Wednesday, September 25, 2013

In Her Sandals -- Job's Wife

If you haven’t read the prior blog about the woman whose sandals I’m wearing, please do so.


I’m not sure what day it is, but I remember seeing Job. There was something on his face. I go to him and begin examining him, and these sores have spread all over him. I don’t remember crying, but I remember the tears running down my face. Job had boils, painful, oozing boils. We start trying to treat his boils. They are so painful. I’m not sure where I got the strength to get out of my bed or the courage to face another day, but my husband needed me, so I put one foot in front of the other. I take one breath at a time. I don’t remember the last time I ate. I don’t remember the last time I smiled. I don’t even want to think about laughter.

I’ve struggled with the deaths of all my children at one time. Why couldn’t God just have taken me? Why did I have to live? Why did I have to endure on this earth when my babies are in paradise? These thoughts flood my mind, and I do my best to push them aside, so I can focus on Job.

Job’s not eating and getting weaker. It’s hard for him to breathe, and his skin smells of rotting flesh. We cleanse him as best we can, but every touch is excruciating, and sometimes the odors is so strong I become sick. This has gone on for days now. He’s lost so much weight, and the fever leaves him weak and aching internally. I’m not sure just how much more either of us can take. I can’t bear to see him shivering, aching, and writhing in pain or smell his open wounds, and then it all just hits me. I never see it coming either. I just feel it welling up inside me. I get mad. I get so very, very mad. My kids were good kids. They didn’t deserve to die. My husband is the kindest, honest, God-fearing man I know. He doesn’t deserve this. And why on God’s green earth am I still here! I want to be with my kids. Why am I healthy and left to take care of Job by myself? I’m angry. There’s no rhyme or reason to any of this. I can’t make sense of it. I try and try. I pray. I beg God. I plead with God, but I get nothing. In my frustration and grief I blurt out to Job, “Why don’t you just curse God and die!?” UGGGHHH!!! Have you ever felt if you didn’t say something that you’d just burst. It’s like that. Just curse God and die.

As soon as the words tumble out of my mouth, I knew they were wrong, and so did Job. He said I sounded foolish. People judge me harshly for those words. I was there for Job in the darkest of the dark, but I’m human. I’m scared. I mean what would happen to me if Job died? I’m exhausted from taking care of Job 24/7. I’m depressed and numb. I just don’t know how much more we can take. I didn’t support Job as I needed to at this time, but I had no more to give. I’m empty. Done.

People come to visit. They bring food, and all Job can do is sit quietly in ashes. He won’t eat. He doesn’t speak. He’s in such a dark place, and I go to my room to be alone.

Job has company that just sit with him and wait with him. Eventually, Job does speak, and I am relieved. But then his friends start telling him to repent. Really? Do they not know my husband? My husband who makes atonement and sacrifices for himself and on behalf of our children just in case we sinned and didn’t even know it. He wants my husband to repent. I have to leave. Job will have to handle his friend because if I stay I will probably say things that I shouldn’t – a LOT of things I shouldn’t.

My husband was tested which means we were tested. We are husband and wife. We are a team. We raised our children together. We lived life together. Whatever happened to him, happened to me. That’s just the way life is with us. When God blessed Job, He blessed me as well. When catastrophe hit, it hit us both. We may handle our grief differently. We may be in different places with our emotions and healing, but we are still husband and wife.

My life was a fairytale. There isn’t a day that the name of every child of mine doesn’t cross my mind or my lips. I will never forget them. How can I? I gave birth to them. I weaned them. I nursed them when they were ill. I disciplined them when they were in trouble. My arms have never felt so empty nor silence ever sounded so loudly. We have our good days, and we have our bad days.

Job’s friends finally leavet. I know I need to forgive them and their ignorance and doubt. After all, Job forgave me in my ignorance and doubt. We are coming out of the dark, and although I’m scared sometimes about what will happen next, I know that we can make it. I know now that I was never really in control, and whatever happens will happen, but God is faithful. And Job is faithful. He’s faithful to His God and to me. After all these years, I have reason to believe I’m pregnant for the eleventh time. This baby will never replace the ones I lost, but he or she will fill my arms, warm my heart, and I will smile again.

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