Shattered Pages

Shattered pages….

I watch as the pages fall as if everything is in slow motion. The highlighted pages look like autumn leaves as they flutter to the floor. On the wall, there is a slight indention left by the spine. The spine had broken on impact releasing the pages into the air. On the floor lies what was once a source of comfort but had been turned into an object of wrath.

To understand one must go back a few hours. Back to the desperate searching for something that would help this make sense. Back to the moment after the phone calls were made, received. Back before I had to tell our younger two children that their father wasn't coming home. Back to the beginning of the end of life as I knew it. Back to the moment my very foundation was shaken, and I felt as though I would shatter into a million pieces. Back to the moment I was told J. wasn't coming home. Back to the knock at the door.

Up to that point in my life, I had not encountered anything so traumatic. There had been a few health scares with the family. A few things that cause life to be crazy and out of control for a bit. Up to that point, I have never asked God for comfort or sought comfort and felt that He wasn't listening or that He didn't care. That night, I couldn't feel God. I couldn't hear God. I just couldn't. I mentally called out and felt that I was placed on "eternal hold" or that I was getting His voicemail and hearing that the voicemail box was full. So, I went to my Bible. Surely, there will be some comfort there. Surely, I will hear or feel the presence of God there. Surely all those years of study, memorizing and quoting there would be something to offer me comfort. Something to show me how to make sense of this, this……I don't think that there is a word for how I felt. Devasted, annihilated come close…

As flip through the pages searching the scriptures, I'm not finding the comfort I seek. I couldn't find the book of John. Not the l, ll, and lll Johns, no I couldn't find JOHN. John with twenty-one chapters. St John that comes after Matthew, Mark, and Luke. I couldn't find Ecclesiastes. My favorite book of the Bible. I couldn't find Job…. I could find phrases like "Clap your hands with Joy," "Sing praises to the Most High," "It is well with my soul." "All things work together for the good…"

NO" my mind, my heart, my everything shouted. "It is not well with my soul. It will never be well. I will never be joyful. I will never be happy. Why should I sing praise!!! My Husband is gone! God took him. I should have had more time!" At this point a rage like none I have ever felt consumed me. I felt that I had been let down. God wasn't there. No one was there. I only had my Bible, and it was useless. It kept showing me the wrong things. It was faulty. It was damaged. It needed to be destroyed. So, I threw it.
I threw my Bible. Across the bedroom and into the wall. As soon as I release it, I wanted to take it back. To bring it back to me. It felt as though I hadn't just thrown my Bible, but I had thrown my faith across the room.

As I watched my Bible hit the wall, contort, then burst into loose pages. I felt as though my faith shattered just like those pages. At that moment I felt like my heart was shattered and I had just destroyed my faith. I felt that there was no hope. No going back. No going forward. I felt like my whole being was just as shattered as my Bible.

I stop. I stare. I begin to breathe. Slowly at first because it hurt so bad to allow myself even to contemplate living pass this night. I started to talk. Out Loud. "What do I do now?" And heard a very clear voice say, "Gather yourself." I ask almost hysterical, "How do I gather myself? Where do I start?" And I look to the pages.

My Bible had hit the wall with such force that when I remodeled the room three years later, I had to use a plaster patch to cover the indention before I could paint. It had slid down the wall and lay mangled and twisted next to the loose pages. The spine had broken and released pages from 2 Chronicles through mid-way through Acts. There were what seemed like thousands of pages on the floor.

As I looked at I what I had done, I asked: "What do I do?" Again, I heard," Gather yourself." Being human and quite possibly certifiably crazy at that point, I begin to clean the rest of the house. After all, people would be coming by, and things must be in order. I cleaned until the point of literally blowing up my vacuum. (In my defense, had the spider not built the cobweb so close to the curtain I would not have sucked it into the beater bar.)

So, as I'm sitting there trying to remove the curtain from the vacuum, I hear the voice again, "Gather yourself." I decide at that point that I need an actual screwdriver and not a butter knife, so I go to the bedroom to get the one I keep in my drawer. (I'll write about that later)

I step into the room, I am once again faced with the results of my anger. I sit on the edge of my bed and just stare. I must have fallen asleep because that was the first thing I saw when I opened my eyes the next morning the next morning. The Bible. The pages. Everything came crashing back.
But I have no time to dwell. I must get things ready because I had made arrangements last night for J's boss and co-workers to gather his work equipment before my trip back to SC. I also must make arrangements for a car, a pet sitter, dry cleaning…cleaning. There is a list of things that must be done. I start cleaning again. After the front rooms are cleaned, I know that I should at least make the bed in the bedroom because that is where the work computer and files are that need to be picked up.
Entering the room again, I see the pages still on the floor. The Bible still splayed awkwardly against the wall. How do you dispose of a Bible? What is the protocol? Do you just trash it? Take it to the priest/preacher? I decided that I would just put the Bible and pages in a shoebox and decide later how to "decommission" a Bible.

One by one, I pick up the pages. Some have highlighted passages and notes -yes, I write in my Bible- and some are just the words with no notes or highlights.
The first page I pick up has a highlighted verse, John 14:26-27 26: "But the Advocate, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you all things and will remind you of everything I have said to you. 27 Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid."

The next, Psalm 23:4 4: "Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me." I had written in the margin. "You are never alone even when you feel lonely."

The next, Ecclesiastes 3: 1-8: "There is a time for everything…." I had written in the margin, "Circle of life. Birth, Death and taxes."

The next, Matthew 5: 4: " Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted." In the margin, "God's got your back, let your friends bring the tissues."

Page by page, the verses came to me. Page by page, I gathered myself. I eventually picked up my Bible and myself off the floor that morning. I began to reconcile that I had a new role in life. I had to choose how I would proceed from that moment forward.

My first stop after picking up the rental car was the Christian bookstore. And I began the daunting task of picking out a new Bible. I needed one that would fit in my hand. That was comfortable to read. I needed one that would help me move forward. I needed a new Bible for my new normal.
I actually attempted to put the shattered Bible back in order but found that like me, it wasn't the same as before. It was battered and bruised. Nothing sat right within its cover. So, I left it in the shoebox. And for the first few months of my grief journey, I kept it in the drawer next to my bed next to the screwdriver. When I thought that I was going to break and that there was no reason to carry on because it was just too painful and just too hard, I would look at the shoebox. And in my mind's ear, I would hear His voice again, "Gather yourself."