Seven months ago, before we had our first miscarriage, I always pictured God carrying someone when they went through a trial. Like the poem "Footprints in the Sand," I assumed God picked up the wounded person and gently carried them until they were able to walk again.
I also assumed they felt his comfort. I assumed they knew he was there all along. They were in pain, yes, but they still felt the hands of God with them.
What I failed to realize was that even in the poem, the person wondered where God was. They questioned him and asked, "Why have you not been with me?" They didn't feel his comfort. They didn't feel his hands upon them. They didn't even think he was there.
I know it seems insignificant. You might be thinking, "So what? So what if that person didn't feel God's presence?" But to me, it's huge. For one thing, it means I'm normal. It's normal to feel abandoned by God. It doesn't make me a bad Christian. And for another thing, it means that maybe God is still here. Even when I can't feel him, even when all I see is one set of footprints in the sand, he's still here.