Dear Mr Devil

Dear Mr Devil,

I thought I'd write you a letter to make one thing clear.  You have not won.

I've written this letter in my mind so many times but I was so angry that all I wanted to do was shout and swear at you.  But I'm not going to sink to your level.  I will not let you win.

You knew that our eldest daughter is so precious and that she has a strong faith in your enemy, Jesus.  And you knew that her illness would raise so many difficult questions.  Why does Jesus allow her to be ill? Why doesn't he make her better? If he is such a loving God then why is he allowing such a bad thing to happen to a good girl?  You knew that it would break my heart to look at my beautiful girl and know that her carefree days were behind her.

But here's the thing.  You aren't Jesus.  So you don't know what it is to love.  You aren't God the Father.  So you don't know what it feels like to see your children suffer because the world is a broken place.  You aren't the Holy Spirit.  So you don't know how to impart the power of God on someone.  If I'm going to put my trust in someone, then I'm going to trust someone who knows love, compassion and encouragement.

I know what you do.  You break people and then you twist the blame on to God.  I cannot listen to someone who chooses to do that.  I will not believe your lies.

You want me to see illness and a broken body.  I see miracles and a determined soul.  I know how dangerously high her blood sugar was.  I also know that it is a miracle that her kidneys are not damaged and that she was not suffering from complications or arriving at hospital in a coma.  I know that the fear I felt was not from God.  It was from you.  And what did I do? I prayed for her and asked as many people as possible to do the same.  I approached the loving God I know for help and he answered our prayers.

I know how she didn't want to play for the first couple of days at home and how sad she looked.  I know how fearful she was of her bedtime injection.  I also know how she conquered that sadness and fear.  I know that she was so determined to live a normal life that she carried on and was awarded a swimming badge.  I know that she conquered her fear of her bedtime injection so that she can go to Brownie Pack Holiday.  I know that her smile is just as beautiful and radiant now as it was before her diagnosis.

I understand that we suffer because we live in a broken world.  I don't like it.  No one does.  But it's not God's fault.  I know many people won't get that.  It's hope of eternal life in heaven that balances out the rubbish of this world.

In the meantime, I know that God can cope with my questions and my emotions.  I know that it's OK to grieve for my daughter's health and to express all of the emotions that I feel whilst grieving when I pray.  God's shoulders are broad enough to take it and he does not have a problem with honesty.

You have a problem with honesty.  And that's why I had to write this letter.  I had to be honest.

Yes, I hurt, but you have not won.  I choose God.  I choose truth.  I choose life.

So my daughter's body needs a bit of external help.  I like to think of it as a few modifications rather than an illness.  A helping hand to function in a way that her body can't manage for herself any more.

I don't know where this leaves you.  I will not fear you - you may seem powerful but you do not have the power of God.

I do know where it leaves me - with my faith intact and with a deeper level of trust between me and my daughter.

I guess you have some thinking to do.

Yours,

The Curate's Wife