This world doesn’t make sense.
And sometimes I’m just overcome with heartache from the knowledge of it all.
That there is so much suffering, loss, violence, and sorrow. And that none of it can be explained.
That there are women who long for a baby, but can’t have one. That there are those with empty wombs who at all times are surrounded by those whose wombs are so obviously full.
That there are mothers whose motherhood experience has consisted only of saying goodbye to a baby so desperately loved. That some mothers have watched their child die while at the same time witnessing the life and growth of so many other children.
That there are mothers who know what it’s like to lose a child to cancer or drugs or violence. While so many of us seem to enjoy our children in a bubble of safety and well-being, mostly oblivious to the world beyond.
That there are mothers who die because of cancer or drugs or violence. Or any other number of atrocities. And that their children are left behind to navigate the aftermath without the one who gave birth to them. While so many of us have the privilege of watching our mothers become grandmothers.
That there are children born into extreme poverty. That their mothers struggle to care for them, and maybe even fail to do so, due to an utmost lack of resources. That some truly don’t have the opportunity to escape their impoverished circumstances, while so many others have never experienced scarcity in any form.
That the backdrop to some children’s lives is war. Bombs. Gunshots. Explosions. That some mothers live with constant fear of their children being killed. That many of them helplessly watch as that backdrop slips into the forefront of their lives. While so many others wake and breathe and sleep to laughter and silence, the sounds of safety.
That children are abused, abandoned, abducted. That mothers are sometimes responsible for it. That children suffer at the hands of the one who carried them in her womb, while so many “good people” don’t get to have a child.
That children suffer at all. That mothers suffer at all. That anyone suffers at all. That the undeserving experience such horror. That the deserving seem to move forward unscathed.
None of it makes sense.
It’s all beyond comprehension. And what’s more is these things barely scratch the surface of all that doesn’t make sense in this world.
But you know what else doesn’t make sense?
That even the deepest and darkest pain won’t last forever. That we are not bound to the confusion that surrounds us. That the weight of this world won’t always burden us. That even in hopeless circumstances, we have hope because of God’s love. It doesn’t make sense that an innocent man died for the broken people of this broken world. That suffering and death here on this earth isn’t the end. That intense sorrow will one day turn to joy. That horror and injustice will no longer exist.
It doesn’t make sense that there is a love greater than all of the hurt.
And yet, somehow, in the midst of confusion and contradiction and misunderstanding, there is one thing that does seem to make sense. It’s that a loving God will, at some point, put an end to the suffering. To the injustice. To the pain.
The only thing that makes sense is that love conquers all else.