Birthday (CaD Job 3) – Wayfarer
“Why is light given to those in misery,
and life to the bitter of soul,
to those who long for death that does not come,
who search for it more than for hidden treasure,
who are filled with gladness
and rejoice when they reach the grave?”
Job 3:20-22 (NIV)
One of the things that Wendy and I have noticed in our marriage is that birthdays are treated a bit differently in our families. In essence, the siblings in my family don’t really pay much attention to each other’s birthdays. I never expect to hear from them on my birthday, and I feel no expectation to do so for them. In our family system, birthdays are a thing between parents and children, but it doesn’t extend to siblings and their families. Wendy’s family, on the other hand, experiences an explosion of activity on the family text string whenever anyone in the family has a birthday. Everyone is in. Everyone celebrates, even if it is simply a text of good wishes.
Today’s chapter is the first we hear of Job’s thoughts as he sits on the refuse pile of broken pottery and the ashes from people burning their garbage. In one day he lost every one of his earthly blessings. His wealth was stolen by enemies. His children died in a natural disaster. Then, he lost even his health. As we begin what will be twenty-four chapters of conversation between Job and his three friends regarding his suffering, we find the emaciated, disfigured Job covered in his festering skin sores from head to toe, scraping at the sores with pieces of broken pottery. His friends have sat silently in commiseration with Job for seven days.
When Job finally speaks, the first thing he does is curse his birthday. The day that friends and loved ones gather to celebrate each year. The one day each year when every person is celebrated and made to feel special. Job, in his intense suffering, laments that he was even born only for his life to lead to this intense loss and affliction. What Job longs for, he says, is death. He wants an end to the pain.
“Why is light given to those in misery,
and life to the bitter of soul,
to those who long for death that does not come,
who search for it more than for hidden treasure,
who are filled with gladness
and rejoice when they reach the grave?”
This past year, a nurse sat down with my Dad and me to discuss my mother who was in memory care. What they shared with us is that my mother, painfully thin and living in the increasingly bitter reality of memory loss, showed all of the signs of someone who had “given up” on life. Like Job, she was on her own ash heap of life. She refused to eat, she began to sleep more and more, and she was increasingly life-less during her diminished waking hours. We agreed with the nurses recommendation to allow Hospice to take over her daily care.
I learned so much in the few months that followed. The wonderful nurses of Hospice taught me that there is a certain pattern and cadence that a person in my mother’s condition takes in the final stretch of her earthly journey. One of the hardest adjustments for me to make during this period of time was embracing her loss of will to live. When she refused to eat, I wanted to force feed her. When she slept all day, I wanted to get her up and make her take a walk with me. When she was awake yet seemed uninterested in engaging with me, I wanted to find some way, any way, to get some signs of involvement in conversation from her. The Hospice nurses taught me that forcing food, waking, and engagement was actually the worse thing we could do. I had to force myself to be content with reading Psalms to her when she was asleep, sitting silently with her and holding her hand when she was awake, and allowing her and her body to dictate what she needed each moment.
In the quiet this morning, I can’t help but think that in those few months I was not unlike one of Job’s friends. I read one commentator who, in referencing Job’s friends sitting with Job in silence for seven days, shared the opinion that they should have remained silent, foreshadowing the foolishness and unhelpful words they will utter in the following chapters.
Just this past week, my dad and sister and I spent a few days at the lake together. It was this past St. Patrick’s Day when our family celebrated mom’s life. Her body was cremated. She and dad have a cemetery plot where both their ashes will be buried, but we felt no rush to do this in the cold Iowa spring weather. We decided to put this off until it was warmer and we could gather as a family around the grave and celebrate to celebrate her and remember all the life and goodness she gave us.
While at the lake we decided on August 18th as the day we will lay her remains to rest.
August 18th is her birthday.
If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.
Wayfarer 