I knew I shouldn’t have done it. After all, it was a Sunday.
* * * * * * * * *
I’d been by myself at the house this morning, unusual for a Sunday, and even though I was up and ready, it crossed my mind to skip church. No one would miss me, and I wouldn’t have to sit alone. But that sounded like going backwards, so I drank the last of my coffee and headed out. Despite wearing a skirt, I rode my bike rather than walk the six blocks, because I was late.
As I pedaled toward the church, I could hear a woman’s voice being piped from the pulpit to outdoor speakers. She was weeping as she asked for prayer to handle a challenge she was facing. Parking my bike near an out-of-the-way bush, I felt ashamed of my self-centeredness, having temporarily forgotten that no one is immune from serious pain.
By the end of the service, I felt weepy and headed away quickly, talking to no one, anxious to get back to the shelter of the cottage. Although our family tradition has always been to eat out on Sundays, a bowl of oatmeal sounded just right. But I should have known better than to accompany it with the hard-copy stack of emails from the early days of Nate’s cancer.
This stack of 8 X 11 papers, which I’ve tried to read several times, approaches the sacred to me, and a sad Sunday seemed like the right time to read a few more. I was missing Nate, and by looking back into those days when he was still alive, it was almost like a visit with him.
The 50-plus emails in my stack were all dated between Sept. 23, the day after Nate’s diagnosis, and Sept. 29 – six days of shock and hurt. When the girls had printed them out at my request, some of my own responses were still attached to many of them. It was one of my own paragraphs that made me burst into tears over my oatmeal. The following lines were written to Linnea on Sept. 24, two days into Nate’s cancer:
“Tonight as we were driving home from Chicago (me driving), Papa was beginning to share something about our family, but when he said the phrase ‘Remember when the kids were little and…’ he broke down and wept. I don’t know what it was, but I think he was thinking back to those happy days and one of you doing or saying something cute, and thinking of these difficult days now and the passing of time, and all of it mixed in together for him.”
Dabbing at my mascara, I set the stack of emails aside once again, wondering if I’d ever be able to get through them. I want so badly to re-read what our precious friends and relatives had sent in the beginning, knowing their words and verses had been chosen with care to encourage and support. They might hold even more power now.
All of a sudden I had an overpowering urge to look at Nate’s wedding ring. I ran upstairs and pulled the tiny green velvet bag from my dresser drawer and took out his gold band, hugging it and crying with longing for my man. It’s not easy when the only thing left to hug is a husband’s cold ring.
I took a gold chain off its hook, the one with the heart pendant that had Nate’s name engraved on it, and slipped his ring onto the same chain. Suddenly I couldn’t make sense of what seemed like a contradiction: God is good, but this is bad. Although I’ve accepted his goodness many times over in recent months, today it wouldn’t compute.
Immediately a favorite quote came to mind, and I knew right away Who was rushing toward me with understanding and comfort:
“If you can explain what God is doing, God is probably not doing it.” (Dr. Bob Cook)
In other words, because I can’t explain Nate’s cancer, his death and our grieving, I can be certain the whole thing IS of God, and I know he wouldn’t have taken Nate as he did without an excellent reason. God doesn’t expect me to understand his ways. (Both he and I know I never could.) He only asks me to believe he knows best… for Nate… and for me.
And I do.
“ ‘My thoughts are nothing like your thoughts,’ says the Lord. ‘And my ways are far beyond anything you could imagine. For just as the heavens are higher than the earth, so my ways are higher than your ways and my thoughts higher than your thoughts.’ ” (Isaiah 55:8-9)
Love you lots, Margaret! Send hugs and prayers your way!
I love you.
Hope your Monday is a better and happier day for you, we all have our meltdowns for different reasons….
Miss you all and the beach:-)
As I went to sleep last night I thought of you and how lonely it must be. I said a prayer for you and now I see it was a lonely day for you. God works in mysterious ways. I think of you often and enjoy your blog so much as I read it each morning while drinking my coffee.
Thank you, Margaret for sharing that you still have days of lonliness. I just returned from a family reunion (70 in all) and in the middle of the laughter and fellowship I had many moments of feeling alone. I also liked your comment “If you can explain what God is doing, God is not doing it.” I had a conversation with my cousin who has gone through a tough six years and he said he sometimes feels like a gnat on an elephant being asked to describe the elephant. We cannot begin to describe God or understand His ways…we just trust. Thanks for sharing.
Wishing I were still there. Love you!
Margaret, you are still very much in our prayers. I keep thinking of the words to an old song (and so have used it many times to pray from): “God is too good to be unfaithful, God is too good to be unkind; so when we can’t understand, when we can’t see His plan, when we can’t feel His hand, trust His heart.” Praying His loving kindness holds you up today.
There is a song I have sung before, but can’t remember all of the words. However, there is a phrase that talks about God doing things ‘for His own glory, and our best good.’ So there it is. I know all of us have those times when we wonder if what we are going through is good, much less for our best good. But I guess that’s when we need to quit over-thinking, and just hold God’s hand. I’m sure you have seen (and probably done it yourself) a mother holding the hand of her small child who is stumbling along behind crying at the top of his or her lungs. She never breaks step, never loses her cool, because she loves that child and will give only good. God has days like that with us. He is used to our meltdowns, and just continues walking forward holding on to us.
I had a hard time yesterday, too, and that verse was one of the ones I found comfort in.
Your Sunday Blog goes along with the Sunday morning message, from our Pastor. If you ever need to hear great messages, go to my church’s website http://www.sevierheights.org Go ahead and wear the ring/heart necklace this week.
Coffee and tea are ready…..come down anytime. Love you!
I love you too. Praying for you today.
Hugs and much love from us. May God grant you courage and strength.
Lord, the Psalmist cried out that he would be despairing if he did not believe He would see Your goodness in the land of the living. Today, infuse within Margaret fresh faith and fresh hope that goodness and mercy will follow at her heels. Like the sparrow, You see when her heart falls, so lift it anew.
Love,
Terry
I have been bawling reading your blog tonight. Brings back so many memories of absolute gut wrenching grief. I wear Tom’s wedding ring around my neck and whenever I have those feelings wash over me I reach up and hold his ring and remember how much he loved me and how blessed I have been to have shared my life with him. Truly we are called to just TRUST AND OBEY, not to understand. God Bless you Margarent and pray that today has been better for you.
How I wish grief was not a process. When a deep pain came into my life and I experienced a number of losses, I flew to Chicago. My friends spent 2 days with me in a hotel and we cried, prayed and they gave me scripture! I thought OK, now I am going to be all better! It still was a process that took me more than 2yrs to go thru. And that was not my husband going home to Jesus. You are on my heart. luv Beth