Rejoicing in Hope

 This will be my first Christmas since Steve’s death. It is a very tender time. I go out on my porch and watch the sun rise and listen to Handle’s Messiah. Grief allows me to listen with a depth I’ve never experienced before. 

As I rock back and forth I feel cradled by the love of God. I watch the darkness of night replaced as the morning star arises. Though my tears flow freely I feel the invitation to rejoice in hope.

Etched into my memory are my last moments with Steve. Watching him take his final breath watching as the pulse in his neck slowly came to a stop. Releasing him to the hope of the resurrection.

Today I was listening to Chuck Swindol and heard a prayer about when Jesus gave up His spirit in the cross. “Yes take him home my Father. Take the Prince to His King. Take the Son to His Father. Take the pilgrim home, He deserves a rest. Come 10,000 angels! Come take this wounded troubadour to the cradle of His Father’s arms! Farewell manger infant. Bless you Holy Ambassador. Go home death slayer. Rest well sweet soldier. The battle is over. Amen”

To rejoice in hope is to live in the now and not yet. I will not be able to enter into the merriment of the holiday season but I will be able to celebrate the truth that the baby who was born in the manger will come again as the King who conquered death!

 Child of My love, fear not the unknown morrow,

Dread not the new demand life makes of thee;

Thine ignorance doth hold no cause for sorrow,

For what thou knowest not is known to Me.

I threw away Steve’s toothbrush. When the bag was placed in the dumpster I had an overwhelming urge to dig through the garbage until I could find his toothbrush and put it back where it belonged. People tell me that there is no wrong way to grieve. That may be true but nothing about this feels right. 

Forty nine years ago I met Steve on a blind date. From that day on all my tomorrows included Steve. Now he’s gone. I found myself quoting a poem that I memorized when I was leaving home for the first time. I find in this poem a divine comfort knowing that what is unknown to me is known by my Heavenly Father.

Until Death Do We Part

“I Sarah, take you, Steve, to be my husband, and I promise and covenant, before God and these witnesses, to be your loving and faithful wife, I will live together with you in joy and in sorrow, in sickness and in health, until death do we part.” I was 21, Steve was 23 when we entered into this marriage covenant. On May 9,2022 our covenant ended when Steve’s heart stopped beating.

I took a magic marker on our wedding trip. Steve had cancer and was taking radiation treatment. Every time we went swimming together I had to redraw the lines where he needed radiation. On our first anniversary he had competed his chemotherapy. I worked during the day and took care of him at night. The stress and lack of sleep caused me to have a nervous  breakdown. He took care of me until I recovered. Our next anniversary was spent working at Yellowstone National Park. “I will together with you in sickness and in health.”

Steve was with me for the birth of our four children. We shared the miracle of life, and I watched him as he tenderly held his children. We both wept as he dug the grave for Belle Marie here on the farm. I remember his words of comfort as we placed her little coffin in the ground. “Time doesn’t heal all wounds, but God will.” He comforted me during the loss of two more children. “I will live together with you in joy and in sorrow.”

If the covenant I made so many years ago had only been with Steve, I don’t know if it would have survived. I failed him often. Our humanity and selfishness caused us to hurt each other in many ways. However this covenant was made with God as well. “The steps of a man are established by the Lord, when he delights in his way; though he fall, he shall not be cast headlong, for the Lord upholds his hand”(Psa 37:23-24)

I promised to love, comfort, honor and keep Steve as my wedding husband until death parted us. Death has parted us and for the first time in 48 years I’ll be alone on June 8, our anniversary. Even though Steve won’t be here to celebrate with me I will still celebrate. I will celebrate the life we built together in covenant with God and each other.