Marjorie swiped her hand in a downward motion across her heart as if she could brush the grief away. She felt it clinging to her like unwanted burs on her socks after walking through the fields on the farm. With fisted hands she rubbed her eyes, willing tears away with a deep breath and a straightening of her spine.
I won't give into this grief today.
It was no use, it still clung; tight, suffocating. Her selfdetermination wasn't going to work this time.
Why won't it just leave me alone? Haven't I dealt with this pain long enough? God, why are you doing this to me, to us? We've lost everything! The crops were growing so well, and in one fell swoop of a hail storm, they're all gone. Now Michael is lost in a world of his own and won't even speak to me. As if our losing everything is my fault.
Marjorie sat down in her floral recliner by the window, light streaming in, casting sun rays on the gleaming wood floor, where dust mites danced. She had a thought of them suntanning and giggled. It was a brief reprieve from sadness that prevailed the last several days. The losses were overwhelming. Worst of all was the silence of her beloved husband as day after day he roamed the fields. His evenings were spent poring over ledgers, finagling figures, to see how they would make it through. When they crawled into bed at night, he turned his back to her, while she silently wept beside him, yearning for what they used to share before this tragedy.
She wanted Michael back; his sweet love, his teasing ways. Mostly though, she wanted his strength back, the strength she knew came from the Lord he served so faithfully.
Her mind went back to their conversation right after the hail storm.
“Marj, I just don't get it. I have served God all these years, and now this?! What have I done to deserve this?!”
“Michael, you know God doesn't work that way. We live in a fallen world; things just happen. You've told me that many times....”
“Don't throw my words back at me, Marjorie! This time He's gone too far and I won't stand for it!” He'd snatched his coat off the hook by the door, yanked it on, and stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind him. He had been silent since.
Marjorie glanced at her Bible on the end table beside her chair. Picking it up, she held it to her chest. A brief prayer for guidance, formed in her heart before opening it to where she'd been reading lately in 2 Corinthians. Let's see where was I? Her eyes landed on where she'd left off and she read, “For you know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ: Though He was rich, for your sake He became poor, so that by His poverty you might become rich.”
Um, Lord, I don't think we're rich. We're anything but, in fact. Not that we're destitute, but we sure seem close to that, right now, after this latest setback. Wait, that's not what this verse is talking about is it?
As she read the verse again, the phrase “though He was rich, for your sake He became poor” made its way slowly into her heart, soothing her with the enormity of it, bringing comfort where grief had settled, where anger had started a tiny root of bitterness. Oh, wow, has my grief really been anger? Lord help me to hear what you're wanting to say to me right now. For my sake you became poor, so that I might become rich. You walked this earth, devoid of your glory, hung on a cross, dying for me, taking on my sin, so that in You, I would be saved, and have the riches of salvation, the most glorious riches of all. In that richness I have everything, even when outwardly it may look like I have nothing. Lord, I know that Michael had been reading the same passages I was. I've seen him still reading his Bible, so I pray that as he reads this sometime today, that you will speak this to his heart as well.
The opening of the door startled her. Marjorie looked up, seeing Michael walk in, a sheen of tears on his cheeks, but a glow about him she hadn't seen in days. “Honey,” he said, “I'm so sorry for how I've treated you lately. I was out in the barn, reading my Bible, and, well, I'd like to talk to you about what I just read, about Jesus becoming poor so that we might be rich...”
Marjorie smiled, stood up, opened her arms to her husband for a warm embrace, knowing that they would have a much-needed talk and that their hearts were beginning to mend, once again knowing the richness of Christ's love, mercy, and grace.