Sunday Scribblings #36 - "In the last hour..."

In the last hour she had lost everything.
As she sat in front of the rubble that was her home the only thing she felt through the shock was surprise.
Surprise that it took so short a time. An hour, a few bombs, and her whole life was gone.
Surprise that she, after all that, still had her life, while everything that made life worthwhile – husband, child, home – had disappeared under a pile of wood and concrete and clothes and pictures and toys and books.
She thought about Job, that old Sunday school story.
She wondered if Job had felt like this in the minutes he lost his whole life. Sheep, cattle, servants, kids. Everything but his nagging wife – the one thing he might have wanted to lose.
She pictured the scene: while one servant was still speaking of catastrophic loss, another servant, probably gasping for breath, gashes on arms, legs, head, eyes bulged out from fear, ran up to add his own chapter to the tragedy. Words stumbling like crumbling buildings.
“The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away,” Job had said. “Blessed be the name of the Lord.” She didn’t know if she believed him.
Someone from another life, the friend she snatched a needed cigarette break with at the hospital when the news came, took her away, saying words of comfort that didn’t mean anything.
She let herself be driven away, not sure if she was thankful for her life, wondering why that hadn’t been taken away. Maybe the Lord still had something left to give.