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.

Glorious Unfolding

As promised in my last blog entry (Lightening My Load), here is the blog that I almost didn't post. Praying it provides continued encouragement to others struggling to continue walking through grief.

I sit here tonight doing what I’ve done often since Kraig died. I’m listening to songs that remind me of truths I know at the core of my very being. Tonight it’s Nicole Nordeman’s version of Turn Your Eyes Upon Jesus and Steven Curtis Chapman with Glorious Unfolding. Since the day after Kraig died I’ve turned to music when I’m struggling. When I’m feeling lost I’m careful to choose ones with words solid in their declarations of God’s promises and beautiful in their poetry. I rock out to other stuff on the good days.

Tonight the thread of hope seems thinner somehow. My friend, Chelsea, today reminded me it’s OK that grief seemed to grip my heart for no reason. It snuck up on me this weekend mowing the lawn as I was hit by the vast number of dandelions populating my yard. Realization that Kraig took care of them each year dawned on me. As I started to wonder how I’d figure out what he used the sob rose in my chest as my heart protested, “But I don’t want to have to take care of this…this one more thing I must figure out.” I was glad the mower was loud and the kids couldn’t hear me sobbing as I hurried to finish the yard ahead of a storm.

Both Saturday and Sunday had some hard moments in the midst of really good stuff. I think that might be why I feel lost—nothing other than dandelions seemed to cause this. Maybe stress of trying to prepare to move played in there as well. That’s stressful under the best of circumstances. And the best of circumstances these are not.

Tonight as I struggled to make it to bedtime, I had to deal with not one but three kids coming up between 9:30 and 10. One sobbing as the reality that Dad would not be here to share in the fun we have planned this summer. One looking for the bathroom and not knowing why she was crying—probably because her brother was. One asking for prayer because scary thoughts were plaguing him as he tried to fall asleep.

“Oh weary mind, Oh troubled soul, all the broken pieces that you hold, turn them over, give them up, and then watch what Jesus does. Oh heavy heart, Oh heavy load, lay it down and let it go, leave your broken yesterday in the open arms of grace….” Nicole sings these words and I reach for them like a salve for a wound. Not once has my faith wavered but this journey is long and exhausting and just when I think I’m emerging from it, another wave crashes on my shore.

“You will walk on waves again, when you have set your gaze on him.” Promise, Nicole? Walking on the waves seems so beyond the possible right at this very moment. “So look up, look up, this is a song about the morning after a long night. So look up, look up, this is a song about believing it’s gonna be alright, when you turn your eyes upon Jesus….” I long for the morning after this long night. I’m tired, so very tired.

As my exhausted body begs for sleep I turn to another song, a newer song. I hope to be able to meet Mr. Chapman at this summer’s Hills Alive music festival when I work it. As a DJ sometimes I get to do that. I want to thank him for the first verse of his newest song, Glorious Unfolding.

Lay your head down tonight
Take a rest from the fight
Don’t try to figure it out
Just listen to what I’m whispering to your heart
‘Cause I know this is not
Anything like you thought
The story of your life was gonna be
And it feels like the end has started closing in on you
But it’s just not true
There’s so much of the story that’s still yet to unfold
And this is going to be a glorious unfolding
Just you wait and see and you will be amazed
You’ve just got to believe the story is so far from over
So hold on to every promise God has made to us
And watch this glorious unfolding

Those words speak to my heart with clarity. I need to lay my head down tonight trusting that God is unfolding something beyond what I could ask or even imagine. How do people without Jesus cope with loss? I cannot fathom the despair that must be magnified without an anchor in the promises that I am not alone and I am not directionless. “Let us remember, this life we’re living is just the beginning of the beginning…” The eternal perspective Steven sings about is truth, is life, is hope.

So tonight I will finish writing and head to bed, trusting once more that tomorrow God will help me care for my kids and direct my paths because I trust Him. He has never failed me and He won’t start now. He will bring the joy and help these wounds continue to heal. He will continue to send me friends and family to offer support and help. He will continue to direct my path because I have asked Him to. Where He leads, I will follow no matter where that path leads.

One day I will look back and see the gloriously unfolding story He walked me through because I kept my eyes on Jesus. For tonight all I need to do is trust Him and get some sleep.

Lightening My Load

Last night I wrestled with grief, yet again. It was a rocky weekend for unexpected reasons. Writing helps me work through my grief, my process, my faith. I finished a blog that was, in my humble opinion, pretty well written. But I did not post it.

I thought, I’m tired of writing about grief! I’m sure my friends are tired of reading about it. I’m not sure I should post this. I know that this is what I’m walking right now and writing honestly about what you know is the most powerful form of personal story. But wrestling with grief is exhausting. It’s heavy and it saps your energy. I want to write about funny or sweet again. I want to shake grief off my shoulders like an ugly coat. I want to write about sunshine and unicorns and butterflies. OK, maybe not that last sentence.

I started today trying to shake the heaviness of feeling low by exercising and going to coffee with a friend. I shared with her why I hadn’t posted what I’d written. She agreed this must be exhausting. It’s exhausting for her just walking next to me and helping me through this. She wasn’t complaining but she understood.

And then God sent me a reminder of why I’m still writing about my process of grief. It came in the form of a Facebook message from a stranger. Tears filled my eyes as a woman in Florida whom I’ve never met but who teaches my niece and nephew sent me a note of encouragement.

“…I have kinda kept up with your story because of your sisters. I started reading your blog just because they had shared it with me and I was interested. I have laughed, cried, and ran the gamut of emotions. Your way with words and total honesty had me floored from the beginning. I have learned a lot about the grieving process through you. Funny how God gives us what we need before we even know we need it. Exactly 2 weeks ago, my sister received the devastating news that her husband was killed on the job out of town. I went into immediate action & drove the 3 hours to be with her. We traveled to North Carolina to retrieve his belongings and I talked about your blog along the way. Because of you I knew some things to say (& not to say) and knew how to help her with the terrible tasks that needed to be tended to. I have shared your blog with her & I know it will begin to help her heal...little by little. I just wanted you to know I appreciate you & wanted you to know YOU are making a difference.”

Oh how I needed that today. And as I finished reading it I was reminded of the other people who have told me they know someone I don’t who is following my blog. There’s the friend in Michigan who asked my advice on what NOT to say to a friend suffering loss. There’s my late-husband’s cousin in Indiana who is reading it, I’ve heard, as she struggles through a different kind of loss. The tears could not be contained but now they were accompanied by a smile.

I share her note not to brag about my abilities but to point to a God who brings us what we need, when we need it. I was feeling this might be pointless. I was feeling my words might be, well, actually, annoying. God whispered today a reminder into my heart that He is using my pain to help others. That has been the cry of my heart from the start. If I cannot use what I’ve gone through to show others how faithful He is, what is the point? If I cannot show that Jesus runs to the brokenhearted, then this struggle is meaningless.

So I guess I might post what I wrote last night. Because somewhere there is at least one mom struggling to deal with the sudden loss of her husband as she shepherds little hearts. Maybe she needs to hear what she’s feeling is normal and there is hope. Maybe she needs to hear from another mom that this will start to get better but that it takes time. Maybe she needs to hear that Jesus loves her and is willing to walk through this with her.

Oh that God would continue to use my words to help others dealing with grief. That makes it a little more bearable. That lightens my load.