I’m almost there. You’re almost there. Truthfully, no matter the time in any of our lives, we’re all almost somewhere. My head knew that, but the rest of me learned it the hard way October 26, 2011—the morning my husband was killed 20 minutes after we kissed good-bye.
And just like that, our life together was forever and irrevocably changed. Because then he was there—celebrating in the presence of God and millions of angels, but I was still here—trying to remember how to breathe.
How do you know
what your life will be like tomorrow?
Your life is like the morning fog—
It is here a little while,
then it’s gone.
My best friend, encourager, partner in laughter and practical jokes, spiritual confidant, wonderful dad to our kids, and pastor husband for 33 years and 20 days instantly became part of my past instead of my present. And my thoughts began whimpering, and then sometimes loudly demanding to know —so who am I now?
When Dan performed a wedding, he’d say that in a really good marriage, a man and a woman are braided together with God “and a thrice-braided cord is not easily broken”. I can say, with unsought authority, that the ripping apart hurts like nobody’s business.
But God is still a good God. And I’ve discovered that sometimes I can see more clearly through my tears. Laughter has returned to my life. And my prayer for the rest of my time here is for the Lord to work through me to encourage the people in my life to get to know Him…because I really really really want them to spend eternity there.