Me & Jesus

 I love this meme. I don't particularly think anyone has talked about me, don't actually care. It would be the most interesting conversation they'll have in a year. But I've learned some things this last year and this reminded me. 

People don't want to have a conversation with you to see what is happening in your life. They don't want to know how YOU are or if there is anything wrong. Really. Watch their eyes glaze over if you say anything other than "fine". But they're quick to find fault if something comes out where you're in trouble, sick, or broke. "Well, she or he must have done something wrong to cause all that. God is after them." 

Yep, He sure is. He's spent the last year keeping my head just above water cause the devil harassed me on every front for a YEAR. If he had his way, I’d be homeless, walking, and no food. I mean every single front. My house, my car, my finances, my family, my health, and my peace of mind. My sanity! 

Well, you know, "We all got problems." 

Why, yes, we do! Please tell me yours so I can pray for you. I sincerely want to hear and pray for you. And if I can help you with anything, you call me, email me, text me, send a carrier pigeon. If I can't help you, I'll do my best to help you find help. I know how to do that! If I can’t do anything else, I’ll hold your hand and walk with you.

But you know what? No one said that to me. And I mentioned what I was dealing with to people. (See paragraph two.) Not ONE. Except a dozen Facebook contacts. Some of whom haven't even met me and some family. Thank God for everyone of you who did something, even if was just a message to say you were praying! I believe in prayer, but it is an extra blessing when people hear, acknowledge, and act.

I texted a virtual stranger the other day; he was a guy who cut my yard for two years when the mower died. I only saw him once every two weeks as he flew by on the mower and chatting when I paid him. He cut me a deal on the yard. I sent a text that said, “I need someone who does handy man work.” The yard man sent me a contact. I found the yard guy from a writing friend because I had a broken down mower and he sent me the details. These folks have become real friends. I have no idea how much the handyman repairs I need will cost. I’ll worry about it later.

That’s just minor problems. But starting October 2023, I had covid for the third time and was sick three months, thru Christmas. The freezer went out. I’d previously lost two freezers of food because of a faulty circuit. It’s fixed now, and I didn’t lose food, but it cost the earth. The same week, the car broke down. That cost more. Two weeks later, it broke down again. All in October and November. In one month, I spent my entire income. All of it. And no, that wasn’t the end. There were plumbing problems after New Year. And the water and light bill went up again. Groceries went up. Gas went up. 

But you know something? I've survived all of it. Because the Almighty has kept me from drowning. Even when I asked Him to let me drown. Sometimes drowning is easier. He scraped up a handful of people I didn’t know well, some family who love me, and a precious new friend who needed help as well. She needed a place to stay, and I needed a boarder. It was miraculous. It’s both a pleasure to have her here and a blessing to have the help. And then Sarah came home. 

I’ve sat here in this house feeling so unloved. And so defeated. All my life, I had people around me I could go to or resources. I worked, took care of myself, supported a second household. I’ve been faithful in paying my tithes. Yeah, you can talk about that if you want to. Suddenly, there was NO money and no friends. If I had not had a credit card, I would have been in trouble. But I owed people. And borrowed money must also be repaid. The Bible says owe no man. I owe a bunch of them. And now I could add God to the list. I was in a very bad place in every conceivable way. And alone. No one knew because no one asked. 

I realized that I’d have to just do the best with the debts I owed to men. And the debt to God? That is far greater than my pittance. It is what it is. I didn’t ask for the circumstances. I sure didn’t ask for the problems. God is very aware of my bank balance. Every dime is His, the land I live on is his, the car I drive is his. I am his. If he wants anything I have, he can just withdraw it. I’m good with that. Really. This is not my home. This is a residence. 

This month, a small light shone on my little scrap of land. No, it isn’t all fixed. I got a call from out of town. Someone paid the house payment for one month! That one thing shifted things. For a minute, I thought everything would be fine. It’s gonna take more than a minute. But that one minute … it’s gold.

Then, today, while I sat here beating myself up, grieving over money, I decided to write it all down. To pour out the poison, that is one more trick in a long list from the enemy. So, I don’t have a problem. I’m broke. I don’t have trouble. I am doing something right or the devil wouldn’t be bothering me so much. I got broke stuff. It all belongs to Jesus so he’ll have to fix it.

And I’ve decided since I survived death, I will survive this, too. And I’ll do it alone. Just me and Jesus. Or with the people who hold out their hands filled with friendship, love, and prayer. 

Where Was Job's Wife?

 I've been in a tremendous hole for nearly a month. Sometimes life overwhelms me and I have a meltdown. I've always had a habit of overthinking a problem, but Jerry was the anchor that sort of balanced me. He couldn't always fix the problem, but an anchor is really just to stabilize the boat and keep it from drifting out to sea. He kept the boat from rocking so much.

