Sometimes Grief Comes in with New Dishes

This will be my last blog post on this blog, because I’m not writing these thoughts from a “shady hut” in Africa anymore: I’m writing from a cement front porch in front of a brick house in a city in middle America. Several months ago, I wouldn’t have imagined this day. Several months ago, I thought that the first time I would be “home” in America, I would be well into my 60s. But, here I am, just turned 50 a couple of weeks ago, and I no longer have a home in Africa or a shady hut under which to write blog posts.

In the midst of a worldwide pandemic, my husband tried to work through a number of details to find closure on 23 years of ministry in West Africa. How does one do that? He packed two heavyweight plastic containers to 50 lbs with sentimental things such as grandma-made afghans and quilts and cross-stitched poems. But, what he left behind was so much more than our hut, our furniture, and a kitchen full of dishes. He left behind our life. The life we, as a couple, have known so much more than life in America.

We were married 6 years before going to the mission field. When we got married, we knew we were committing to a lifetime of service SOMEWHERE, so when folks asked me about china patterns and monogrammed linens, I passed. I said we needed heavy-duty stuff, because it had to be able to be packed and functional, able to extend hospitality to whomever graced our front door. Now, here I am, about to celebrate 30 years of marriage to my college sweetheart, trying to figure out what dishes and linens I want to grace my home.

Sweet sisters in Christ said that they wanted me to register what I wanted on store websites and as I clicked “wedding registry,” it just felt funny. Well, I certainly couldn’t click on “baby registry,” I’m a grandma! But, as the days and weeks have gone on since my husband got home, the dishes provided by the very generous church in the home we’ve been living in ceased to be satisfactory. I felt ungrateful. Who was I to want dishes of my own? I scolded myself. But, it had to be done. So, I scrolled through page after page of dinnerware sets. I found some I liked and sent links to my husband. He said it would be best if we looked at them in person.

My son and husband went out to do a little shopping this afternoon, while I was sorting through clothes, cleaning, and organizing. After a couple of hours, I heard them clomp in the side door (they’re both over 6’ tall). He carried in a box with a picture of the dishes I had sent to him via message. The tears filled my eyes. I felt silly, but I couldn’t help it. When he set them down, I threw my arms around his broad, familiar shoulders, rested my head on one, and cried. Having dishes of my own didn’t seem like that big of a deal, but, as I considered all the things, all the people, all the everything that we’ve lost... a set of dinnerware was enough to make me fall apart. I have a new set of stoneware dishes in my cupboard. It’s not much, but it’s a start. A new chapter in our lives is just beginning.

Being a follower of Christ, and having lost a houseful of belongings twice in my adult life, I’ve learned what has the greatest value. It’s Him. I could have everything the world has to offer, but what I have in Christ… well, I can’t really put it into words, really. It is priceless. He is my Treasure. He is my All in All. I can relate so much more to Paul’s epistle to the Philippians now than I ever could before. He said in chapter 3,

“But whatever gain I had, I counted as loss for the sake of Christ.  Indeed, I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things and count them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which comes through faith in Christ, the righteousness from God that depends on faith— that I may know him and the power of his resurrection, and may share his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, that by any means possible I may attain the resurrection from the dead.”

I will carry grief and scars for the rest of my life on earth, but they are and will continue to be for the glory of Christ Jesus, my Savior and Lord. I think about how little I knew Him before and how much more I know Him now, how much I’ve gained, BECAUSE He let me suffer loss.

A set of dinnerware may have made me cry, as I thought about all I’ve lost. But, my eternal gain in Christ is something I know I can never lose.