Guest post by Shea Clarke
When I lost our baby daughter Olivia I locked myself away from everyone with the exception of my children. I even shut out my husband.
I felt inept to convey my feelings in spoken words, and it seemed that every time I tried to interact with anyone they would say something I know was intended as innocent and harmless, but somehow it would always come out hurtful. It stung.
So I retreated to my journals. There, I felt safe pouring out the anguish and anger and everything else I was struggling to word. One of the resulting pieces of the puzzle of my recovery was a poem I called “Darkness Descends”.
It didn’t make sense, but then it was never meant to. It was meant to be a raw, bitter heart cry that God took and held and gave back to me packaged with hope.
Darkness descends upon me.
There is no way to stop it and no light bulb bright enough to erase it.
I can feel it pulling me downward…Completely evaporating my entire being.
Every sound is out of tune…every sight out of focus.
The air is cold and harsh, yet my body is too numb to feel it.
I am like Alice spiraling out of control down the rabbit hole.
Everything spinning about and rushing past me at a hundred miles per hour…
Yet, I see myself moving in slow motion. So slow I seem distorted.
As I spin out of control, I see the faces of people I know as I pass.
They seem so close, yet when I reach out to touch them, they aren’t there.
I hear myself scream deep inside my soul. A scream only I can hear.
There is no way out…No way to stop…No one can help me.
All I can do is close my eyes tightly and hope for eternal slumber to come and end my pain.
Suddenly, I feel arms around me….arms that I cannot see.
I hear a soothing voice say, “Sshhhh, Quiet child. It’s OK.
I realize the arms and voice are that of my Lord and Father…
The darkness is lifted. The decent has stopped…
Suddenly, I am at peace.
Shea Clarke was born and raised in Los Angeles, California, and after a 10-year detour in Boston now lives in Aiken, South Carolina. Having left behind a life that had played out like a bad Lifetime movie filled with addiction, abuse, and depression, Shea has now been happily married for the past six years to her very own Prince George. She jokes that he was worth the wait after sorting through a great number of toads. Shea is Mom to Kayla (26) and Marygrace (16)–her princesses here on earth–as well as Olivia (b/d 6-23-07) and Alessia (born still 11-13-08)–her Angel Babies in Heaven. She is also Grandma to perfect little Lorelei, who doesn’t allow Autism to get in her way. A dedicated canine rescuer, Shea highly esteems all of God’s creatures and loves bringing hope to the hurting.
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I heard it said once that God is the only one who can understand the depth and breadth of our anguish. I use it a lot because it’s so true. We are blessed to have people who will walk right up to the black pit of despair and torment with us, but they can’t jump in. God can. He does.
How your words echo the heart cry of many of us who have found ourselves in the pit of despair. And much like David, as you wrestled through the agonizing pain you landed face to face with a sovereign God who drew you in as only He can. That encourages me in the deep places.