celebration anymore. To me, July 8th stopped signifying the day the most beautiful girl in the world was born. It stopped signifying the day God chose ME to be Brittany's mom. Instead, July 8th became a blaring number on the calendar that shouted, "The beginning of the end." I stopped celebrating her life. 

There's a song called "Note to God" that was released about five years ago by a teen YouTube sensation, Charise. It's a song about how much we need hope, guidance and strength from God in a world that's falling apart. We've all done that at some point in our lives, haven't we? Written our own little notes to God? Maybe several? I know have. My notes often contain words and phrases like: why, how could You, what if...and so forth. I know I've also done more than my fair share of begging and bartering, too. But how many "Thank You" notes have we written? Notes of praise and gratefulness? I'm sure I fail miserably in that department, just like anyone else. But today...the day God placed that innocent, beautiful little girl in my arms twenty-five years ago...I, along with my husband, Brett, and our son, Bryson, will try and muster every ounce of strength possible to be thankful...and celebrate every breath in time God gave me with Brittany. 

Here is my note to God...one I hope He passes along to Brittany...

Heavenly Father...Today is such a bittersweet day. Twenty-five years ago, at 9:25pm, in an absurdly hot hospital, thousands of miles away in Germany, You blessed me with the most beautiful girl in the world. I'll never forget the first time she opened her amazing blue eyes and stared up at me with wonder. It was like she could see right through to my very soul. I never knew what life or love really meant until You gave me her. Would You please tell her that for me? Please let her know how proud I always was of her...and still am. I don't like referring to her in the past tense, Lord. In fact, I still struggle with that...because she will never be the past for me. As long as I am...she is. I know she wants me to be happy, Lord, but it's hard. So hard. Please tell her there isn't a single moment of any day that she isn't on my mind. Tell her that I miss her quirks, her Brittany-isms, her enchanting smile and brilliant blue eyes. Her infectious laugh...my laugh...because they're the same...her bony hugs and random midnight calls just to say, "Love you, Momma!"  

Does she know how much her little brother has grown? Does she know he's starting high school next month? Can she see how much he misses his big sister? Can she hear the beautiful music he plays each time he sits down at the piano or with his guitar? Does she know how much Brett cherishes the gift of her wanting him to walk her down the aisle when she got married? Would she be married by now? I have so many questions for her. 

Did I tell her "I love you" enough? Does she know? Did I hold her enough? Everything that is good in my life began with her. Please tell her for me. I feel like she's slipping away from me, God...and that scares me. I need her. I want You to give her back to me...something I know will never happen. I miss her to the point of not being able to breathe. Please tell her that I'm sorry for all the mistakes I made. Did one of those choices lead to this accident? I need her to know that I'm trying...most of the time, anyway. I'm trying to move forward into a life she is no longer physically present in. I just don't understand. I still can't wrap my head around the heartbreaking reality that my beautiful little girl is gone. Yes, I have thousands of memories for which I am so grateful. But I want more. I'm sorry if that makes me selfish.

But most of all, God, I want to thank You for sparing my daughter's life when the accident happened. Thank You for keeping her perfect in every way. I didn't get the miracle I would have given my life for, but You gave me a miracle for which I will forever be grateful...the miracle of time. Something that, to this day, no one can explain. But I know. 

Would You please tell her that the fight she put up for those five days following the accident is something that still amazes me? I know You gave her the strength to do that for me...for us...the bond between my little girl and me. You knew...Brittany knew I needed that time with her...time to hold her just a little longer, kiss her, whisper my love to her, laugh with her, lie quietly with her in bed, cradling her in my arms, just listening to the sound of her heartbeat. You gave her that strength, Lord. There is no doubt in my mind that You were sitting with us the entire time I held her, telling her, "Not yet. Your mom isn't ready. Just a little longer." Please tell her the hardest words I ever had to say are the words I wept and whispered in her ear, "If you need to, baby, and as much as it will break my heart, I will do my best to let you go...but I will never say goodbye. I will see you someday soon...so wait for me." Can You tell her that for me? She was and always will be my soulmate, best friend and little girl. My other half. Two hearts made from one. A bond so rare that only You could have created it. Please tell her, won't You? I know I have no right asking this of You and I certainly don't deserve any of it, but I pray You will tell her anyway. I need her to know that she will forever be alive in my heart...until the day I draw my last breath and we're reunited once more. 

