Generosity and other stuff

This week has been a mixed bunch. On the one hand, it's been great as I've managed to get some business stuff done - like getting my business cards printed. YAY!! I've also managed to update my business website with images that don't take as long to download. I'm still fixing bugs on it though, so if you go and check it out, it may not all work brilliantly.

On the other hand though, I'm still feeling very low. At my obs-gyn appointment on Tuesday past I was told that my APS is not just a contributing factor to Zoe's death (as I was told by my UK specialist), but is in fact the direct cause. In addition, it would seem that the type of APS I have means that any clotting event is a sudden thing, rather than a gradual one. This means that Zoe would have suffered more than I thought. With a gradual clotting, her asphyxiation would have been gradual, meaning that she would have slipped into a coma gradually and painlessly, a bit like people who commit suicide using carbon monoxide poisoning. With a sudden event though, her asphyxiation would have been sudden - a bit like being strangled. Needless to say, I have found that very upsetting.

As I think I've told you before, our medical aid has refused to pay for any of my APS treatments for a year. When I saw the obs-gyn I asked her what that would cost if I paid for it myself. Wait for it - my entire monthly salary before tax!! GULP! So there is definitely no way Graeme and I can afford to fall pregnant before Oct next year. I'm gutted. I know that there are plenty of very good, logical, sensible reasons why having to wait till Oct next year is a good thing, but on an emotional level it just plain sucks. It's just so damn unfair.

We're in the process of joining a new small group from church. I'm excited about that, because it means we finally get to make some friends. Our church assigns people to groups based on a questionnaire that you complete about the sort of group you're looking for. So until this week, we had no idea who was in the group. Turns out that there's a woman in our group who recently suffered a miscarriage, also of a little girl, who was also called Zoe. Plus, it turns out that there's an old family friend of Graeme's in the group. And then, there's a guy I used to be in a band with from a previous church. What a small world!

All these individuals send us emails, filled with compassion and messages of support. That's great, except that one of them is clearly from a much more 'spiritual' background than I think I can stomach at present. While I shouldn't judge, I can't help but think that they have never suffered any deep grief. It wouldn't surprise me to learn that this individual has led a charmed life. I had to rewrite my reply several times, to avoid telling this person where they could stuff their prayers. I know that everyone has their share of trouble, and I know that this individual was just trying to be supportive, and that means the world to me right now. But I really hope I don't say something I'm going to regret when we have our first meeting! I hope I can either hold me tongue, or that this person proves to be much more grounded than their email would suggest - because if not, I think we will have to find another group, and immediately.

So that's the background noise I've been dealing with emotionally all week. Then at church this morning, the sermon was on generosity. While most people look at generosity from the perspective of what people give (money vs everything else), from a Christian perspective the bigger issue is not what you give, but how and why.

Why do we give? Because we have received so much. God has been so generous with us (by dying on the cross) that we cannot help but respond by giving.

How do we give? Hysterically (translated as 'cheerfully' in many Bible translations). i.e., we don't give out of a sense of duty, or with a grudging heart, or because it's the 'right' thing to do, but joyfully and cheerfully and abundantly.

That's the theory, at any rate.

So our minister then points out to us that true holiness is marked by tremendous generosity, because God has been (and continues to be) incredibly generous towards us, and holiness is being like God. He then flicks a prayer up on the projector, for us as a community to pray together, asking God to make us more generous with each other, as a 'deep acknowledgement' of his incredible generosity to us.

And this is the point where I break down in tears, again.

Many years ago I had this discussion with my brother, about God's grace. He, being the older and wiser Christian, pointed out to me, the younger and less wise Christian, that if the only thing God had done was die on the cross for us, none of us would have any cause to complain, because that is the most generous thing anyone could have done for us. God could have done that and then washed his hands of us and had nothing further to do with us, leaving us to deal with a world devoid of love or grace, and we would still be held accountable for living a life of holiness.

Be that as it may (and he's absolutely correct), I couldn't pray that prayer. I can't ask God to make me more generous as a response to his generosity to me. All I kept thinking was - how is letting Zoe die generous? Where is the generosity in that? I can ask God to make me more generous - no problems there - but not in response to his generosity to me. I freely acknowledge that God has been generous to me in the past. I freely acknowledge that by dying on the cross God demonstrated the ultimate generosity towards me. But, blasphemous as I know it is, that is simply not enough for me anymore. If I am to believe that God has no limits to his generosity, then I need to know where that generosity is as regards Zoe, because I just don't see how taking her from her family is generous.

(And don't try telling me that maybe there something worse ahead in her future that God spared her from, because then you will need to explain why God doesn't take all children who are born to abusive parents, or born with AIDS, or born to drug addicts so that they are already addicts themselves or suffering from Fetal Alcohol Syndrome, or those that have severe mental or physical disabilities... because there is no answer for any of that, because there is no generosity in allowing those kids to live, and there is even less generosity in taking Zoe while allowing those kids to suffer on earth. So that rubbish doesn't cut it with me anymore.)

This afternoon I've been recalling the pictures we were given in those first few days after Zoe's death, of her in Jesus' arms, and of her with Graeme's gran. Thinking about them, I know that God was being compassionate and allowing me to know that she's ok. And I am still grateful for that - knowing that does bring me a measure of peace. But knowing that does not alleviate this gaping hole in my heart, through which I seem to bleeding a lifetime's worth of faith.

I will strive to be more generous, but I have to confess that it will simply be from a humanitarian perspective - because I know that it's good for me to give, because I know that it's the right thing to do, and because I know that God would approve. But right now there is just no way I can pray that prayer.

So, as the new term begins, I'm already emotionally exhausted. I long for this grief to be over. I long for the halycon days of an easy faith that never sucked the energy right out of you. But hopefully having structure in my week, and knowing that there are only 8 weeks to go till we break up for the year, plus joining this small group, will help me get a grip on this grief. I can only hope.