Several years ago my husband, George, died of complications following
an automobile accident. Ours had been a long, happy marriage, and his
death left me deeply depressed. As time passed, instead of being
grateful for all the wonderful years we'd shared, I became engulfed in
self pity. Often I pray, "Lord, why didn't you take me first?"
When I broke my leg a few weeks before my ninetieth birthday, I felt more
confined--and alone than ever before. "If only George was here," I despaired,
"he would chase away the sadness with words of wisdom and encouragement."
On this particular day, I decided to call a friend and ask her to
visit. Unfortunately, she was leaving on a trip and couldn't come.
I understood. But as I hung up the phone, tears started to flow. I moved
to the window to sit in my favorite chair with Duke, my beloved cat,
curled up in my lap. "Dear God," I prayed, weeping, "Please give me the
strength to get through this hour."
Get your Bible, a quiet voice inside me nudged. But my Bible was in the
bedroom, and with my leg in a cast, it would be too hard to retrieve. Then
I remembered my small travel Bible. Hadn't I seen it on the living room
bookshelf? I found it and opened it, surprised to discover that it was
George's old travel Bible instead of mine. They looked alike, and I thought
I'd given his Bible away.
I turned the pages until I reached my favorite Scripture. Suddenly a letter
fell into my lap. Carefully I unfolded the yellowed pages. It was a love
letter from George. In it, he expressed his deep affection for me. His
words of comfort went straight to my lonely heart.
My cheeks wet with tears, I continued to leaf through the Bible. In the back
pages I found more notes from George. According to the date, he'd written
these in the hospital prior to an early surgery. He must have feared that
he would not return home. After he recovered from the surgery, the letter
and notes were forgotten.
But no, I realize. They were not forgotten. God knew exactly where George's
words of comfort were hidden--and exactly when I'd need them the most.
Laughing some and crying some, I spent the rest of the afternoon basking in
the company of both my husband's letters and my Lord. I never felt less
alone, and now I knew for certain that I never would be.
By Lucille Heimrich