Thank you, Father...

Amen~

So today, I will celebrate Brittany's life...albeit, through tears. I will smile, because she was so excited that day...July 8, 2010...her 21st birthday. And out of ALL the people in her life, she chose me...her mom..to celebrate it with. And I will smile at the memory of our many phone calls that morning...and all the "I love you's" we shared before the accident. No, it wasn't my birthday on July 8, 2010, but Brittany and God blessed me with priceless gifts I will cherish for the rest of my life. 

Happy Birthday Brittany Erin <3 My beautiful little girl...now and forever. 

"No one else will ever know the strength of my love for you.

After all, you're the only one who knows what my heart sounds

like from the inside."

Rest Stop

The Mirror

There is a mother in the mirror

who looks a lot like me,

But her eyes are sad and lonely

a smile you will not see.

This sad and lonely mother

she once was so carefree,

But now she wanders through her days

not knowing who to be.

This sad and lonely mother

who stares so desperately,

She begs for peace and comfort

from her constant suffering.

"You're strong," "You're Brave," "We're proud of you,"

is what this mother hears,

But if you'd look inside her heart

She's drowning in her tears.

There's something so familiar

about this mother in the mirror.

I know her pain, she cannot breathe

I know...because she's me.

Copyright 2012 April Schuette

I published that poem over two years ago, on March 18, 2012. That's who I was then. Frankly, on many days, it's who I still am. But she and I? We've become better acquainted now. We're no longer strangers. The refection I used to see staring back at me through that shattered mirror is slowly coming back into focus. She looks the same on the outside (albeit, a little older and a lot more worn), but she is very different on the inside. 

After God called my little girl Home, I was shattered into a million microscopic slivers of glass that were scattered throughout each and every fiber of my being. Since then, God has been gently trying to help me let go of all these shards of grief and pain; the ones I've been grasping onto so tightly that I bleed. But I'm stubborn. More than that though, I'm scared. Absolutely terrified, to be honest. Why? Because if I try...I mean, really try, to move forward (not ON...there's a huge difference) through this pain I've been clinging to like it's a life preserver, does that mean I have to let Brittany go, too? Does that mean I'll forget her? Logically, of course, I know I will never forget her. She was, and still is, a large piece of me. But there are so many days now when I feel like she was just a beautiful dream. Someone too ethereal for this world. Then there are days when I can still hear her laughter; see her blue eyes shining with her breathtaking smile; I can see her absentmindedly twirling her hair like me, while deep in thought. And I can almost smell her and feel her lanky, bony hugs that I miss so much. Will I lose all of that if I finally open up my hands to God and relinquish what He's wanted all along...these final pieces of brokenness I've stubbornly clung to for almost four years? Will Brittany become less real and more dream-like? That's what frightens me. 

Somewhere along my quest, I think I must have pulled off at a rest stop of sorts, and haven't budged since...because Brittany is there. So I stayed. One leg in the car, one leg out. One piece of me in the present with my husband and son and the other in my own little world with Brittany. And trying to live in two worlds simultaneously? Well, it's not only mentally exhausting (not to mention damaging to any cognitive capacity I might still have), but it can have severe physical repercussions, too. I know, because I still suffer from a lot of them. So many times I've tried to swing both legs back into the life I'm left to live now, but in my head all I hear is her crying out to me. "Mom! Don't leave me! Please stay!" But it isn't really her. It's me. I'm the one who's crying out, "Brittany! Don't leave me! Please come back!" But she can't. And even if she could, she wouldn't, because that little rest stop I've been idling in for so long is her rest stop...not mine. I don't belong there...not yet, anyway. 

