A dear friend of mine, Rachael, has been going through a tremendous amount of loss in this season of her life. She has, sadly, lost both her father and grandfather. I’ve watched her suffering and all I can do is offer my own brokenness to show her it’s okay to fall apart.

It’s not the same, but it’s all I can relate to her with. Here I am, aching for a life that I have not yet met, and her mourning ones that she knew so well. There’s a sense of missing, a gaping cavern inside that seems it will never heal.

Even in these dark times, I am reminded how precious life is, what a blessing it is to exist, to feel and love and lose. I don’t always feel the reality of this—in fact—my pain envelops me more than it doesn’t, but it is a truth I know.

Rachael has shown an incredible amount of strength and faith. She has clung to God; I have run from Him. She has praised him; I have cursed Him. She has loved; I have hated. How different we are in the face of trials, I’ve often thought to myself. It’s easy to see who the better Christian is here, isn’t it?

Rachael shared something that has stuck with me since her dad’s unexpected passing.

Though You slay me
Yet I will praise You
Though You take from me
I will bless Your name
Though You ruin me
Still I will worship

How incredible it is to have this kind of faith. Rachael’s faith. A faith that is not shaken, that does not turn to anger, or hate.

I do not have this faith. I want to say that I do. I want to say that I am being strong, that I’m finding hope, that I’m a Christ-like, God-loving, servant, but I have not been.

I don’t even know how to trust in God any more.

I don’t know what I am. I don’t know where I am.

I am lost.