Call Me Mara

 

 

"Don't call me Naomi," she told them.  "Call me Mara, because the Almighty has made my life very bitter.  I went away full, but the Lord has brought me back empty.  Why call me Naomi?  The Lord has afflicted me; the Almighty has brought misfortune upon me."  Ruth 1:20-21

 

 

 

 

I love listening to the music channels on our television.  Whether we are just hanging out, eating dinner, or cleaning the house there is almost always music playing in the background.  Samuel, the Beatles fan that he is, prefers the 60's station; Micah, looking up to his big brother, prefers whatever Samuel prefers, and I love listening the contemporary Christian channel.  We alternate between between those two, and throw in some classical jazz and malt shop oldies when we need some variety in our lives. 

A few months ago while listening the Christian station, I realized that our boys don't really know the worship songs, or even the kids' Sunday school songs that my husband and I grew up singing.  This struck me as being very sad, and it has pushed me to introduce them to the songs that meant, and still mean, so much to me.

In the car we have been listening to a CD of children's bible songs, and slowly I'm starting to hear them sing along;  little voices drifting up to my ears from the backseat.  Even Jude is beginning to have his favorites, and when they are over he yells out, "TRY AGAIN!! TRY AGAIN!!". 

One of the songs on this particular CD is Father Abraham.  How many hundreds of times have I sang this song in my life?  "Father Abraham has many sons;  many sons has Father Abraham.  I am one of them and so are you, so let's all praise the Lord...". 

After about the tenth time hearing the chorus of children sing about Father Abraham, Samuel calls up from backseat, "Mommy, that song just doesn't make sense!  Abraham didn't have 'many sons';  he only had one son, Isaac.  It just doesn't make sense."

 

Ahhh, Samuel...my son who knows every story in his Children's Story Bible. 

 

I turn the music down, and begin to explain the promise that God made to Abraham; I talk to him about Sara, who is old and who doesn't believe she can really have a child;  I tell him about Hagar and Ishmael.  When I'm done he says, "That story isn't in my bible...why would that story not be in my bible???" 

So we talk about Sunday school stories verses the real bible stories.  I tell him that sometimes the real stories aren't so pretty;  the kid stories are meant to introduce children to God, and His story, but the real bible tells it all...good and bad.  "After all Sam," I say, "life is not always so pretty...things aren't always pleasant.  There is pain in this world, evil.  It can be scary and overwhelming." 

 

Micah pipes up, "I don't understand Mommy.  Why was it bad?"

Before I even realize it, the words come out of my mouth, "How would we feel if Daddy had another family with another Mommy?"

"No!" Micah yells, "That can't happen..we can't let that happen.."

"No, we wouldn't let that happen," I say.

 

And then Samuel, deep in thought over this new found knowledge speaks up, "Mommy, I want my bible to have the good and the bad stories...I want to know them all."

 

"That's because you're getting older Sam," I say, "With maturity we are able to handle the good and the bad, the pretty and the ugly...we can start to see how God works through it all..."

 

 

When Cory and I married, I chose two verses to cling to; to apply to our marriage, our marriage of separation and reunion, our marriage of constant moving and change.  I chose Ruth 1:16-17, "Where you go I will go, and where you stay I will stay.  Your people will be my people and your God my God.  Where you die I will die, and there I will by buried.  May the Lord deal with me, be it ever so severely, if anything but death separates you and me."

I love the story of Ruth.  Her love for, and faithfulness to her mother in law, Naomi, is amazing;  her determination to fulfill the commitment she made when she married Naomi's son...even after his death...is a true example of Godly love and strength.  She left her family, her people, and set off on an journey to a new land;  two women in search of their place in the world.  Ruth is all in;  there is no hesitation within her as she follows each and every direction Naomi gives her, save leaving Naomi at the onset of the story. 

 

I've read it, I know it, I love it, but there's more...  This is how I know the bible is "living and active": each time I go back and read the stories again, God reveals more of Himself to me.  I see things I have never seen before;  another layer peels back, and I get a little closer to the Center, to Him. 

 

There's another story.   After all, there are two women, and while the book is called Ruth, and much of it focuses on her pledge to Naomi, and her acts of living that pledge out, Naomi's story is there too. 

Naomi, who lost her husband and her two sons; Naomi, with a  name that means "pleasant", finds herself in a not so pleasant situation.  She is alone, she has passed the age of remarrying, she is at her lowest; her security is gone.  She starts out heading back to her homeland with two young women in tow, on the road she turns to them, and you can feel the desperation in her words, the depression, the hopelessness as she urges them to just leave her.  There is no reason for them to suffer, no reason for them not remarry and stay with their people;  "Return home, my daughters.  Why would you come with me?  Am I going to have any more sons, who could become your husbands?  Return home, my daughters; I am too old to have another husband...No, my daughters.  It is more bitter for me than for you because the Lord's hand has gone out against me!"

 

One turns back, but the other...she stays;  she will not be dissuaded.  Naomi, seeing that her pleading will not change Ruth's mind stopped talking and continued on;  maybe she thought, "why would this girl stay with me?  Silly girl...I have nothing to offer her."

 

As the women arrive in Bethlehem, the bible says "the whole town was stirred because of them" (vs 19).  The people want to know if it's really Naomi; after all of this time could it really be her?  Why is she home? 

 

This is where Naomi says, "Don't call me Naomi (pleasant)," she told them.  "Call me Mara (meaning bitter) because the Almighty has made my life very bitter.  I went away full, but the Lord has brought me back empty.  Why call me Naomi?  The Lord has afflicted me; the Almighty has brought misfortune upon me." 