I've been cheating my son out of having a full-time mom. I've been cheating my husband out of having a real wife...not a roommate. So I have to choose: Straddle two universes and continue to damage myself even further...perhaps irrevocably...or plant both feet in the here and now. The choice is obvious, of course. But that doesn't mean it comes without pain. What's important, detrimental even, is I owe it to my husband and my son to give them what they need, what they deserve...me...100 percent. I owe it to myself. I owe it to my daughter. And even though people (myself included) say there is no timeline for grief (I still believe that, by the way), maybe in some areas...of my life anyway...a timeline really does exist. Not a timeline for the grieving process itself, but more of a timeline for how long you can live in the past vs. when it's time to start living in the present again. I'm not saying that I will stop grieving over my daughter's absence from my life. That will never happen. Never. I guess what I'm trying to convey is this: I can't let it consume me anymore. As heartbreaking as it will be, I must leave that little rest stop. Parenthetically speaking, it's what I've come to embrace as my paradoxical safe haven of pain. What I need to do is merge back into my life. God has put me on this quest for a reason, and it is time I find out what that reason is. 

I will still grieve for Brittany...my beautiful, perfect little girl...until I draw my last breath. I will still have bad days when I retreat within myself and want to be left alone. That's OK. In fact, it should be expected...in April Schuette's world, anyway. But I will also live. Maybe not in leaps and bounds, but I will live. I will live for my son and my husband. I will live for myself. And I will also live for Brittany. I will not let her death be in vain. I want it to mean something. I want to be a better person because of it.  But I can only accomplish that by giving God what He's been waiting for all along. My pain and brokenness. So, it's His...because I am weak...and He is strong. And I know Who's gentle, loving arms are holding my little girl for me right now...until the day comes when I am able to do it myself. 

~

Then Jesus said, "Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. "...Let me teach you, because I am humble and gentle at heart, and you will find rest for your souls.

Matthew 11: 28-29( NLT)

I love you Brittany Erin <3

I

Overcomer

No temptation has overtaken you except what is common to mankind. And God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can endure it. 

1 Corinthians 10:13

"God never gives us more than we can handle." Comforting thought, isn't it? And it's almost always the "go to" phrase people use when someone is going through a difficult time...like the death of a child. It's circulated on FaceBook almost on a daily basis. It's meant to bring comfort. It's meant to give you hope that you are, indeed, stronger than whatever affliction or circumstance that's knocked you down. In fact, I made a brief reference about that phrase in a post I published in January 2011 titled "Figuring it Out." Here's a brief overview of the "comforting cliches'" I referred to:

• "You might bend, but you won't break." Well, guess what? I broke. No, I shattered into a million pieces.
• "What doesn't kill us only makes us stronger." I died, so I guess that makes me weak.
• "It was meant to be." For whom was it "meant," may I ask? I can think of a thousand other people it should have been "meant" for: rapists, murderers, child abusers and molesters...need I go on?
• "God doesn't make mistakes." Well, of course He doesn't, which segues into the next cliche...
• "There's a purpose for everything." As much as I hate to admit it, I have to concede to this one, even though the purpose or reason isn't quite clear to me yet.

• And last but not least: "God never gives us more than we can handle." I've said it before, and I'll say it again...either I grossly underestimate my ability to handle such unspeakable pain, or God seriously overestimates it!

But you know what? I believe He does give us more than we can handle...on our own, that is. No, I am not contradicting the Bible, and I am certainly no Theologian; but I think that verse from 1 Corinthians could possibly be one of the most misconstrued and misquoted verses that has been taken out context from God's Holy Word...Scripture. 

"...And God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear." (translated by many as "God will never give you more than you can handle"). 

But read carefully what is written next:

"... But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can endure it."

Temptation doesn't just come in the most common ways that many of you are probably thinking about right now. I am of the belief that temptation goes much deeper than that. My daughter died. Was I tempted to end my own life to be with her? Somewhere in the back of my incoherent mind...yes...I think I was. I'm not proud of it, but I'm also not ashamed to admit it. I never plotted my demise...consciously, anyway...but I did become anorexic and very ill. Was I tempted to turn away from God?  Was I tempted to give up on life and just be? The latter, yes. The former, no. But I was tempted to ignore Him; put Him in "time out," if you will. That is one temptation I absolutely caved on. I never renounced my faith...or God...nor would I. Ever. I simply shut down. 

