This afternoon the slanted sunshine of winter spilled through our windows. While the rest of the country gathered chips and dips in preparation for the Bears-Packers game, I decided to do something different: paint a couple of stools in the bright sunlight. They’d been primed for six months awaiting their finishing coat, and today was as good a day as any.

Though I don’t have TV, I could have listened to the game on the radio but chose worship music instead. Following football might have been a better idea, however, because when Nate’s favorite hymn, “Blessed Assurance,” came on, I got weepy. Even bright sunlight doesn’t help watery eyes see brush strokes very well.

Bagging the brush and picking up a hymnal, I decided to follow the words as the familiar song played. “Visions of rapture now burst on my sight. I in my Savior am happy and blest. Jesus is mine! O what a foretaste of glory divine!”

Although these words had run through Nate’s mind hundreds of times, their meaning for him now is completely different, more authentic, tangible. Something about that struck me. He was far away experiencing a life radically different than mine. We had much in common until 15 months ago, but now we share very little. Today I’m painting stools. What is he doing?

Sitting in front of me on the coffee table was the book my kids gave me in September, the story of Nate’s life in pictures and words. As precious old hymns played, I read through the book again, feeling intense sadness that Nate was gone. It’s been quite a while since I cried hard, but as I carefully studied his face, especially in the most recent pictures, holding back sobs was impossible.  

Oh to go back! I really miss him. Did I love him enough? Had I put him first? Could I have done more?

I… I… I.

It was self-pity for sure, which doesn’t do much for healing. If anything, it produces inertia. My crying was a good reason to ask God, “What would you like me to think right now?”

He answered with something he’d already told me. “Rejoice always. Pray continually. Give thanks in all circumstances.” (1 Thessalonians 5) I was thankful he brought that up again and gave me something positive to do immediately. Focusing back on the book, I continued weeping but this time found myself rejoicing in the picture-memories and being thankful for all Nate did as a husband and father.

When I came to the photo of Nate sitting in a wheelchair with severe pain on his face, I cried hard remembering his suffering but was enormously thankful for how courageously he bore his pain, a great accomplishment.

As the Bears and the Packers battled it out on the other side of Lake Michigan, the Lord and I sat together for two hours, listening to hymns, rejoicing, talking in prayer and remembering Nate with thankfulness.

Tomorrow, as the Bears nurse their wounds, I’ll finish painting the stools.

“My heart rejoices in the Lord! The Lord has made me strong. There is no Rock like our God.” (1 Samuel 2:1a,2b)