LET THE POOR GUY VENT!

 

My devotional  Bible reading has brought me again to the book of Job. I can’t say I welcomed it. But once I got into it again, I gained even more insight than in previous readings. This time it was not the feelings of my own grief and pain that moved me, but those of a dear friend whose physical suffering is compounded by the stress of trying circumstances. I found myself not in the place of Job, but that of his friends who had the responsibility to comfort him. I had the opportunity to do it right! To avoid the egregious errors of Job’s friends.

During my widowhood, I have been blessed by many friends who were sensitive and frankly admitted that they couldn’t imagine how I felt. Yet a few others (even, surprisingly, some widows) couldn’t resist giving advice, even rebuke, when I vented my honest feelings. That’s what Job experienced after he broke his seven-day silence and vented his emotions (Chapter 3). Eliphaz rebuked him with pious platitudes and unfair innuendos. In Job’s response (Chaps. 6-7), he admits that his words were rash (6:3), but can’t a suffering man vent his emotions? How can he do otherwise?

Then Job answered, "Oh that my grief were actually weighed And laid in the balances together with my calamity! "For then it would be heavier than the sand of the seas; Therefore my words have been rash. (Job 6:1-3)

Does the wild donkey bray over his grass, Or does the ox low over his fodder? Can something tasteless be eaten without salt, Or is there any taste in the white of an egg? (Job 6:5-6)

When all is well, there’s no reason to complain. The wild donkey eating grass is content, as is the ox feeding at the trough. Someone who is still enjoying the companionship of a spouse can’t know what it’s like to be without one, to be alone as only a widowed person is alone. That’s why it is painful to get spiritual advice from a happily married person. The very sight of couples--shopping together, in church together, working in the yard together--is painful to a widower. To then be told how he should handle it is like--pardon the cliché--rubbing salt in the wound.

And speaking of salt, “Can something tasteless be eaten without salt?” Can the grieving person bear to consume his unsavory circumstances without the “salt” of expressing that grief? Doesn’t he need to vent it as forcefully and eloquently as he knows how? 

A year and a half into my widowhood, I still feel the pain of loneliness. Yet God has brought me into the suffering of others, suffering much greater than mine. And now I have to admit, “I don’t know what it feels like, brother! You have my prayers.” And if you need to vent, go right ahead! That I do understand.

WIDOWERS ARE NOT CREATED EQUAL

Let me play Rod Serling for a moment and take you into The Twilight Zone.

Imagine that you are alone every day with no companionship but a radio. Most of your “human” contact is through text messages and an occasional audio conversation on the computer or your smartphone. When the telephone rings, you hope for a momen that it might be a friend or family member, but it is nearly always a robo-call, which you grumpily refuse to answer. On those rare occasions when the caller really is a friend or family member, you talk and talk until you fear becoming a bore. And you always thank the person for listening to you.

Evenings are the worst, that time when you would have relaxed with your wife in pleasant conversation. Then there is the painful act of climbing into bed alone. That’s when the weight of loneliness weighs the heaviest. You sleep fitfully, careful to remain on “your” side of the bed, waking occasionally with the fleeting sense that she is still there. Then the weight descends again.

I have read the posts of widowed folks who spend time with children and grandchildren, and I can’t help but envy them. No one can replace the companionship of a wife, but companionship with anyone who loves you helps relieve the pain. But my days are in The Twilight Zone of utter alone-ness. I survive only by the grace of God. But I feel the effect of it on my body. It's involuntary.

That God has a purpose in my suffering , I have no doubt. God has a purpose for all He allows into our lives. I have become a more prolific writer since my widowhood, and what I have written has helped and encouraged others. For that I am grateful. In the past my articles were published in national magazines, and yet I have found more satisfaction in sharing my thoughts and insights pro bono with people who are dear to me.

Yet there must be a larger purpose for what I am going through. Being a better writer is hardly worth the pain of my utter loneliness. I know that God’s ultimate relief for my “crook in the lot” is to take me to heaven. That happens frequently in the case of widowers.

Yesterday I talked with Linda’s best friend who shared a whole list of husbands and wives who had died within a short time of each other. I asked, “Did the wife die first?” She thought a moment, and in every case she could recall, the wife died first and the man followed shortly thereafter. That’s the statistical pattern with widowers. Both my father and my father-in-law lived only a month or less after their wives died. Widowers are less likely to live out their normal life expectancy than are widows.

Spiritual pep-talks don’t change the environmental condition—the condition of being alone—and that has an immediate effect on a man’s health. If the heat is too much for a person’s body, knowing that the Lord loves him will not spare him from heat stroke! He needs a change of environment—quickly! Perhaps a better analogy is hypothermia! That’s what it feels like to have no human warmth, either physically or emotionally.

“It is not good that the man should be alone,” God said. And widowers are not all created equal.

LONELINESS IS A KILLER

I don’t need statistics to tell me that loneliness is detrimental to one’s health. I’m living it. I never had high blood pressure in my life—that is, until my wife fell gravely ill and passed away. Since then, my BP has been borderline hypertensive.

But not always. The exceptions are what point to loneliness as the culprit. The other day an old friend from Bible college and his wife came to visit. We had a wonderful afternoon together and then they took me out to dinner. When I got home I checked my BP: 127/77.  On another occasion when I had enjoyed pleasant conversation, it was 117/ 71. That last reading was after I had preached at a funeral and enjoyed fellowship at the reception afterwards.

 A widow friend commented recently that former friends tend to avoid you when you are no longer a couple. Many people don’t know how to relate to widows or widowers. A friend and former colleague was simply honest at the reception after Linda’s memorial service: “I don’t know how to handle these things.” I told him I appreciated his honesty.

 Loneliness is worse when the sun goes down. There is nearly unanimous agreement on that among widowed folks. Evenings were for the two of us. And a year and a half of solitary existence has not relieved the pain of going to bed alone. I still sleep on “my side” of the bed, as though she is still there or someday will be. When Linda was away helping our daughters-in-law after their childbirth, I would enjoy having the whole bed to myself! I rolled wherever I wanted to. She probably did the same, but we missed each other. And we knew we would soon be back together. Not now. Her side is sacred now.

 It’s not surprising then that loneliness disrupts one’s sleep pattern. Waking at odd hours feeling wide awake is common. That leads to weariness during the day and the need to nap, which further contributes to the erratic patterns.

 God’s assessment in Genesis 2:18 is not academic to me. I feel it profoundly. "It is not good for the man to be alone . . .” It’s not mankind as some translations imply and commentators opine. The definite article is there in the Hebrew. It’s not good for the man, Adam, the only human being on earth, to be alone! Even though Adam had communion with God daily, he experienced the loneliness that there was no one suited for him—until God brought his bride down the aisle.