..I couldn't pray all the words of the Breakthrough Prayer last night; how can I say God loves us, when my wife is still in agony- still after 18 years- and how her life is reduced to nothing ?
How can I pray for strength as a carer, when I don't want to be one - have never wanted to be one and cannot bear to contemplate this being my life forever ?
It took me to near midnight to read the prayer, through gritted teeth.
I read once that if Christians really believed what they preach, that they would most likely be far too worn-out, exhausted , to do much more than stagger into church on their dirt-encrusted , ragged hands and knees and utter more than a few words.
I am very, very tired. There is so much I want to do, so frustratingly little that I can achieve in reality. Everything I do is done at huge cost to my wife, whose suffering is immense; to myself, who is trying to cope, not least with my self and to our relationship. You tread such a fine line between coping and falling apart ; when you try to live your marriage within the context of Chronic Illness.
So I'm angry with God or not making my wife better. I 'm angry with the rapidly drive-you- insane orthodoxy that denies my wife any treatment, that denies that ME is a real disease; that leaves us in such a hopeless position, that is so actively and aggressively touting its poison these days; to friends !
More than that, worse of all, I am angry with myself for not being a far better carer, better advocate, better campaigner, fighter, husband.
It's only at times like this that I understand , in my guts, what prayer really is; just as a drowning man understands what air is or a thirsty man, water. It's life.
And deep down I know I have never prayed the Breakthrough Prayer as powerfully, as last night. This is how I survive.