Does God give us more than we can handle? Yes, I think so. But He also offers us the strength we need to OVERCOME. Think about it. If God only gives us things we can handle on our own, then why would we need Him at all? 

"...But when you are tempted, He will also provide a way out so that you can endure it." 

What is the "way out?" God! He will try us. He will test us. Why? Because He wants us to know that we can overcome anything...with HIM. It's a test of our faith in Him...especially for Christians. It's easy to be the faithful, church-going, let-my-light-shine, hide-it-under-a-bushel, no! (Bible School days), kind of Christian when things are going our way, but when that first blow comes, followed by another and another, that's when we are tempted to give up, because maybe we feel God let us down. He really did give us more than we can handle. I mean, what's the point of believing, praying, going to church, being a "good person" if we are susceptible to the same heartaches and bad luck as everyone else? Friends, Christians are not immune to anything: crippling pain, unforeseen tragedies, life-altering circumstances that just don't make sense...or our children being taken from us much too soon. In fact, the Bible says that God does, indeed, test our faith with things that we may consider just down right cruel. And those test or tests...especially for Christians...are the hardest to overcome...on our own.

My beautiful Brittany departed this earth on July 13, 2010, at 5:10pm. Have I conquered my pain because God has provided me a way out of the temptation to throw my hands up in the air, shake my fists at the sky and scream at Him, "I'M DONE?!" No, I have not conquered my pain, nor am I healed. Brittany's absence from my life is not something that can be cured with a pill or a bandage. Our family chain is forever broken. 

I receive so many emails from people who are just beginning their walk on a road they never thought they'd find themselves on. "How do you do it," they cry? Please forgive me if this sounds a bit pious, but without God, I couldn't do it. Even in the beginning, when this nightmare began, it was God all along. I just wasn't in a frame of mind to realize it.

I'm 42 months into my journey now and I am still broken. To be honest with you, I think I always will be. I still have meltdowns, days I can't and/or won't get out of bed, days I refuse to speak to anyone and lock myself in my dark bedroom and watch Brittany's favorite movies over and over again, days I can't breathe, days when I feel like I'm still laying with her in her hospital bed, listening to the sound of her sweet, beautiful heart, and days when I'm confused and angry with God. But that's OK. If anyone understands my pain and suffering, it's Him. He gave His only Son to be brutally crucified on a cross for us, after all. But 42 months into my journey, I've also grown...both in faith and fortitude. The bad days will always be there. I've come to accept that, albeit painfully so. But I also have days where I actually leave the house, have lunch with a friend, go to the mall...and smile. And anyone who knows me well, knows what a huge step that is for me. 

Did God give me more than I can handle? Of course he did! It would be utterly ridiculous to think otherwise. My beautiful Brittany was ripped from my life! But the only way I've been able to make it this far is because of His promise to provide a way out. His promise to help me endure it. And this quest I'm on...I'm going to need all the endurance I can get. 

Will God ever give you more than you can handle? Well, that depends on you...and whether or not you choose to put your faith in Him. 

I can do all things because Christ gives me the strength. (Philippians 4:13)

I love you Brittany Erin <3

Semantics

~Just because you're living doesn't mean you're alive ~

Merriam-Webster defines living as: having life; full of life or vigor; suited for living, etc. Other words used to further help us understand what 'living' is include: functional, viable, useful, productive...you get the idea.

Antithetically, the word exist is defined as: to continue to be; to have being in a specific place; and the most disturbing of them all: to live at an inferior level or under adverse circumstances. In other words...you just are.

So why the vocabulary lesson? I've been having an extremely difficult time lately. I sleep...a lot...or not at all. I don't eat because I forget to, which is now causing residual medical complications. I have crippling panic attacks that send me straight back to bed. I still cry a lot...even to the point of retching. Is that living...or simply existing? 

