I’m Not Mad At God, I’m Just Kind of Mad


I’m not mad in the “crazy furious, angry” kind of way.

I’m not mad in the “out of my mind, insane, lunatic” kind of way. (at least not most days)

I’m really mad in the “this is not what I had planned, I feel gypped, this is not fair, scream at the sky” kind of way.

It’s not directed at God, this anger of mine.

It’s just there.

Mingled with overwhelming sadness like a casserole of emotions and everything is touching.

I can’t always separate sad from mad.

I wanted to see him walk.

I wanted to hear him talk.

I wanted to celebrate when he outgrew his need for a trach.

I wanted to see him get on the school bus. (ok, not really!)

I wanted to watch him kick a soccer  ball.

I wanted to see him make friends.

I wanted to watch him put his arm around a little girl and give her a kiss.

I wanted to take him to Target.

I wanted to go swimming with him.

I wanted to go to his first school program.

I wanted to take him to see his first movie.

I wanted to chase him in the back yard and hear him laugh.

I wanted to watch him go on a date.

I wanted to see him get a job.

I wanted to see him do so many, many things. 

I wanted to see him experience so many, many things.

I feel really mad.


We fought so hard just to live.

And we did.

So when I get mad. When I feel unbelievably sad.

Or when I feel like that emotional casserole is just freaking dumped on my head

I remember.

I got to read him so many books.

I got to watch him learn to crawl.

At one of his sickest moments, he woke up from death and signed “Momma”.

I got to teach him how to sit on a bike and work on pushing his feet.

I got watch him cruise around the kitchen in a walker.

I got to push him in the swing at the playground.

I got to take him on his first vacation.

I got to lay on a blanket with him at the park.

I got to give him his first bottle. 

I got to give him baths and put lotion on his sweet little body. 

I got to feel him touch my face. 

I got to watch him belly laugh over the silliest things. 

I got to celebrate four Christmases with him.

I got to throw him three birthday parties.

I got to put icing on his tongue. 

I got to see every silly face he made.

I got to watch him learn to clap his hands.

I got to be his mom for 1402 days.

And that is good. Very good.

But I’m still very sad.

And I’m still very mad.







5 thoughts on “I’m Not Mad At God, I’m Just Kind of Mad

  1. I’ve been feeling that way a lot lately. After 10 years of struggling we finally got pregnant, only for things to go horribly wrong. Our daughter is almost five now and still requires all the care of a baby. When we tried to adopt the birth mother changed her mind after the first week of us holding that baby and falling in love with him… and after all the money was gone. After that we went back to the doctor to try again but it’s so expensive it’s draining everything. I’ve been just so mad. So angry. So bitter. Why? I am so disappointed in my journey as a mother. I’m so tired. I get it. I do. Sometimes you’re just mad. And that’s okay.

  2. Tracie – I don’t personally know you, but I feel as though I do through your FB posts, your blogs & through Bruce & Kim Thompson (family). What a wonderfully expressive way to share your feelings. I have similar mad/sad feelings but from very different circumstances. 5 years ago this last August, God called my loving my wife, my best friend, my soulmate home. It was totally unexpected & sudden following complications from “routine surgery”. The decision to allow her to slip into God’s open & loving arms fell on me. To this day I still have mad/sad days. We had just entered retirement…”our golden years”…and had so many plans, so I too think of the “I wanted to” and I get angry. Like you not at God, but just angry. Then the Holy Spirit whispers in my ear – “Hey wait a minute, don’t forget the “but I got to” and my heart fills with warm, loving memories. Thank you for sharing your thoughts, your hurts, your joys about your precious Mattie. Thank you for allowing me to share mine about my precious Lyn.

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