Uh! My father chose me such a husband!
I’ve gone down in history as the great nag.
But does anyone consider my lot?
Reduced from wearing gold to wearing rags?
I grew so tired of all his fasts and praying,
And little good it did us on that day
When all our life fell into devastation;
We lost the farms and children anyway.
Is it surprising that I should grow angry,
And tell him to his face just how I felt?
We both knew God had sent the wild Chaldeans,
That He had covered Job’s body in welts.
“Curse this God,” I said. “You’re going to die.”
How wrong I was. Later, God did restore
All we’d lost. And though losing ten children
Broke me, He was kind and gave me ten more.
My three new daughters were stunning beauties,
And the seven boys grew into fine men,
But since I knew Job’s trials weren’t his doing,
I never really trusted God again.
November 20, 2010
copyright by the author