Not long ago, after one of my major breakdowns, my husband held me and said, "April, you're not living. You're just existing." What? I'm here, aren't I? I breathe. I take up space. I communicate (Kind of. I guess it depends on what method of communicating we're trying to define here). Therefore, I both live and exist, right?  Apparently not. Of course, on an intellectual level, I'm well aware of the differences between the two words, and, if asked, I could easily explain them...just not in the context of my own life...or existence. Presumably, I'm not full of vigor; I'm not very functional, nor am I useful or productive. Suited for living? Well, that one seems a bit harsh, don't you think? So which one defines me? I continue to be, ergo, I exist...seemingly at an 'inferior level', though, and under 'adverse circumstances.' Adverse circumstances? That's a colossal understatement! Would someone please explain to me how I'm supposed to harmoniously coalesce the two if I'm just existing under less than stellar conditions? After all, it's not like I can change my plight, and it certainly isn't mind over matter. "It's been over three years. Shouldn't she be living her life by now? Isn't it time for her to move on?" Perhaps many of you are thinking that right now. In fact, I would be willing to bet that a few of those closest to me...those who have consistently remained by my side from the very beginning, wonder just how long I will continue to stay trapped (or willingly linger) in the pain and seclusion of Brittany's death; her incomprehensible earthly absence from my life. I can't answer that.

Why should I allow others, myself included, the right to label me as one or the other, anyway? I am living...both for and through my son and husband. They fill me with joy and happiness everyday. God has blessed me immensely with my family. And believe me, there isn't a single day that passes that I don't thank Him for that. 

"Don't you want to move forward, honey?" my husband asked me. Hmm...a trick question. The most rational answer would be yes, of course. But that's not what I said...because being rational isn't something I excel at. My immediate response was, no...and here's why. For the first time since Brittany left me, I was finally able to articulate...both to myself and my husband...why I can't or won't forge ahead. 

Bear with me for just a moment, because the following is going to sound completely mental.

Using my fingers to represent a stick figure Brittany and a stick figure April, I said, "Imagine this finger as Brittany and this finger as me. What does "moving forward" mean?" I continued my illustration by moving "me" forward, while "Brittany" stayed put. I had left her behind...because she couldn't come with me. So, little stick April sprinted right back to little stick Brittany and didn't move. But the illustration doesn't end there. Little stick April is split in half...just like the real life April. It's like I'm trying to live two different lives in two different worlds: a world with just Brittany and me, and a world with Brett and Bryson...and no earthly Brittany. It's quite the paradoxical headache. 

Yes, I've heard them all. "You're not leaving Brittany behind. You'll carry her memories with you forever." "Brittany wouldn't want you to suffer like this. She'd want you to be happy." "You're not being fair to your husband and son." Frankly, I find that particular one quite judgmental. 

How long will I continue to just exist? Will I ever truly live again? I don't think so...at least not in the way the word live is broadly defined. The personality of the "old April" will never emerge again. She died. And that's irrevocable. Like my daughter's death. But a "new April?" Well, she's a work in progress.


Maybe I'm not traveling at warp speed in my quest to move forward. But I am moving...at my pace. Maybe I am emotionally straddling two worlds right now, desperately trying to bridge them together...but I am trying. Will I succeed? I guess only time will tell. But I believe with all my heart God will help me get there...when I'm ready. I may take a step or two forward, only to fall flat on my bottom, but God will always be there to pull me back up, gently hold my hand, and patiently say, "Let's try again."


In the meantime, I suppose I will continue to be the poster child for the elusive dichotomy between living and existing...until God, by His grace and mercy, makes me the official spokesperson for survival and redemption.

I love you Brittany Erin...timelessly <3

The Unmastered Maze

" I once read a sentence 'I lay awake all night with a toothache thinking about the toothache and lying awake.' That's true to life. Part of every misery is, so to speak, the misery's shadow or reflection; the fact that you don't merely suffer but have to keep on thinking about the fact that you suffer. I not only live each endless day in grief, but live each day thinking about living each day in grief."

