The Test With My Name On It

From Beth Moore's study, "The Patriarchs".

1.  Our tests have our names on them.  The Hebrew word for tested means " to test, try, prove...generally carries the idea of testing the quality of someone or something through stressful circumstances.

2.  Our hardest tests involve our dearest loves.

3.  We are not powerless in our tests.  How we take them is entirely up to us.

4.  Obedience is not the hardest part of our most trying tests.  Keeping the faith can be hardest of all.

5.  Like Abraham, we're likely to discover that the harder the test, the further reaching the ramifications.

As the clocked ticked closer to the time to say goodbye, I became less and less aware of the people and goings on around me.  Jake and I were alone in a little bubble.  Time slowed down and I began to both dread and cherish every second and every beat of his heart.  Thousands of thoughts raced through my mind and verse after verse of scripture and songs came and ministered to me one after another.  I am one of those people who underline and write in the margins of my Bible.  I know scripture not by chapter and verse as much as by their position on the page and by the notes I have made for myself over the years.

On the right hand margin of the page where Genesis 22 is situated in my Bible is the note, "Our test has our name on it".  Genesis 22:1 says, "Sometime later God tested Abraham..."  I wrote that note several years ago during Beth Moore's study "The Patriarchs".  As I sat with Jake that note came to mind, I could picture in my mind where it was on the page.  My first thought was how unfair it was that my test was so similar to that of Abraham and wishing to God that there could be a ram stuck in the thicket somewhere.  I knew, however, that was not to be.

I honestly can not describe or explain the clarity of thought and the peace that enveloped me,,,it was supernatural.  I'm sure there was a certain level of shock and crisis-nurse-mode allowing me to function, but there was also a "knowing" that I will never be able to fully explain.  For instance I knew early on that Jake was going to leave, that somehow it was going to be okay.  I knew Jake was with Christ and that he (Jake) wanted to go, or at least he didn't want to return.  On some level Jake made the choice to stay with Christ. I realized that my test was as much, if not more about how I was going to respond to his death as it was about being able to let him go.  Sitting there, holding Jake's hand, I knew this was my test.

I prayed, "Help me!" "Show me how!"  "How will I be able to walk out of this room and leave him here?" And in the midst of that prayer my words shifted, "Help me not fall apart! Help me be a woman of dignity and grace.  I want to be a woman the boys can be proud of.  A Proverbs 31 woman, whose children arise and call her blessed."

I am far from perfect, I am not a super mom.  I've made mistakes and given the boys plenty of material to tell Oprah when they are older.  I'm not always the most thoughtful friend, sister, daughter or mom.  My sins are many.  The one thing I have always tried to be is authentic and real...

I don't think I have ever, in my whole life, been more aware of being watched.  I had the feeling of being a fish in a fish bowl.  I was especially aware of it the first day at the hospital and to a lesser degree in the days and weeks following his death.  It's only natural, I suppose, and rooted in genuine care and love of family and friends, but I had many, many people "keeping an eye on me" and wondering how I was doing.  I'm uncomfortable admitting that I wondered and worried if I was "doing this right".  Was I grieving appropriately?  It did and does bother me that that was where my thoughts went.  It felt terribly self-centered.  Like it or not though people do watch to see how you respond in a crisis and pass their judgment, even if innocently or unknowingly.  "Have you seen so-and-so?  How's she doing?"  I've done it too.  We watch and we wonder how we would respond given the same circumstances.  It wasn't until I remembered the note "our test has our name on it" , that I began to see purpose in those thoughts.

As I was looking back on that moment and remembering the note, I pulled out the book, "The Patriarchs." It didn't take me long to find what I was looking for.  Along with the words of my original note, several other points stood out on the page to minister to me.  The first was the meaning of the word tested," to test, try, prove...generally carries the idea of testing the quality of someone or something through stressful circumstances. The other was that we are not powerless in our tests.  How we take them is entirely up to us.  The shame of feeling what I thought was self-centered evaporated. I began to slowly realize that my hyper-awareness of being on display was deeply rooted in my desire to hear the words "well done good and faithful servant." I want to pass this test and I want to be a woman of dignity and grace, one that Jake can be proud of.

I have learned so much about grief and grieving in the three month since Jake left.  I have learned that no situation is the same and that no one, NO ONE grieves the same.  I've learned there is no right or wrong way to grieve.  Many people will offer their suggestions or share their story, but only you can decide what path is right for you.  There are no steadfast rules for grief, which is probably just as well because I don't follow rules well anyway, just ask my friend Susan!

I continue to be overwhelmed by the love and grace of God.  Today is three months exactly an hour ago, as I type since I walked away from that hospital room.  I still occasionally wonder if I'm doing it right and I am still aware of caring and wondering eyes watching, including those of my boys.  I continue to pray to be a woman of dignity and grace and I long for the day that I see Jake again.  I miss him...  I joke with God that He will have to let me see Jake first, when I get there, otherwise I might run past Him to get to my boy.  He knows I'm only joking... well sort of.