Blessed Be the Lord!

Naked I came forth from my mother’s womb, and naked shall I go back again. The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord! (Job 1:21).

I want to start this post with an apology for my “radio silence.” Since my father died last month, I have found myself experiencing an utter inability to write anything meaningful; the words simply don’t come. That being said, I wanted to share some reflections on things I’ve been mulling over the past weeks.

A friend of mine asked me a curious question several years ago: Do you trust God for your trials? Not “with” but “for.” At the time, I didn’t really know what he meant, but after the events of the past year or so, I have learned plenty about what that question means. It’s easy to think that if life is going along swimmingly, that’s a sign that God is happy with me. Conversely, if something goes wrong, it’s tempting to wonder “Is God mad at me? Did I do something bad?”

I have come to the conclusion that while, yes, bad things happen, they’re not necessarily bad for us. Let me explain. I firmly believe what Scripture says about nothing happening without our heavenly Father’s knowledge – and permission. Are not two sparrows sold for a small coin? Yet not one of them falls to the ground without the Father’s knowledge (Mt. 10:29). The bottom line is that whether God actively wills something to happen in my life, or simply permits it, it is for my good because He can bring good out of anything, and will do so if I cooperate with His grace.

Sometimes going through difficulties like this teaches us to count our blessings. When my Dad first became ill about three years ago, it fell on me to be my mother’s primary helper with him. My sister lives in Wisconsin and my brother lives about 70 miles away, too far to be able to get to the folks’ house in a pinch. I live only a mile from them, so when anything came up, I had to be the “go to” (and still am). Sometimes it meant driving one or both of them to doctors’ appointments. Sometimes it meant spending an entire weekend looking after Dad so that my mother could get away for a couple of days and have a break. Sometimes it was more serious - occasionally Dad would fall during the night and Dave and I would be called to come and help get him back up. Occasionally, it meant talking to financial people and lawyers and trying to unravel some of the confusing verbiage for my Mom.

For a while, I kind of resented being the one who had to always jump in, often having to forego my own plans because the situation simply called for that. I even resented that charity and the 4th commandment demanded that I do these things that were necessary. I never said much about it to anyone at the time, but grumbled internally and occasionally complained to God in prayer – Why me?

However, after my father passed away, I realized that, of us three siblings, I’m the lucky one. I got to spend all that time with Dad. I got to listen to him reminisce about things that had happened to him throughout his life – stories that I otherwise probably would have never heard. We would sometimes watch football or baseball games together, or debate about politics. As he grew weaker, it often meant just watching him sleep. We didn't have to say anything.

In the end, I have the consolation of knowing that I did absolutely everything for him that I possibly could, at least as best as I could perceive it at the time. Going through all of this surfaced some family issues that had long been repressed and allowed me to deal with them in a healthy way. There is a lot of peace in that. I have learned to view the difficulties in my life with a new set of eyes and, as my friend counseled, to trust the Lord for my trials, not just with them.

Yes, the Lord has taken away, but in doing so, how very much He has given! Blessed be the name of the Lord!