-C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed

I love C.S. Lewis. I was very familiar with his work well before Brittany's death. You might be, too. Perhaps The Chronicles of Narnia might ring a bell. But I study him much more often now and at a much deeper level. And, considering the man was once an atheist...well, it just makes his thoughts and insights that much more profound. Upon changing his views and accepting Christ as his Savior, he became one of the most renowned Christian authors of his time...and ours. When I ran across this quote recently, I realized it couldn't describe me any better. At first, it may appear to be nothing but a labyrinth of rhetoric that some may find too tedious to break down. But that's what grief is...my grief, anyway: a labyrinth of emotions. It isn't a map that's strategically planned out by the mind to help us find the proverbial "light at the end of the tunnel" once we've mastered the maze...because the maze is never truly mastered. Grief is like that, though...full of twisted paradoxes. Even after 33 months of my life without Brittany, I'm still searching for a way out. But as I write this, I'm wondering if I'm chasing my tail, looking for something that isn't ready to be found yet: The final exit from my maze of misery.

For the longest time after Brittany died, I purposely avoided the news...both print and television, because I didn't want to know when other children died...especially in such senseless manners...like car accidents...like Brittany's. I didn't want to think about other parents being unwillingly and blindly cast into this labyrinth of grief. The darkness. The emptiness. The hopelessness. I knew exactly what was in store for them and it made me physically ill. It still does. All the decisions and preparations that have to made when you can't even remember your own name. Trying to reconcile yourself with the impossibly irreconcilable...saying your last earthly goodbye to your son or daughter. No parent should have to endure that kind of cruelty. Ever. To this very day, I turn the other way when I drive by "final resting places." It's become an intrinsic reflex, I guess, especially when I'm passing by the ones I'm geographically familiar with. The same goes for the "places where arrangements are made." Almost 3 years later and I still can't seem to choke out the real words associated with my ridiculously verbose descriptions of those wretched places. I wonder if that will ever change? 

In my last post, I spoke of bitterness and grudge-holding, but also of letting it go...forgiveness. I made it sound so easy, didn't I? I even confessed some of my own mistakes made while raising Brittany; me, a selfish, misguided, young mother, now struggling to forgive herself for such foolish choices and wondering if those choices started some trickle down effect that ultimately caused Brittany's death. But I suppose it's all part of my personal labyrinth of grief that's constantly being altered by my erratically changing emotions and moods. Each corner I turn, there's a new hurdle, a darkened corner or blocked pathway. But then, I can turn another corner and see a small ray of light. Hope? I run full speed ahead, believing freedom from my grief is finally within reach. And then...SLAM!...another wall. And often that wall is just a mirror; a reflection of a sad girl completely unrecognizable to me...yet so familiar. Why is she so familiar...and where is the light in her eyes? Where is her hope? And what is she so desperately searching for? A secret passageway to the past? A hidden door to the Land of Do-Overs? Is she me...or am I her? Another riddle to unravel. Great.

That familiar reflection in the mirror? It's who I am now. It's the tattered and stained canvas of my life. And it's all I've left God to work with. But you know what? God has promised to take these scarred and seemingly useless scraps of my life and create a beautiful tapestry fit for a kingdom. His Kingdom. 

Which brings us full circle. 

The maze I talked about in the beginning? The maze I proffered could never be truly mastered? I still believe it can't be mastered...not this side of Heaven, at least. And only then will I truly master my maze and walk into the Light. God's Light. God's comfort. A Light that will make all things clear: My little girl's death, my grief, my mistakes. Because as a wise pastor and dear friend recently told me (Pastor Doug Meyer of Salem Lutheran Church): Life is like a parade. We can only see what's passing by us at that particular moment, whereas God sees the whole thing from beginning to end. And someday we will, too. And it will all make sense. 

I plan on watching that parade with my beautiful Brittany, standing hand in hand with Jesus, as I finally see how even the most tattered and stained pieces of person's life...my life...can be crafted into a beautiful tapestry. 