After he died, I lost all sense of stability. In fact, it felt like I was tossed into a washing machine. My tendency to over think situations escalated to the point I'd lose my self control. I had to ask people for help, something I never did in my entire life. Not ever. Yet, there I was, not able to resolve simple problems because I couldn't think clearly. I couldn't focus. The fibromyalgia brain fog added to the chaos. 

These days, I'm not as unstable as I was, but I'm never going to be who I was before Jerry died. That part of me died with him. Death of a spouse is the death of two people. One of them remains, but 50% of their personality is simply destroyed. They'll recover to some degree, but they'll never be who they were and people who know them well will see it. They won't understand, but they'll see it. I don't sing anymore. I talk too much. I avoid most social events because I don't enjoy sitting in a corner alone. I can't cope with trauma at all. I hate who this made me, what it did to my life, but I can't undo it. So it gets dark sometimes.

So, for the last several months, I've been in a dark place. I can't describe this any way other than they're cold, dark, and devastatingly lonely. One has a tendency to reach out to people. The tendency of those people you reach out to, is to push you away. Really. I mean, didn't you realize that is why people commit suicide so often? They were unseen suffers whose desperation results in people shoving them aside. The excess talking, the neediness all reflect a soul clutching for an anchor for just a few minutes. 

It's hell. Oh, not for you. For them.

When I get in these places, I do a lot of praying. I become very unsociable to protect other people from the fallout. I crawl into my hole and pull the dirt in over me. For me, this is a normal reaction. 

I've tried to overcome this the last several years. And I really wanted to go to church. I needed to go to church! So, I went despite this enveloping darkness.

 Of course, people always think you're in physical pain at these times, and because most folks are shallow, they won't delve too deep. It's easy to let them think what they think. They don't really want to hear about what is really bothering another person. They don't actually see you after the first three minutes. 

I struggled to listen to the lesson during Sunday School. I like the fella who was teaching. He's good. But I was surprised when, out of the blue, a question popped into my head. I'll take you with me for this. 

"Where was Job's wife?" 

He's not teaching about Job. 

No, but where was she?

Job's wife? Well...I guess she was home.  

Sure she was. She was nagging Job, remember?

Yeah, I remember........ wait. She's mentioned one time. I think. They say she told Job to curse God and die.

Yes. That's her. In sermons, they say all he had left was a nagging wife. In fact, she's never named. 

OK. That's harsh.

But where was she?

I don't know.

Well, where was Job?

Oh, he was sitting in an ash heap scratching his sores and moaning with his friends. 

He was. The writer gives it a less judgemental slant, of course.

Of course he does.

Let me tell you about Job's wife. You'll probably recognize her.

I....

Job's wife was in her tent. She was cleaning up the dishes, making beds, washing clothes, cooking a meal for the two of them. That's what was expected of her. Job had lost everything. But Job's wife lost everything she helped him build. She lost her babies; she lost any hope of grandchildren. In her society, this would have been a death blow to any woman. She lost crops, flocks, and children. Job's wife had nothing left, not even her husband. He's sitting in an ash heap scraping his sores and complaining to his comforters. 

The grief she felt was soul crushing and there is no evidence she had comforters, not even the man she'd given her life to, the man she'd born and reared children for, the man she cooked, cleaned, and waited on for decades. He had no time for her. He was suffering. 

"Curse God and die!" she screamed at Job.

"You speak like a foolish child!" he yelled back.

But she wasn't a fool, and she wasn't a child. She was a woman whose whole life was crushed out of existence. As a male, Job could start over. He could build again, get more crops and flocks. He could marry a younger woman and father a new family. But Job's wife... she lost everything that gave her life meaning. Her identity was stripped from her the moment those children died. And she could not start over. 

But the story says God blessed Job, and he had more than he had in the beginning. 

But where was Job's wife?

It doesn't mention her again. 

No it doesn't. 

So ... where was Job's wife?

She was burying her babies. She was cleaning up the mess, cooking the meals, serving Job's comforters wine and cheese, and burying her babies. Job's wife was grieving alone, and she was screaming to die.

Oh. Oh no. 

.............

Job's wife disappeared. There is no indication in the story that Job's wife had more children. No mention of their relationship or of her being blessed. Job was blessed. Where was Job's wife?

The writer neglected to tell us. Although, I think you and I know. You probably understand Job's wife in a way no one else can unless they've lived it.

Yes. 

Why do they do this to us? They make us invisible. It is as if we don't matter. No one sees us. No one hears us. We mustn't make anyone uncomfortable. We're not to draw attention to our pain. Never speak of it. We'll "get over it". We're fools if we don't. No wonder she screamed at him. 

You don't get over it. And you're not fools. But you're going to be all right.

Will I? It hurts. Even now. 

I know. But I see you. l hear you. And you can always talk to me. 

Surely someone reached out to Job's wife? Surely .....

Didn't they?

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