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As news of a different kind came her way,

quaking and disrupting all she holds precious,

as her body sank to the floor,

in violent sobs,

she pictured herself walking to the edge of the cliff,

standing with both feet so close,

ready to let herself fall.

After years of not giving up

and refusing to give in,

this great sense of wanting release,

this great yearning for release,

allowing herself permission to lean into the giant abyss of being done,

into the role of no longer caring –

Let someone else help…

to the place of not praying and not trying,

and not believing anymore.

And in her mind, while standing at the edge,

she understood.

Because maybe in the falling

her heart, her head, her aging body would find relief

from the tension and labor,

the constant tug-of-war and the heavy weight of defeat

and incompetence and human brokenness,

feelings she had endured so long,

trying hard to avoid difficulties and consequences,

to suppress unnecessary upheaval…

but somehow they found her.

Shattering every transient girlhood dream she’d dared to hope for.

And there, standing on the edge of giving in,

of wanting finally more than anything

to fall,

she came this close to Snapped.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Of the few closest individuals in her sphere,

in times past her nurturing heart had already been broken time and again.

Now, once more.

Seeing and suspecting things were amiss braced her for the inevitable in previous cases.

But in this most recent,

the shock hit her, unexpected.

And once again a mother’s heart is ripped out,

left to lie at her feet, shattered,

in pieces.

While in the wake of realization,

with no word for days,

from the one she has loved beyond any duty,

she too stands on the precipice, temped to give in

longing for the place of no more pain.

And she is this close to Snapped.

After years of work and sacrifice of self

and love in the hard times and the joyful times

and in everything mundane,

she never thought it would look like this.

It couldn’t look like this.

This is what happens to wives and moms who don’t give

and don’t know how to love,

whose time is spent on self and not on those closest to them.

But that’s not her.

So, where did this heartbreak come from?

This undeserved and unexpected heart-wrenching sorrow.

And how does she make it go away?


In dark reality, the Evil one stands behind her,

mocking, deceiving, suggesting as only he can.

Attempting to nudge her over the side,

into quitting,

and into the place of being Done.

Yet, in standing and contemplating,

in not giving in, her vision clears,

And empathy rises for those who’ve also stood at the edge.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Some say she’s too busy.

But in the obligation to live noble and right,

to glorify her Maker, become more like her Savior,

the lists of responsibilities keep her rising out of bed

and pushing forward through her days,

to accomplish tasks needing to be done…

Don’t they know, if her To-Do list was shorter,

if she had time to spare,

empty hours for only thinking,

how would she avoid temptation?

With time for herself how easy would it be

to close the door in the back bedroom

and curl up in a cold bed

to sleep the days away,

allowing her heart and mind and body wither.

(Understanding, this is why they take a drink or a pill,

and another and another,

and drift and float and fall a little quicker,

to a place where it doesn’t hurt anymore.

Where people cannot enter, where dreams do not disappoint, and  hearts cannot be broken.)

But in many ways, work and responsibility are what save her

from herself.

From listening to the enemy.

And giving in.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Have you considered my servant Job?

In this story maybe we forget:

those kids weren’t just his.

They were her kids, too.

And Job wasn’t the only one with questions,

with inner wrestlings pulling this way and that,

creating friction between Faith and Falling.

Job had a wife, whose entire world came crashing down,

along with his,

whose children died,

along with his.

Her babies.

Flesh birthed from flesh, torn and bleeding,

but willingly given up to the task of bringing into the world new life.

Braving the gates of death to usher in life.

I’ve heard Job’s wife criticized from pulpits.

Heard it, read it. But I cannot accept it.

Yes, Job rebuked his wife for speaking as the foolish women.

Maybe that’s our clue.

She wasn’t a foolish woman.

Not usually.

But she was a broken woman.

And she was just this close…

Their livestock, belongings, their farm and ranchlands, and her children –

all taken from her.


In one day.


No wonder…

Do you blame her for being tempted to voice a curse

and beg the death,

to stop her broken heart from bleeding dry and shriveling within her?

To make the hurt go away?

To be continued…