"I will lead the blind by the ways they have not known, along unfamiliar paths I will guide them; I will turn the darkness into light before them and make the rough places smooth. These are the things I will do; I will not forsake them." 

Isaiah 42:16

I love you Brittany...timelessly <3

   

Forgiveness

"It’ll clear the bitterness away

It can even set a prisoner free

There is no end to what its power can do

So, let it go and be amazed

By what you see through eyes of grace

The prisoner that it really frees is you."

From the song "Forgiveness" by Matthew West

I've been thinking a lot lately about forgiveness. For months I have been coming across quotes and songs on the subject. It seems no matter where I turn, there it is: Forgiveness. I joked around with a few people about how I thought God was trying to get my attention; but it wasn't until I was sitting in church recently when I was blindsided by the subject. I felt like I was the only one in the sanctuary with a spotlight focusing on me the entire time. "April Schuette...I'm talking to you." A "God thing" is what I call it. His way of telling me to write, because I find it extremely challenging to do so if I don't feel the presence of God in my words. That's why I've been so silent lately. I've been brooding...consumed by the challenging concept of such a simple word...forgiveness. I don't know about you, but I've struggled my entire life trying to choke out those three little words: I forgive you. 

So why now? Why add yet another log to the emotional and mental fiery hell that burns inside my very being? Hope. It's the hope of finally letting it go (if that's even humanly possible). You see, I don't subscribe to the abstract theory of "forgive and forget." Only one person is able to do that: God. Yes, we may tell someone we forgive them, but of course we never forget. At least not me. I'm a grudge holder. The "I remember exactly what you said and/or did to me, on what day, in what year, and what you were wearing" kind of grudge holder. It's not something I'm proud of and it's something I've worked very hard to overcome, and continue to do so, because there are still a few circumstances and individuals I need to set free from the bondage of my internal prison. But you want to know the one person who's really rotting away in that cell? Me. Alone. In solitary confinement. Why? Because over the years I have let them imprison me! I have given them the power to poison my life with anger and bitterness. What's even worse, though...and I'm so ashamed to admit this...there was a time in my life when I even plotted and played out various scenarios of revenge in my malcontent mind. That being said, parenthetically I would like to assure you that I spar with words, lest you draw the wrong conclusion and think I go around clocking people who make me mad. 

Right now, I'm struggling to forgive a few people who, I'm quite sure, don't even know the harm their words or actions have caused. They're not suffering. I am. It isn't their insides that are being corroded by anger and bitterness. Mine are. They're not the ones who brood and obsess or lose countless hours of sleep over something they probably have no clue about in the first place...and that's absolutely maddening, isn't it? In my mind, they should be suffering...not me. I'm the wronged party here (in my completely skewed opinion, anyway). I mean, how do I forgive the person who said to me the very day after my daughter died that, while we may have "resembled" each other, Brittany was "put together better than me?" (i.e. She's much prettier than I am). Very true...but still...ouch. And how do I forgive the person who said to me just weeks after my little girl died that I needed to get over it and move on? How do I forgive the person who told me that, had I indeed made other life choices, perhaps Brittany would still be alive today? What about family members and friends who have deserted me because they think the statute of limitations on grieving has passed? But the one I struggle with the most... the one that troubles me beyond any earthly explanation...is finding the strength and willingness to forgive the person who all but disowned Brittany, barely acknowledging her existence, while I spent years wiping away her countless tears of confusion and hurt, feeling so helpless because it was a wound a bandaid and a kiss couldn't fix. Brittany's pain was my pain. Literally. I felt every ounce of it. Releasing that deep seeded animosity is going to take some major intervention on God's end and a willing spirit to let it go on mine. But I refuse to spend the rest of my life consumed by something I'll never be able to change. I'd rather spend that time wrapped in the arms of the thousands of memories I have of Brittany and the love and friendship we shared.  


Unfortunately, it doesn't end there. 

