Widow's Journal

I have looked at the first two of the six portions measured out to Ruth for her mother-in-law, Strength and Hope. Both are necessary in healing for a widow. For the third portion, I want to turn my attention to the importance of Comfort, the soothing of the brokenness of grief and loss.

As Naomi and Ruth draw close to Bethlehem, it is barley harvest time. From what Google tells me, it might have been the month of Nisan or March. And they were the talk of the town! In fact, Ruth 1:19 says the whole town was excited about their return! Local ladies whispered, “Is this Naomi?!” Now the name Naomi means pleasant or gentle. At once the bereaved Naomi speaks up to remind the crowd, “Don’t call me Naomi. Call me Mara for the Lord God has made me very bitter. I went out full, but the Lord has brought be back empty.” Bitter. Empty. No longer feeling the pleasant or gentle meaning of her given name, her healing hasn’t happened, and she interprets it as God’s heavy hand on her. What had been her life as a wife and a mother is now in ashes and she’s simply looking for a familiar place to land, looking for “home”. That can be a hard place to find as a widow. What had been home may no longer feel the welcoming place we remember. Life is not the same and never will be, and like Naomi, trying to find something familiar or home-like can be a challenge. Comfort had escaped her.

Comfort for a grieving person is like water for the thirsty, a salve for the wounded, and food for the famished. When every part of one’s mind, heart, and body aches from loss, we crave comfort. In 2 Corinthians 1: 3-4, we read that God “…the Father of mercies and God of all comfort who comforts us in all our afflictions, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted.” So, we can be assured that comfort in our hour of need is coming, and it arrives with a mission: we are to provide in kind to those around us who are suffering and need comfort. Understanding how God has met us in our time of mourning, we will want to show others where real comfort comes from. It swings the lens away from me to focus on offering comfort to another hurting person, just as the Lord did for me. I’m thinking of Ruth, likely still feeling the loss of her husband, but upon arriving in Bethlehem, the tables turn, and she begins to think of ways she can help her mother-in-law who is still reeling from the pain of widowhood as well as the loss of both of her sons. We can sense the beginnings of healing as we begin to reach outside our own loss to help someone else heal.

Throughout the Word, there are many reminders that God cares for the hurting. Psalm 34:18 reminds us that, “The LORD is near the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit.” From the fresh, raw early days of being a widow, I knew how truly this verse played out and it provided the comfort I needed, the nearness of the only One who really understood what was happening in me. Again, in Psalm 147:3, it says “He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.” His triage ministered through the Widow’s Fog, and shock of losing my other “half” and recognizing that although I was now an amputee of sorts, I could trust Him, that He alone had healing. And I could not ignore the fact that I was being comforted. Through His promises, through constant casting it all on Him as I Peter 5:7 says, I knew He was caring for me.

Naomi had taken exception to her name, and instead wanted to be called now by how she was feeling. She no longer felt pleasant or gentle; she felt bitter at the way her life turned out. And she’s blaming God for dealing harshly with her. As a widow, we often struggle with identity in our loss and all the subsequent secondary losses we come to realize as time rolls on. As a wife and mom, perhaps she had felt gentler about her role. Now, she feels stripped of all comfort, and tells the folks to call her “Mara”, or bitter. In the absence of what we perceived ourselves to be, this new season feels harsh, unfair, and brutal. So we lament. The book of Psalms records many laments, crying out to God in anguish: Why do You stand so far away? (10) Why? (22) How long? (13) You have rejected us! (60) (74) And yet, in the pouring out of anger, sadness, weeping, the LORD shows up to bring comfort and assurance of His presence. We do that, too, as widows, pouring out the angst of what we wanted to keep, exchanging what was once “comfortable” for the comfort of the Almighty’s hand on our ragged soul. Some days it’s a hard exchange, opening our hand to yield what we’ve lost, to gain what is holy. On those “Mara” days, we simply must choose to lean in on and trust the Sovereign One, accepting His comfort, for Hebrews 13:5 reminds us, “…because God has said, I will never leave you; never will I abandon you.” We may lament and lash out at the “unfairness” of loss, but even then, we know God is Sovereign, He is always there, always faithful, always loving. Everything is in His faithful hands. There is nothing that comes our way unless it’s passed His plan for us. Nothing. Indeed, we can trust that “The eternal God is your refuge, and underneath are the everlasting arms.” Deuteronomy 33:27 (NIV). He’s got us, and He will never let go. And that’s a comfort.