The summer of 2012, I was angry with God. I was angry that my wife had cancer. I was angry that our church refused to help us. I was angry that it felt as though we had been forgotten at a time when we needed the most help. For a brief time, Jaime shared in that anger. When I would get visibly frustrated, she would always say, “Please don’t use all your energy for this. I need you.” She would soon need me to dress, feed, bathe, advocate, and literally and figuratively lift her up when she was weak. But you know, I have to tell you, that there were these Saturday evenings, when Jaime would say to me, “I know you are upset. And I am confused. But can we go to Saturday evening service and just sit in the back for a while and listen to the music?” My eyes are just full sharing that with you. Jaime wouldn’t sing a word because she couldn’t. Her vocal cords were damaged somehow from her strokes and her ability to process was significantly slower, too. She would just sit in her wheel chair and listen. I was so bitter those days. You see, I didn’t stand or sing. I was so hurt, so mad at God. Didn’t He see she couldn’t stand up and move around? It used to be that during worship, you couldn’t keep Jaime still. She heard a beat and started moving! Her heart would be genuinely stirred and she would raise her hands and worship. But now she couldn’t. My heart broke on the inside.
I went back to church the second week of January. I stood in the same church where just a month prior, a group had gathered to celebrate and remember the beautiful life of the woman I loved. You know, the fact that this was the same place didn’t get to me as much as when the songs began. I joined in half-heartedly and then a thought ran across the marque of my heart, “I wonder what Jaime is singing right now?” Since that time, I can tell you there are few moments in church, when we sing, that I don’t think about how much more beautiful their services are in heaven. A few weekends ago, my mind went back to the final times Jaime was in church (here) and the fact that she was in a wheel chair and silent. Not anymore! She is up, dancing, and praising since December 6th! Those truths have changed the way I worship. Friend, we have an opportunity to know Him now – to show Him our love in such an incomplete way! This life is a dress rehearsal for the eternity that it is to come. I eagerly look forward to the moment when I will stand beside my Jaime again, before our God, joining together as we worship in spirit and in truth.