After seven years, with my HD replaced once, my computer quit. Even after Apple specialists tried, they couldn’t retrieve data from my hard drive. Instead of my hopes, I realized my worst fears. When I spoke with the salesman, however, I found he knew a way to retrieve the main material (by iCloud). I still have that to do, but at least I have a plan. I feel greatly relieved.
Well, now I’m blogging with my new machine. My grief at the loss of my old (called “vintage” by one technician) computer is somewhat assuaged by my possession of a brand new machine—nice looking and works very smoothly. Now the problem is my loss of the money I have to cough up to pay for it. So that’s a loss, but I do have the resources to pay.
So our grief ebbs and flows. We lose, and then find consolation, only to find we’re not over it after all. We struggle to adjust to the new situation, but then feel flooded with new reminders of our losses.
Job underwent similar struggles. He cycles through depression, bitterness, rage, and longing for death over and over, until, in chapter 29, he expresses his sadness over his losses. He misses God’s light in his tent and his “boys,” meaning employees or, perhaps his sons.
When he finally does grieve, however, he’s flooded with one last speech of protest (Chapter 29), one last recounting his public shame (Chapter 30), and one last-ditch effort to pry God loose from his hiding place (Chapter 31).
Those steps (and a few others), however, lead Job eventually to a new life. Maybe you’re also facing loss. Maybe you are going through some of the same phases Job did. I don’t know where you fit on the time line, and I don’t want to give false or premature hope, but grieving loss can lead to a new life.