no replacement

I played Life with my boys today. You know, the board game that takes 15 minutes to set up and then another 5 minutes to resolve the fight over who gets the blue car? We got it for Christmas. It's not as sturdy as the version I used to play with my sister growing up. The blue/pink people are tinier and forever flying out of their car at the slightest bump. And with five sets of hands trying to move stuff, that's a lot of bumping.

At one point, L's car (the blue one everyone wanted) got knocked off the board and onto the rug. I picked it up, found his man and the man's wife under my boot and put them back. Then L said, "My twins? Where are my twins?!"

Sure enough, his twins were gone. After a few minutes of searching with no luck, he said, "That's ok, I'll just get some more twins." Then proceeded to stick another two blue figures in his back seat and finish his turn.

It wasn't until several hours later, with kids in bed and while picking up my bedroom, that I really started to put his statement together within the context of my life.

I got to thinking about my father-in-law, Dad P., who suffers from a disease that is a mix of Alzheimer's and Parkinson's.  He's doing much, much better than anyone thought at this stage, but he's still getting progressively worse...as progressive diseases tend to make one.

I love him dearly. Mom P., too. They've continued to love my like their own daughter, even after the divorce. I thought about the first time I met Dad P, coming home from college with Brad for the first time. Dad was dressed in a peachy-pink bathrobe he got from a hotel in Kuala Lumpur. I thought of him a few years later, on the roof of Brad and I's first house, helping put up Christmas  lights while I watched from the porch with new baby Z strapped on the front of me in his carrier. The way Dad doted on each of our boys and gave them silly nicknames. How much I admired about him, how proud I was to have married the son of such a man. And those thoughts naturally led to Brad and wondering how he must be dealing with losing his father.

My heart suddenly softened, worried for him the way I used to worry about him as his wife. It's been a while since it did that. Went really soft towards Brad.

I found myself down on my knees beside my bed, praying for him. Praying for Dad P, and for life's unpleasant situations in general-- all the while feeling a mix of gratitude for what I had and sorrow for losing it, seemingly so unnecessarily.

Then I remembered L's twins statement. And it brought to mind a new thought... Job.

Job is one of those Bible stories I've spent a lot of time trying to make sense of. On one hand, I admire his deep yet accutely human faith, patience, and tenacity. On the other hand, I never understood  how he could get over "stuff" so easily--I mean, replacing your lost house and cows with a new house and cows is one thing. But it sounded like Job got himself some new kids and that they were somehow 'equal' to the ones that got flattened in the falling house. I didn't really get that.

I chalk it up to, after 42 chapters of sorrow, just needing to wrap the story up happily. And it sounds like those new kids of his were pretty hot, especially Keren-happuch. I mean, how could you not be hot with a name like that? But really,I think we know: People aren't...replaceable.

If I should ever marry again, that man won't really be replacing Brad. Not in the sense that I ever see myself saying, "Yesiree, second marriages are where it's at! Everyone should just get through that first one as fast as they can because it's the second (or the third?) that will really stick!"

I still think divorce is terrible. Like every nasty thing that's happened in my life, I would rather not have had it happen. I mean, yes--I've learned a LOT being put in this situation. Yes--I'm probably a better, stronger, more empathetic human being because of it. Yes--my faith has both deepened and simplified. But enduring the initial heartbreak and the continuous nursing of the wounds and scars isn't pleasant, no matter the outcome.

It was said of Job that, "the Lord blessed the latter end of Job more than his beginnings...and he died being old and full of days."

At the end of the Life game, I retired to my mansion--an artist and millionaire several times over. I had received the Nobel Peace Prize, written a best seller, climbed Mt. Everest,won a TV game show, and invented a new ice cream flavor.

And what of me--in my real life? Do I desire my latter end blessings? Of course. But I've come to realize that those might not be in such a dramatic before/after way as Job's. I can see them coming now, slowly but surely, in small and steady ways. That's good enough. Sufficient to ensure I continue to trust it will all be ok in the end, no matter what.

But I do know that whatever comes will be a layer blended into the life I have already lived, not one that sits on top of it. Not a replacement. But rather evidence of what steady faith, commitment, and determination will produce. Evidence, I pray, that good things do, eventually, happen to good people.

*I'll get through this..."this" being the end of my life which will hopefully be 'full of days.'

Also, if the Nobel Peace Prize or the ice cream flavor invention happen to come up--I'd be ok with that, too :)