“Then Job answered and said, ‘Even today is my complaint bitter: my stroke is heavier than my groaning. Oh that I might find him! That I might come even to his seat!”
The bouquet is still gorgeous. Fourteen red roses, clusters of white lilies, and Christmas greens. The family friend who I asked to deliver some flowers for our daughter went over and above in cheering both sixteen-year-old Holly and I. Holly found them on her chair, just as we had planned. She came carrying the bouquet to the door as I walked into the school. “Who are they from?” she asked.
“What does the card say?” I asked.
“It says ‘Love from Heaven,’” she replied, eyes questioning and misty.
“Well, who’s in Heaven?”
She didn’t answer, only hugged me tightly and let the mist turn to tears. We embraced for a long time, mother and daughter, desperately missing the man we both loved and lost. But it was time for her school Christmas program to begin. She carried the bouquet back to her seat. Heart warmed, I found the only seats left—in the front row of the auditorium.
I’d dreaded this night with its keen sorrow. I’d wondered and worried about how I might react. Now I found myself walking with friends to the front row. Me, the “new widow,” on display for everyone to see how I was coping.
I certainly wouldn’t have chosen the front row, but I found big blessings there. Seven empty seats were just the right amount for my family and a neighbor friend of mine. My four-year-old grandson climbed onto my lap and held my hands in the sweetest way. He rarely talks to me about missing his grandpa, but we don’t need to speak about it; we just know. When the lights were dimmed, his spell-bound attention soothed my sorrow. The nearness of family and friends helped me feel loved. The beautiful bouquet, and the blessing it brought my daughter, gave me gladness to alight beside the sadness. The front row seats afforded us undistracted attention to the songs being sung and those dear little grade school “sheep” who skipped onto the stage with white wooly caps and long, floppy ears. As my grandchildren giggled, I thanked the Lord for our front row seats and the love of family and friends.
And what of my God? He is the God of all comfort. He comforts me through flowers He created, through friends He placed in my life, and with front row seats when I don’t know they are best for me. Dreaded days can be given to Him. Oh, that I might find Him! That I might come even to His seat!