Dear God,
You do all things well. Looking back over the last year, I can see your presence running through the weeks like shoelaces through the eyelets of a sneaker. As I moved up and down, in and out, you did, too.
A year ago this week, Nate’s dull backache escalated to piercing pain. The guy who had arrived home from work routinely at 7:00 pm for 37 years began walking through the door at 4:00, then 2:00, then noon. His pain dominated everything. Twenty-six chiropractic appointments didn’t help. Visits to back specialists helped only by giving him the hope that surgery would fix things, at least for a while.
But then they found the cancer, and we learned nothing could fix that, unless you did. But you removed Nate from this world instead, separating him from his physical agony, his business pressures and us.
I trust you 100%, Lord. Even on the days when my heart says it wasn’t a good thing, my mouth praises you, because you do all things well, even this. I know it’s too soon to understand, and my lack of knowing isn’t reason enough to say, “But this, you didn’t do well.” You’ve never made a mistake, which means Nate’s death was purposeful.
I look back to early summer and remember the process of starting the blog, not realizing it was you who named it and you who assigned it to me. I just wanted to practice my writing. You wanted to use it as a channel of blessing to others. GettingThroughThis.com is all yours. Yet somehow you’ve allowed me to partner with you (a junior partner, to be sure). You take my inadequate sentences and pluck words from the air to show me how to do it better. Yes, you do things well.
This morning when you and I talked, I was whining about the 24 books I’ve been given by precious friends, because I can’t read them all. I was expressing frustration at the many times I’ve been asked to go out with people who are lovingly caring for me, because I can’t go with them all. I was also bemoaning having to be on the phone too much, having to run too many errands, having to participate in regular life. And it was as if you asked, “So what do you want to do?”
As I’ve thought about that, I think my answer reflects that I’m in mourning for my husband. I wouldn’t have called it mourning, because on the outside everything looks fine. And when people say, “How are you doing?” I answer, “Oh, I’m OK.” But the way I desire to spend each day is not the old Margaret who loved to be out-and-about, loved to chit-chat with people, loved a full calendar and loved to have company. Maybe I’m cocooning or circling the wagons. Whatever it’s called, it’s a different me. The only answer can be that it’s my response to the sadness of Nate’s death.
He died 2½ months ago, and it still feels fresh. So you asked, Lord, what do I want to do with my days? Only four things:
- Talk to you
- Dig for biblical gold
- Write the blog
- Walk with Jack
That’s all.
Thank you for the word picture you gave me after our teary conversation this morning. (And I’m glad it was only me crying and not you, too!) I see myself snuggled under a warm down quilt, resting beneath the open windows overhead. The fresh winter air is sweet, and I’m warm. I asked you if this was a picture of selfishness, and you answered with Luke 13:34 where Jesus said he longed to gather his own people “as a hen protects her chicks beneath her wings.” My picture is much like yours, except that my hen is a quilt. The hen feathers and quilt feathers, though, are really all you. I’m taking that scriptural picture as your “OK” that I spend these days backing away from doing regular life and instead concentrating on those four things. Thank you for hearing me and responding back so well.
I pray in the name of Jesus, Amen.
“They were astonished beyond measure, saying, ‘He has done all things well’.” (Mark 7:37a)
Oh, Margaret, I’m so glad you choose to be protected and comforted under his wings. I love the word picture God gave you. Your four daily goals sound perfect.
sounds wonderful, Mom. you have “done” more than most all along and i have to remind myself that God does not need our work, does not need our tithes and does not need anything from us. all He wants is voluntary love..and anything that flows from that.
As a result of your cocooning, we your readers will continue to be blessed. I have loved all your insights on life and have shared your blog with many. In this way you are still out and about and chit-chatting with others. I loved the sneakers analogy with the laces and eyelets!
You have been wounded and how wonderful that you have chosen to spend tim with the Great Physician while you heal. Sharing what you are learning at thihis time via your blog is reaching so many more people than you can in person. Thanks for sharing
Margaret – That sounds really good. Many times people who are grieving get really busy instead of facing their emotions and never take the time to deal with what’s going on in their hearts. Just one thing though . . . pretty soon you’ll have to add snuggle grandbabies to your list! 🙂
I praise the Lord for His closeness to you, Margaret, and His joy in your goals, that are His also. May His peace surround your every moment.
