Missing Pieces

“Friends, why are you doing this? We too are only human, like you. We are bringing you good news, telling you to turn from these worthless things to the living God, who made the heavens and the earth and the sea and everything in them. In the past, he let all nations go their own way. Yet he has not left himself without testimony: He has shown kindness by giving you rain from heaven and crops in their seasons; he provides you with plenty of food and fills your hearts with joy.”

Acts 14:15-17

This is what Paul said to the crowd in the Lycaonian city of Lystra when the crowd reacted to Paul’s healing of a lame man by insisting he must be the god Hermes and Barnabas must be the god Zeus. The crowd wouldn’t listen to them. They brought bulls to sacrifice before them.  They wanted so badly to have their needs met their way instead of getting filled with the true God.

Sometimes I do this.  I know intellectually that God fills all my emotional needs, but sometimes I still want what I want my way.  For four years I have gone without a husband—without arms to hold me at night and someone to handle the pieces of life that a man usually handles like that other half of the couple I used to be the got invited to things, like repairs, finances, decision making, or just plain being my compass when I feel out of sorts about something.

Our children do the same thing.  Yesterday I spoke with a male friend of mine who has been widowed for two years.  As a single father of boys he asked me, “Kitty, do your teenagers cook for themselves sometimes?”  I laughed.  My boys heat up their own food many nights a week. I feel like I run a marathon a day just to keep up with four boys—the idea of a home-cooked meal by me sometimes feels foreign.  I do cook, but it’s more like once a week or so.  The rest of the nights I either heat something up, grab something from Subway, or the boys fend for themselves with the various ready-to-heat noodle or pizza dinners in the freezer.

My friend hesitated. “And they’re good with that?”

I felt guilty for a moment, but then remembered how content my boys are—no complaints about food.  “Well, they make a big deal about it when I do cook, but they don’t complain when I don’t,” I said.

My friend told me his son gets very upset when dinner isn’t prepared for him.

I thought about how it made so much sense.  His son lost a mother.  My children didn’t.  My children don’t miss the nurturing side of parenting. But they do complain about the male side of things.  My eleven-year-old constantly asks me to take him fishing or camping. And I don’t have an outdoorsy bone in my body!!!  I tried fishing with him and I was horrible at it. The lines got tangled and I found myself irritated enough that my attitude took all the fun out of it for my son. I clearly disappointed him!

Truth is, for my friend’s son who lost a mother or for my son who lost a father or for me who lost a husband, we’re all looking for the missing pieces.

When I notice one of those pieces missing, I sometimes run to my own devices to fix it. I ask my friends to help, and sometimes they can.

But sometimes they can’t, and then where do I go?  If I’m wise, I turn to prayer and surrender.

Walking the path of widowhood is like being picked up every morning by a gigantic invisible hand, as though I’m one of those tiny people in Gulliver’s Travels, and being gently plopped on the ground at the foot of the cross.  Few other trials in life are so long lasting.  It’s there with you for years to come, with all the implications of having to brace life alone hitting you every day.

Sisters, learn to turn to Him sooner.  Teach your children to acknowledge why they beg for certain things they lost from their daddy and be real that it’s a loss.  Don’t try to jump to fix it all for them, and don’t jump to try to fix your own missing pieces.  Sometimes just being real that it’s tough going without what you lost is the first step to turning to God to fill in those missing pieces.

My prayers for blessings to you as you go into another weekend with your Husband and Father God.