My Wits' End

Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds,

James 1:2

When I found out Brian, my husband, (who I affectionally call Big B) was in heart failure, I was sitting at my desk at work.  It was just a regular jungle-humid Kentucky day in August just before my birthday.  I was slammed with customers and phone calls.  I worked as an admin/ Inside Salesperson for a National construction supply company.  It was hectic, but the day went by quickly.  I worked in an environment where I was hit on all sides by strings of swear words in variances I had never heard in my life.  It was a wonder some of those strands of curse words didn't fly from my lips that afternoon.

B called my cell which was on vibrate- hidden, fluttering my pile of lumber orders and rebar specs. He tried to minimize the situation by saying he had an x-ray in the doctor's office and, well, it showed a "slightly enlarged heart and fluid in his chest."  His wife doesn't fall for mitigations.  I was hysterical when he muttered "heart failure" into the phone.  I would continue to cry for days until no more fluid would come from my eyes.  

I had never felt such brokenness like that in my life.  Not even when my dad decided to leave my mom.  When he sat us children down to tell us we were part of the reason he was leaving - we didn't "chore" well enough, didn't listen well enough, any excuse he could spew at us instead of the truth....

.....which is another footnote in my card file labeled, "Broken."

In any event, let's get back to the true, crushing brokenness I felt when I learned my husband might die.  I thought my heart might fail along with his.  My chest felt actual throbbing pain, my stomach was in knots and all I could do was lie in a state of agony for days and still try to be a mom.

Eventually, I had to face the extent of the damage to his body. We had to find ways to move forward, reading about coronary artery disease and Type II Diabetes, getting him moving, eating healthier, putting on a good face to remain calm for our son.

Little did I know, this time in my life would unfold a new me.  I wasn't angry with God.  Not once.  We began to go back to church.  B and I would pray together every night with our son before tucking him in.  We asked for health and strength.  I created a prayer corner in my art studio at home, affectionately named Whitt's End Studio.  My husband's friend came up with the clever name since it is our last name.

My prayer corner was/is sacred place to be at peace. I filled it with candles, incense and decor: icons of Jesus and wooden crosses, and notes.  I read my Bible by candlelight and put my face to my homemade altar, and I wept.  I felt enveloped in God's love.  I discovered one of my favorite scriptures when I was in my prayer space.  The writing literally smacked me in the face with irony:

Psalms 107: 23-30

23Those who go down to the sea in ships,

Who do business on great waters,

24They see the works of the Lord,

And His wonders in the deep.

25For He commands and raises the stormy wind,

Which lifts up the waves of the sea.

26They mount up to the heavens,

They go down again to the depths;

Their soul melts because of trouble.

27They reel to and fro, and stagger like a drunken man,

And are at their wits’ end.

28Then they cry out to the Lord in their trouble,

And He brings them out of their distresses.

29He calms the storm,

So that its waves are still.

30Then they are glad because they are quiet;

So He guides them to their desired haven.

God really knows how to catch my attention.  He is like that isn't he? He can tug at your heart while you're reading your Bible, in prayer, through words of wisdom from friends or loved ones.  He brings people to you sometimes.  Maybe in an encounter with a kind stranger who offers encouragement and prayers in the middle of the produce section at Kroger.  Yes, a man stocking produce knew my pain when I chatted about trying different veggies for my sick husband.  I was looking for baby bok choy and found an angel instead. 

He longs to be part of your life, to wrap his arms around you and meet you where you are: even at your Whit's End. So, let him!

Do you remember a time when you were at your Whit's end?

Did you seek God to bring you quiet and help you to your desired haven?

Photos: 

• My prayer corner

• The sign in my studio.

• He Leads, acrylic on canvas, created by me after my husband's illness.