You’re doing exactly what you should be. I love what Nelson and Connie said.
This is your season, however long/short it may be, to rest, be a recluse, to just be and not do, just being quiet wrapped up in His big, comforting arms. The tide will turn when the Lord will nudge you to socialize or anything else that was a norm of your daily routine.
Dear Margaret,
Your list of 4 sounds perfect. The writer of Ecclesiastes wisely said there is a time to mourn, and this is your time… in his wisdom, he gave no specifics as to it’s length. You have reflected back on the ways in which God was preparing you for this appointed time. I also think about the unusual timing of the sale of your home, just prior to Nate’s diagnosis. On the one hand, it would be easy to say from a human perspective, why now? On the other hand, it was one more way the Lord seemed to go before you. There is a time to mourn, and He put put you in a state, a town and a church, where hiding under His wing is possible. You’re not okay, and that’s okay.
Whenever there is a tragedy at school, a student dies, or a relative of a student, it seems the mode of operation is to get the student body or that student back to normal as quickly as possible. I can’t put my finger yet on why that is so wrong, except that in a general sense, it is one more example of post-Christian thinking in our society. Perhaps all the other “isms” seem plausible until they pile one on top of the other, falling short at death’s door. So we quickly try to move them along, even though the writer of Ecclesiastes also says it is better to go to a house of mourning than a house of feasting, because there the living take to heart that their days also are numbered.
In any case, while death is normal, it is also not normal. It is shocking and goes against the grain of the eternal clock that He has set in our hearts. The Bible says it is an enemy. It’s outrageous, isn’t it, perverse even, to hear the normal chatter and clatter of life carrying on around you, when your heart feels anything but normal? The world must seem muffled, surreal, as you continue on in the daily patterns of a life you no longer share with Nate. Your cocoon analogy is a perfect picture. That butterfly in the making knows when it’s time to leave the cocoon and emerging is a struggle, and anything sooner weakens its wings and aborts its flight.
After the flood, Noah sent a dove out to see if the water had abated enough to leave the ark. Each time, the dove came back to the ark because the waters were still too deep. This is your ark, and the waters of mourning are deep. One day, the dove won’t return because just like then, the Lord will “cause a wind to pass over” your waters, and they will subside and you will find your dry land, and you will know it.
I think of another time in Scripture, when God came in the wind. In 2 Kings 19, Elijah also was in mourning. 700 of his fellow prophets had been killed and he was next. Elijah’s cocoon was a cave, and he lodged there… and God let him. The Lord provided him with rest, food, exercise, and solitude. All around him was the cacaphony of the world- a tornado, an earthquake and fire. But the Lord was not in those things. No, the Lord met him in his cave in the sound of a gentle blowing. God is not in any hurry, and one day, like Elijah, He will tell you to return on your way, and He will give you Elisha’s, even as He is now, to minister to you.
Your solitude, your Bible, your blog, your dog, these are the things He has placed before you in this appointed time of mourning.
We love you and affirm to you that these are the things you need.
“Great Shepherd of Margaret’s soul, You have made her to lie down in green pastures and beside still waters. You have removed her from the clatter of life to restore her soul. You are not running her through this deep valley, but are walking with her, Your rod and staff measuring out every pace. The enemy of her soul would try to defeat her, but right in his presence, You are preparing her table, anointing her with Your Holy Spirit, and pouring into her cup. Make Your goodness and lovingkindness follow closely at her heels. It is Your Word that brings healing, so send it and deliver her.” Psalm 23; 107:20.
Much love,
Terry
Oops- the teacher in me can’t let this go- 1 Kings, not 2 Kings, and I’m not sure where the 700 came from- but that Jezebel killed most of the prophets- darn numbers.
He Does All Things Well.com is also all His, and you keep attesting to that, which keeps making it true for the rest of us. com! Pray, pursue, pen, puppy. Sounds like His formula for health and holiness!