A couple or so weeks ago, my husband called me as he was leaving work to tell me he was on his way to Immediate Care center. “Now, don’t be alarmed, I’m ok.” I don’t know what it is about those particular words, but they never work. I thought my heart was going to stop. I tried to stay calm. I invisioned him on the side of the road, car turned over, bloody and all broken up, waiting for the ambulance.

He went on to say he had felt some discomfort in his chest and he was going to have it checked out. After hanging up, I prayed and continued to wait by the phone. I could not think, focus or move from room to room without a terrible dread. After seeing him clutch his chest a few nights before, I wondered if we were about to go through one big trial.

Had it not been for that previous incident, I may not have felt such awful dread. He ended up in the hospital, stayed one night, had some tests ran and tests came back good. However, they did attribute his discomfort as possible angina and sent him home with nitroglycerian. We both are very grateful that it was nothing worse.

While my husband was gone, I experienced such lonliness. My sadness was so great that no human being could touch it. Lonliness I have gotten used to, but not the kind I had that night. My very best earthly friend was not with me. The one who I have shared almost every single thought, desire, hope, heart break and disappointment for almost 25 years. A man who is able to listen, who understands me better than anyone on the earth, who can somehow find it within himself to put up with me, who has never abused me in any way, always kind, patient, never once raised his voice to me, a man who is such a complete opposite of me that it balances us both in a way that is both beautiful and practical for the two of us.

I love this man who God led me to. We are growing old together. He still compliments my looks, even when I am at my worse — He grins when I tell him he needs to get new glasses. He will eat some of the most awful slop I manage to create in the kitchen, when I will not touch it. He tells me it is good and I tell him he only says so because he’s too cheap to throw the stuff out. He is honest with me and will tell me I’m a little kooky at times, helping me to see I really am kooky. He likes to tell people his “wife is an artist.” Though I would differ on that. He’s not easily intimidated by me, like most men I’ve known. He knows my bark is much worse than my bite. Though he will take great pleasure in telling his friends I am his little bull dog. He unashamedly will tell other men, “she’s the mechanic in the family.”

Through him, I have been able to see that yes, gentleness is true strength. He is the one good with numbers and paying the bills, when my attention span is that of a gnat. He has been dedicated to the Lord since day one of our marraige, always faithful to rise early and spend time with Him in the Word. He’s calm, practical, logical, reserved, quiet, when for the most part I am none of those. He is as stable as a rock. People who know us both, know my husband is a wonderful man and they see how well matched we are in spite of being so different from one another.

I was lost the night my husband was gone. I went to bed that night without him by my side. Wondering if he would be with me soon or if the coming days would bring us stays in the hospital. Or if he would even come home at all. Our marriage from day one had been spent dealing with sick and aged loved ones. Starting with my father who had surgery after surgery, sometimes year after year. Then there were other family members. Some with Altzimers. Then his mother, then my mother. It had been an ongoing thing. Barely a reprieve until the next crisis would develop. My mother was the last. It has been about four years now that we have not had to deal with any such major events.

Laying in bed that night, I began to question my strength, my abilities, my stamina, my resources should we have to begin dealing with another what has always been to me, a life-stopping event. Already weak in many areas, I felt I was about to be pounded in the ground. Not able to rise above what might be needed if my husband were not well. I began to remember things that I would fuss about with him. “Don’t set that there, put it in the sink.” ” “What do you think this is, a barn? Shut the door.” “Hey, you got the ketchup out. How about putting it up?” “Whatta ya think I am, your maid? Pick up after yourself.” “You want to live in a pig sty? Fine!”

The one thing that I was remembering though was the constant kicking, jerking he does in his sleep. I looked over at his pillow and thought, “Oh dear God. Please bring him home to me. I won’t ever again kick him back.” I meant it — for the time, anyway.

Something within me cried out, “Help me not to forget, oh God, what this feels like!” As painful as it was, as lonely as it was … I did not want to forget. In the past, I would run to and fro doing my best to forget the pain and suffering that was in my midst. Yet, as hard as I would try, I could never escape it. It was always there reminding me of how miserable life was at the time. My trying to forget even made things worse. And there I was, asking, begging God to let me not forget this lonliness, this pain? Somehow it did not make sense to me.

Dear husband is home with me now and life has continued peacefully without any incidences. I’ve given it a lot of thought as to exactly what I was asking of God. I’ve not forgotten that particlar affliction of lonliness and pain. I’ve not tried to run from it. I guess in some strange unexplainable way, I have embraced it.

It is not a bad thing.

Teach me good judgment and knowledge,
For I believe Your commandments.
Before I was afflicted I went astray,
But now I keep Your word.
You are good, and do good;
Teach me Your statutes. — Psalm 119:66-68 —

You see, I had gone astray in my heart towards my husband. No, it wasn’t like I was committing adultery going out being with other men.  Nothing like that at all. It was the cares of the world, the darkness that has taken over the whole world had taken over me. I could not enjoy one minute with my dear husband because I was much too busy focusing on all the bad things. Yet, it was a type of adultery. So I will call it what it is — sin.

If a sinful woman can feel this kind of thing pertaining to just one night of being alone without her husband, should not the Bride of Christ feel so much more towards her Groom?

Are you apart from the Bridegroom doing your own thing? Have you let other things come between you and your Husband? If so, He wants you to know He still desires to have you back. His love for His Bride is forever.