Another major stumbling block on my road to forgiveness is my inability...or maybe just my unwillingness...to forgive the one person whose been sentenced to life in my mental prison of anguish. Myself. I mean, letting go of whatever wrongs I feel others have inflicted upon me is hard enough, in and of itself; but forgiving myself for a lifetime of wrongs I have inflicted upon others? That's no small feat. It isn't simply mind over matter, because if that's the case, my "matter" is a lot more formidable than my "mind". 

I made so many mistakes with Brittany, especially when I was young and single. I didn't realize it at the time, but she was an innocent victim of the train wreck my life had become and the destruction I left in its wake. I was my own conductor on that doomed train of life and she had no choice but to climb aboard, neither one of us knowing where it would lead. And you want to know something ironic about that entire ride? I used to call it my "Misguided Quest for Happiness." I even kicked around the grandiose notion of writing a book about it someday, because trust me when I say, I have plenty of misguided quests to write an entire novel. The most heartbreaking part of all, though, is I had no clue that my snarky, offhanded quip of being on a misguided quest for happiness would someday lead to my current quest...the quest for finding a new normal...without my little girl. And that's anything but happy. 

After suffering the death of Brittany, I tortured myself with all the "what ifs." What if I had made this choice instead of that one? What if I hadn't moved her around so much? The list is endless. But the biggest "what if" of all: did she forgive me? Am I to blame for her accident simply because I was young and selfish during her formative years and made stupid decisions? Everyone I've cried to about this has said, "Of course she forgave you. Look at how tightly bound you were to one another. You were her best friend and she trusted you with her deepest secrets." And you know what? I've finally come to believe it's true. (That's a huge breakthrough for me, by the way). Brittany and I were so in sync with one another and had such an odd and rare connection. We were inseparable, even when we weren't living together. Even now, I can still feel it, because that kind of bond can never be severed...not even by death. More importantly though, it could never have been forged in the first place without forgiveness...and unconditional love.  

I truly wish that we, like God, could forget when we feel wronged by others. But more than that, I wish we were able to forget our own transgressions instead of letting them hold us captive to a past we regret. But what about this? Maybe God didn't give us the ability to forget because He wants us to remember for the sake of our salvation. He doesn't want us to remember so we can continue to punish ourselves and/or others. He doesn't want us to remember so we stay trapped in the past with no hope for the future. I think He wants us to use our mistakes as a compass to find our way back to Him. How can we possibly move forward if we're constantly looking behind us? He wants to set us free. He wants to set me free. So...as challenging as it will be, I'm going to try my hardest to let God set me free from my past. What's done is done...and as much as I may desperately want to, I can't change the past. What I can change is my future. 

Will I ever truly forget? Of course not. I'm human...and if I were to deliberately allow myself to dwell on the past...on the people who have hurt me or my daughter...dwell on my own transgressions...I risk being consumed by anger, bitterness and remorse all over again. Once more, I would be forfeiting the power of my own self worth...and that, my dear friends, is simply unacceptable. Forgiving someone doesn't mean you have to let that person back into your life. It doesn't mean subjecting yourself to more pain and sorrow. It's about you and your spiritual well being. It's about trusting God and having faith in the power of His healing. 

As for all the people I've hurt in my life? Well, I may never receive their forgiveness, but I'm counting on God to cover those sins, too, and forgive me anyway...even if they don't...because in the end, when my life is over, it's only God's forgiveness that matters. 

Yes, my beautiful Brittany died. She was a cloned version of me in so many, many ways. Yet, despite all of our uncanny likenesses, the one thing I didn't pass on to her is my proclivity to hold grudges. She wasn't like that. And I don't want to be, either. Not anymore. I want to make my little girl proud. And I will.

Just remember...when you let bitterness and hate fester inside your soul, you become its incubator...and soon it will begin to thrive and poison you. Then, before you know it, years will have passed by and you'll realize the only person who truly suffered was you. Don't let it. Life is much too precious and far too short. Trust me. 

Right now, God is holding the key to my prison cell of bitterness and regret. He has yours, too. All we have to do is accept it...along with His forgiveness.  

"...as far as the east is from the west, so far has He removed our transgressions from us."

Psalm 103:12

Should we not do the same?