The widows and the fatherless

How often are the widows and the fatherless mentioned in scripture? Look out for those poor widows and judge the fatherless righteously. It’s there, over and over again.
Now I know who we are and why we need looking after. It isn’t just physical. It isn’t help with the bills at this house. It is spiritual and emotional and words I can’t even conjure up right now. It is hard.
I don’t want to pray right now. I don’t want to read my scriptures. Mike asked me to read the scriptures to him every night. And I did. He said we should set a time when we shut everything else down so we could read and talk. And we did. I don’t want to read without him. It’s an admission that he’s not here. I want him back.
I feel this wavering inside. And I know it’s false. I know what’s true and real for me, but it all shimmers without him to share it with. That’s crazy. It’s not what he would want, it’s not what I want. But I’m like a kid throwing a tantrum. I don’t care about rational. I want my husband back. Now. Not later. I don’t want my life to change. I liked it the way it was.
I was saying my prayers at bedtime. Thinking of the things of the day and I started talking to Mike. Then I started praying again, and I said I know I pray to you God, not to my husband, but I miss him so much. I want to talk to him tonight. And I realized I was a little upset with God. I don’t like his plan right now. I don’t like being alone in my house, not sleeping. I don’t like lonely and I don’t like worrying about the kids and why didn’t they see that life is serious and turn their lives around when their dad died? Why do I still have to worry about them too?
See what I mean? An emotional wreck. Look out for the poor widows. It’s not easy. And we put on our public face, we smile, but there is a big emptiness. The fatherless too. No wonder God tells us to judge these kids, big and small, with a righteous judgement. Maybe they do crazy things. They just lost their anchor. Give ’em some slack. Please. Just for awhile.
I don’t know how long that is. But fatherless doesn’t end very soon. Be patient with us. I’ll try to be patient with me too. And I’ll keep saying my prayers. It’s who I am.

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About Karen Hopkins

Karen Hopkins (1949-) was born in Los Angeles and raised in Martinez, California. At seventeen she moved to Talcahuano, Chile. After completing her university degree she worked in London, England for Pan American Airlines and traveled extensively throughout Europe, the Middle East, and India. For twenty-six years Karen taught Spanish and English as a Second Language in a variety of settings including a private school in Panama, the "most remote school in the United States" in Ticaboo, Utah, the Navajo Reservation, and a teacher exchange in Hermosillo, Mexico. Karen and her husband traveled extensively throughout Mexico and Central America, spending many summers in the highlands of Chiapas and Guatemala . Karen currently lives in Southern Arizona, near the Mexican border.
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