Job & I

“Oh my goodness. You must feel like Job.”

This sentence was uttered by a nice woman in the boot camp class I was trying out. We’d talked a few times before but today’s class had found us next to each other as we made the circuit. Soon talk turned to kids. Aren’t they the great conversation starter? I was upbeat talking about my full nest and my little blessings. Her’s were older. There came a point when something came up and it needed to be said—my husband had died in September. I was managing all of this thanks to amazing friends.

She was shocked. She, of course, asked what happened. Heart attack, very sudden, but God is taking care of us, came my reply. Then she uttered the comment with a shake of her head, “Oh my goodness. You must feel like Job.” Before I could reply the instructor was talking and we moved on. I had to duck out of class early to get home to the kids and errands. I never got to answer her statement, but as I drove, her words echoed in my mind.

Job, huh? This Bible hero means a lot of things to many people—suffering, questioning God, poor friends and advisers, God’s absence or presence in our trials, and so on. All of these things are included in this story. But one of my favorite Bible verses comes from Job 13:15a: “Though He slay me, yet will I trust in Him….”

Oh that I could be compared to Job! Oh that my faith would be so rock-solid in the God worthy of my trust. Through the pain and the trials, oh that I could cling confidently to the truth that no matter what happens, He is still trustworthy!

A friend once told me she wrestled with this verse. God will not slay us so Job seems to be off the mark here, she thought. But I see it as Job popping a gasket, losing his temper, and finally blowing up at the nay-sayers in his life who do not see where his faith was anchored. I see it as him telling them that no matter what circumstances appear to be, he will stand firm in his faith.

Oh that I would be like Job! Oh that no matter how much this journey has hurt or how long it seems to be, oh that I would keep coming back to the truth that I trust Jesus! I trust the God who sees a big picture that I cannot see. I trust Him for my provision. I trust Him for my children’s wounded hearts. I trust Him when bad news arrives in the mailbox. I trust Him for wisdom in the next steps even when fear makes me take my eyes off that truth. I can always come back to the truth that He is trustworthy. He is faithful. He is good.

Job even did what some cannot grasp is OK – he questioned God. When he finally had more than he felt he could take, he pitched a fit and railed against the unfairness of it all. His shouts at the heavens reached God and God answered. The reply makes me laugh. God put Job right in his place. “Who is this who darkens my counsel with words without knowledge? Brace yourself like a man; I will question you and you shall answer me.” Job 38:2-3

God goes on to describe just how worthy He is to figure out what’s good, just, and fair and just how small Job is. And after listening to God’s response, Job is appropriately set back on the right path. He repents, humbled, and returns to the faith he always knew to be true.

A friend told me long ago that God can take our anger. He can take it when we tell him how unfair this is and how upset we are things aren’t going like we thought they should. As a mom, I now imagine one of my kids as toddlers throwing a fit when I say no. It’s almost amusing. No matter how frustrating the fit might be (or embarrassing in the middle of the mall) it doesn’t change that I love them. I will take the time to discipline them and help them learn better.

God loves me. He will strengthen me and walk with me even if I pitch a fit like a tired toddler. He isn’t going anywhere. He is faithful.

Oh that I will stand through this trial confident in the fact that He loves me. He wants the best for me. Even when I cannot see what the final outcome is going to be, I can trust him absolutely. The story of Job even has a happy ending in chapter 42, verse 12: “The Lord blessed the latter part of Job’s life more than the first.” There is promise that our faithful trust in God leads to good things—either in this life or in heaven.

Oh, to be like Job.

A Good Memorial Day

Today was a good day. It could have been terrible or sad or both. Today is a day people think of fallen veterans and departed family and visit grave sides. We went hiking instead.

We visited the Badlands. It was a place we’ve loved to take the kids for years but oddly enough last year we never made it out there. I think that helped it be a good choice for today. There were no fresh memories with Dad here. Lucy didn’t even really remember this place. To her it was a vague memory enhanced by a visit to a photo album.

Today I tried to do things differently. We didn’t stay long at the visitor’s center. We chose different places to picnic and hike at the start of the day. I passed up places we “always” went. Today was a day for new adventures with a touch of the familiar.

We were treated with several firsts today—a gift from God perhaps to help today be a new experience?

We fed prairie dogs right out the window of the van! That’s never happened before. The kids crammed out the windows to toss grapes and lettuce and at least pretend we were trying to feed them things the game wardens would approve of. I kept glancing on the horizon for any official vehicles arriving to make us stop while the giggles and requests for the camera kept coming. One little prairie dog even sang for his supper. Either that or he was yelling, “Hey! I want a piece of that action!”

