My husband and I renewed our vows this last weekend. It’s been seven years since we stood before God and His witnesses to covenant together–our lives, our fortunes, and our future.
I am proud to be the wife of a great man. It is amazing that the best parts of him were exactly what I needed before I ever knew I needed them. His character, his personality, his adventurous spirit–all complement me in ways I did not fully understand when I said I do. Even now, I am still forever learning exactly why God led me to him and I am so excited to spend 60 more years living and loving with him.
I’ve thought of my grandfather often since this whole situation started. It ended with his passing on the 25th of July and a full military burial exactly one week ago. I was privileged to be a part of the ceremony–singing with my sister a song of hope and comfort. I am surprised I made it through the verses without breaking, but glad that I at last found my voice. It was an honorable passing though his last days were not. At the same time, I know that I and others fought well and did all that we could to bring him peace–and that will have to be enough.
It’s bittersweet as life continues to roll onward. I find myself catching snippets of his favorite tunes or getting weepy over a familiar card game. Yet in the same breath, I feel a sense of relief and comfort knowing–and having confidence in–where he is now. Someone attempted to offer me comfort from a rather humanist perspective without any aspects of faith or a future hope beyond this world. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that it was not the comfort he wished me to feel.
I’ve realized in the midst of this time of grief, the absolute comfort and peace my faith in God affords me. Others may scoff and ridicule what seems to be a foolish, blind trust. I, however, cannot afford NOT to have faith in the unknown, unseen God. It amazes me that such faith is a threat to others when it is supposed to be so very personal and peace-giving.
So life goes on. I feel the soft movements of the child in my womb as they grow and develop–my child, a gift from the God I trust. A reminder of life’s beautiful moments–cherished pieces of hope and legacy and the future.
My daughter and son grow and learn–each in their own unique and wonderful/frightening/amazing ways. Another reminder for me that faith is my anchor in the midst of an ever-changing reality.
My husband and I look forward to many years together–though life is not absolute, nor is it predictable. We enjoy each moment as it comes and pray for one more day in each other’s arms. We will accept the time we are given and be grateful for those precious moments.
I return to my writing, feeling the surge of creative movement once again. Oh, I have missed that in the past months and weeks of grief and stress and early pregnancy. I look forward to once more using the gifts God has given me for as long as my fingers continue moving.
And life goes on…