Asking for Answers

 This morning, I see her clearly.

The little girl who is still caught in trauma.

Still frightened.

Still waiting for the danger to pass.

For a long time, I believed that if I found the right answer, the right doctor, the right treatment, I could reach her and make everything okay.

But today, I feel helpless.

No matter what I try, she remains hidden behind fear and pain.

Sometimes I wonder if the pain feels familiar to her. If it has become a place she knows how to live. Or perhaps some wounded part of her still believes she deserves to suffer.

I don’t know.

What I do know is that I can no longer force healing.

I have tried.

I have searched.

I have done everything I know to do.

And today, I find myself turning once again to God.

Not with certainty.

Not with answers.

But with questions.

With open hands.

With tears.

“Help me see what I cannot see. Help me love what I cannot reach. Help me trust what I do not yet understand.”

For now, that is enough.

Not knowing.

Not fixing.

Just sitting quietly beside the child and waiting for grace to find us both.