Tag: grief

Why ask why?

We’re taught not to question the Almighty. To accept. To bow our heads. To trust without trembling.

But if He knows my heart… if He knows my thoughts before they ever form on my tongue… doesn’t He already know my questions too?

I find it impossible, as a human wrapped in human emotions, not to ask why when bad things happen to good people. And yes, I understand that “good” can be debated. None of us are perfect. But I’m talking about the ones who live gently. The ones who work hard, tend to their families, mind their business, show up for others, try to leave rooms softer than they found them. The ones who do inherently good simply because it’s in them to do so.

Why must the good suffer?

Why cancer? Why the slow violence of chemotherapy, a treatment that often feels more offensive and destructive than the very disease it’s meant to eradicate? Why the indignity of fatigue that steals your strength, the nausea that robs you of appetite, the hair that falls in quiet surrender? Why must the body endure a war on two fronts?

It is a particular kind of helplessness to watch someone you love suffer. To stand beside hospital beds and infusion chairs with nothing but prayers and presence. To offer words that feel small against the weight of a diagnosis. “I’m here.” “I love you.” “We’re believing.” And sometimes those words feel like feathers trying to hold back a storm.

Yet time after time, that is what we do. We pray. We support. We show up. Because we believe prayer changes things. Because even when I question the why behind it all, one thing I never question is my ability to trust fully in the Almighty. I do not understand His timing. I do not understand His methods. But I trust His heart. And I believe in Him for full healing for those I love who are afflicted.

Right now, that someone is my sister.

She fought one hell of a battle against triple negative breast cancer. She endured it. Conquered it. Had a clear scan this past November. We exhaled. We praised. We dared to imagine the worst was behind us.

Only for that sneaky, sick disease to circle back and attack her lung and liver.

And here we are again.

We’re already claiming victory. We’re already speaking healing. But we are also human, and it’s exhausting to have to suit up for war twice. It’s disheartening to realize the fight isn’t finished. It’s frustrating to see someone so strong forced back into the ring.

Make no mistake, she is one hell of a fighter. Resilient. Determined. Courageous in ways that humble me. I just wish she didn’t have to be. I wish her strength could be used for joy instead of survival. But like people in hell want ice water, we deal with the hand we’re dealt. We don’t get to choose the battlefield, only how we stand on it.

So we stand again.

We question, yes.

We grieve, yes.

But we also believe.

If you believe in God and the power of prayer, send some healing her way. Speak life over her lungs. Speak restoration over her liver. Speak strength into her bones and peace into her mind.

It’s time to get back in the ring.

And we’re believing this time, too, cancer is getting knocked out.~micaiah 

The Unfinished Business of July 4th

As we approach July 4th, it’s crucial to acknowledge that this day resonates differently for many. For people of color, the celebration of American independence can be a poignant reminder of a time when the freedoms declared in 1776 were not extended to all. Our nation’s history is undeniably complex, and the ongoing journey toward true equality and freedom feels particularly precarious under the current political climate.

While the ideals of liberty and justice remain worthy aspirations, this day also serves as a vital opportunity to recognize the profound struggles and invaluable contributions of those historically excluded from the original promise of freedom. Especially now, as we witness so many having their civil liberties eroded in the name of a narrow and manipulated definition of democracy, this reflection becomes even more urgent.

Given the current state of the world—the threats to civil liberties, basic human rights, and fundamental human decency—we must confront the difficult question of whether America can truly still be called the “land of the free.” The establishment of concentration camps under the guise of “detention centers” in severe and inhumane conditions and the relentless push towards homogeneity challenge the very notion of a diverse and inclusive society. It increasingly appears that genuine liberty and justice are reserved for a privileged few, and freedom remains profoundly incomplete if it does not encompass the ability for all to live with dignity and respect.

Despite these sobering realities, we must not give up hope. Many of us will persevere, choosing to use this day as a time to forge connections with friends and family, to find moments of joy, and to create our own traditions and memories. This act of coming together, of finding light amidst the shadows, is in itself an act of resilience.

Let’s harness this day not just for celebration, but for deep reflection on our history, for a courageous embrace of our collective shortcomings, and, most importantly, for a renewed commitment to working tirelessly toward a future where freedom and equality are, without exception, truly for everyone. Our continued dedication to these ideals is what will ultimately ensure that humanity and human decency prevail.~micaiah

Fighting to Matter

To be black and live in America is to live through trauma.

Black lives do not matter. Animals and walls get more respect and consideration than black people do.

People are murdered in their homes and yet they are made to be villains.
Even in their deaths the world tries hard to turn the tables so even sympathy is not given.

Oppression makes a wise man mad. And continually perpetuating trauma makes a person numb.

But
life goes on and we keep pushing because our souls weren’t created to quit.

Some of us march, some pray, others protests, rebel and raise holy hell and no one can say any of them are wrong.

Because collectively we are grieving and enraged all at the same time; we have lost so many and each death effected us, even if only subconsciously.

Every death by the hands of the police has you questioning your safety during what should be a routine traffic stop.

Have you reconsidering mentioning the police as someone a child can turn to and be safe with in times of trouble.

Parents have had to change the narrative of their coming of age stories especially with their black male children to include how to live through an interaction with the police.

It’s crazy to have to explain that typically black people are seen as guilty until proven innocent and even then they are sometimes still punished.

Society might have removed the chains, but they’ve held fast to the cruelties and tenets of slavery.

Yet somehow we still make strides and make moves because our souls weren’t created to quit.

With tear stained faces and red rimmed eyes we still stand tall with our fists held high.

Burdened by the struggle to be recognized as human, worthy of life, deserving of justice.
Fighting to matter.
~micaiah

Hil

never can say good bye
even after a year it still seems foreign to try
I remember being awakened from my sleep
to cries that you were now resting in peace
for a second I lost touch with reality
Could this really be true
but I soon gained more proof
the world had truly lost you
it’s hard living life with no more talks
no more shared books read
or inside jokes
I just knew we’d grow to be old folks
You were my sister, my friend and a spiritual sharpener
when your soul left
time seemed to stand still
it felt surreal
I was bereft
left fumbling to rationalize within my mind,
to accept this loss as a truth
There are days I’m great
and there’s days when simply I’m not
I know life is for living so I keep pushing I dare not stop
There is so much more I needed to share
so much more wisdom and encouragement I needed to hear
You were a sister-friend so near and dear to my heart.
I carry your memories forever with me may they never depart.
~micaiah

Continue to rest in power Sis💙
Hilakiyah Yisrael 3/10/70-5/5/2019

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