9 Months

Yesterday marked 9 months since Mom and Dad were killed.  It weighed on me all day.  I could not sleep at all last night.  My stomach churned and I was physically ill throughout the night.  I thought I had food poisoning.  In talking to a veteran who suffers from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder he thought perhaps I was suffering from that, too.

Maybe he's right.  All of us who were close to Mom and Dad have endured a very traumatic event.  What I do know for sure is that I kept thinking, "It's been 9 months.  I could have birthed a baby in 9 months but still we do not seem to be any closer to having any closure to this.  No arrests.  No justice."  I do not understand why it is taking so long.

In choir tonight as we were singing "I Will Not Be Shaken" it struck me that it does not matter if if an arrest is never made.  I will continue to trust God and know that He is in complete control.  His justice is just.  He knows who killed them and they will not be able to escape His judgement. 


Psalm 18:1-3 (The Message)

I love you, God— you make me strong.
   God is bedrock under my feet,
      the castle in which I live,
      my rescuing knight.
   My God—the high crag
      where I run for dear life,
      hiding behind the boulders,
      safe in the granite hideout.
I sing to God, the Praise-Lofty,
      and find myself safe and saved.