She's a woman who is hurt, she's a woman who has seemingly lost everything; not blessed, not full, but empty and afflicted.  "Call me Bitter," she says, "why would you call me Pleasant?  My God has punished me, and I am spent, gone, hopeless."

 

At this I stop, and I realize that the story of Ruth is not complete without the story of Naomi; they are two halves of a whole.  Pain and bitterness, birthed from loss and fear, coupled with resolve and love born from a bond of commitment and trust that refuses to be broken;  this is the stuff of life, the beautiful and the wretched. 

 

You should take a minute to read the story of Ruth and Naomi, even if you  have read it and reread it before.  It's a beautiful story of redemption, of relationship.  At the beginning Naomi tells her friends  that she is bitter, and in the end they again call her pleasant;  it's a story about how God's plans are bigger than ours, and how pain and bitterness can pave the way for redemption and salvation. 

 

There have been times in my life that I have screamed out, "Call me Mara!...the Lord has afflicted me...";  the best part about my story is that God has shown me each step of the way that suffering always gives birth to new hope when we completely trust in Him. 

 

Maturity brings about the willingness to accept the good and the bad, the pretty and the ugly;  it opens our eyes, one layer at a time, to Him, to His work, our Weaver, our Giver of Life. 

 

 

 

 

 

 



 



Gone

I laid in my bed this morning listening the incessant noise blaring from the toy keyboard my two year old was playing with.  My heart was beating fast as if I had already had three cups of coffee, but the only thing racing through my body at that moment was fear. My heart was beating with the anxiousness that comes with suddenly being a single mother of three.  The deployment that has twice been delayed is now upon us.  The tearful goodbye came last night; the boys and I went to bed with blurry eyes and sinking hearts. 
I awoke this morning with that empty feeling in the pit of my stomach.  I spied the mason jar on my dresser filled with Hershey's kisses.  The tag on the jar promises me a kiss for each day my husband is away;  how I wish those wrappers held the sweetness that can only come from him. 
My mission for the day:  wash, dry, fold, and put away clothes that will not be touched for months.  Do I leave his shoes by the door as a remembrance that he is still with us in spirit?  Or do I put them away in the darkness of the closet, warm and snuggled with the rest of his belongings, in order to guard my heart from the loneliness that the sight of empty shoes can bring?  The closet is calling... 
I will clean the bathroom, clean the refrigerator, and make the beds;  I will attempt to put order into that which has been torn apart.   When we lose (even temporarily) a part of our bodies...of what makes us who we are...we suffer.  We adapt to fit this new half life, all the while knowing that we won't feel full again until he returns. 
I woke up this morning with a real understanding that, as of last night, my husband is gone. 

Let the count down begin...

Deployment is not something we chose;  the military life is not something anyone looks longingly at, and says, "I wish my life was that easy...".  No, it's hard.  It puts strains on families that no can understand unless they've lived it themselves.  It's a unique bitter sweetness that mixes pride with pain, and develops in the individuals involved strength and perseverance.  In many ways life in the military reflects that of life as a Christ follower;  there are ups and downs, pains and joys, separations and homecomings.  Sometimes we stay strong, and sometimes we fall on our faces, but in the end we look toward the goal and we ask for the strength to keep moving forward. 

Months from now, the boys and I will be anxiously pacing in a hangar waiting to hear the tell-tale sound of planes flying over head.  We'll see them race by in formation each breaking off, one at a time, to land.  They will line up on the runway, and on cue each will shut down their engines.  There will be a pause, a few beats of hearts about to burst, and then slowly the first boot will appear on the steps.  Within seconds we'll be running out to meet them, our flight suit clad husbands and daddies, and pain will turn to joy in an instant.  In some ways, the separation is the worth the reunion. 

This is the fifth big deployment in our almost 12 year marriage (this in no way counts the months of training, schools, etc., that have separated us in the times between deployments), but as I reflect upon my life I'm starting to think about the "deployments" I have taken in my walk of faith.  How many times have I said goodbye to my Savior, to my Father, in order to go out into the world on my own.  These deployments most often happen by choice, by the systematic removal of God from my everyday life.  Sometimes they catch my by surprise;  I walk along, suddenly look up, and the air goes out of my lungs as I realize He's gone... 
These deployments, being that they are of our own making, can be however long we chose for them to be;  they can be intense, or mild, life defining, priority adjusting, view changing, or heart hardening.  The thing about these kind of deployments is that God is never really gone from our lives;  He is with us always, and it is we who leave, we who start believe the lie that life is about more than following Him.  He allows us to go through these times, to see the world, and to feel the pain that comes from separation.  When we turn back to Him, His glory races through the clouds above us, and He lands before us revealing the beauty and sweetness of who He is;  it is in this moment that we feel the fullness of what we have come through, the sadness and the joy, the fear and the hope, and the ties of love that time and distance cannot break.  These are the moments in our walk with Him that define us. 

Deployments are hard, they are sometimes scary and overwhelming, and they sometimes feel hopeless, but through each day we can gain strength, grow character, and glorify Him as we walk, or sometimes crawl, toward the goal that awaits us. 

Thank God for the deployments and homecomings in your life, for the times that He never left you, and for the times that He once again filled you, and reminded you of what life is really about.  Hold on to the sweetness of those moments...they are water that quenches your soul when the dry times come;  they are they hope that keeps you moving forward. 

"...we glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not put us to shame, because God's love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us."  Romans 5:3-5