We saw mountain goats on the ridges as we came to stopped traffic around a bend. We don’t remember ever seeing them this close before. Kati even saw a mom with a baby.

As we arrived in the last portion of the park to get out and hike, we were greeted with the most breathtakingly beautiful views I think we’ve ever gotten here. It was certainly the most green and lush we’ve ever seen the Badlands. A winter with record snowfall and wet days in the past weeks have been rewarded with bursting green growth and astounding contrast in the hills of yellows and reds bursting forth where normally a sea of tans awaits. It was phenomenal.

I watched as my own little mountain goats romped and climbed higher and higher until I had to shout out for them to return. A storm was moving in on the horizon and I wasn’t sure I wanted them perched precariously on a precipice with thunder rolling softly in the distance.

Today was a good day.

At dinner I decided I should tell them how some people who’ve lost a loved one celebrate today. They agreed this was better. Dad would have liked this better. Still grief snuck up on one of my children at bedtime. Ryan, because of his autism, keeps looping back to the night his father died and wrestling with his shock, anger, hurt, and so on. Today reminded him of Dad’s absence. But at least it didn’t hit him until the quiet of bedtime.

On another day I will ask one more time if they want to help me scatter Kraig’s ashes or just want me to take care of it. It’s time. It’s past time. On another day we will go pick out rocks to have engraved as monuments for Dad to keep in our garden. I’ve decided this is a more personal tribute than a cold cemetery they will never want to visit. Those things can wait for another day.

Today we laughed. We hiked. We climbed until Mom either couldn’t keep up or demanded for safety-sake they come back to earth. We fed prairie dogs and played “what do you see in that cloud” on a long drive.

Today was a good day.



 

Grief is Sneaky but God is Good

Grief is sneaky. As time creates distance from the loss, life returns to normal. Days dawn bright and clear and normal things like chores and watching movies make a Sunday seem blissfully uneventful. And then grief sneaks up in the most unexpected of ways, raw and emotional and cruel.

Today the catalyst was my daughter playing with a friend named Rachel. I was feeling thankful because Rachel’s father was installing a new exhaust fan in the basement bathroom. It was a project Kraig hadn’t finished before he died. Jeremy was giving up a Sunday afternoon to take care of this for me at no charge.

I heard the girls outside arguing so I opened the screen door to ask what was going on. That’s when Lucy explained the problem. They were playing Little Mermaid and Rachel was mad because Lucy wanted to change things. Lucy matter-of-factly explained she wanted to pretend that Ariel’s father had died instead of her mother.

It took my breath away.

I know that children play as therapy. Whether it is dealing with trauma or dealing with stress, play is how they cope. My youngest daughter seemed to have moved past most of her grieving. I think that’s why this hit me so unexpectedly.

I walked away fighting tears, trying to figure out if I should stop her, and trying to catch my breath. I felt like the wind had been knocked out of me. Before I could form a plan of action, the girls had worked it out and moved on. Children are so resilient.

My day suddenly seemed to be quieter, more contemplative. I texted some of my support circle and Rachel’s mom, in case it came up at home later. That helped. I fought the tears off and continued to prep dinner, but a knot settled in my chest, tight and heavy.

As I sat down to write this out and process (which is how I cope), I heard the most wonderful sound. It was the laughter of Jarod and Kati. They were having ridiculous fun playing Minecraft together on our iPads. I heard the laughter and them shouting out randomness like:

“Pig-ina, noooo!”

“The lifeboat sprung a leak! Oh the humanity!”

“Rose, I’ll sacrifice myself for you!”

Ryan walked in and asked Jarod what they were doing. The answer: recreating Titanic with the animals in the Minecraft world. Ridiculous. A tad disturbing. But oh so wonderful to hear.

Grief sucker punched me today but not them. Their dad would have found this Sunday afternoon computer play creative and hilarious. He would have laughed so I smiled. Outside I could hear Lucy playing and singing with Barbies. Ryan sat at the table building a rocket.

I’d love to say that grief and sorrow vanished in an instant at the sound of children happily enjoying a spring afternoon. It didn’t. The knot in my chest remained but it did loosen. And as dinner finished in the oven, a scripture was whispered into my knotted heart. It was from 1 Corinthians 4:7-8: “But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair….” (emphasis mine)

I don’t despair because of the all-surpassing power of God that is sustaining me. I have been hard pressed but not crushed, perplexed but I do not despair. I serve a God who is trustworthy. When grief sucker punches me I can return to the trust that He knows what He’s doing. He will help me continue to put one step in front of the other. Grief is sneaky, but God is good.