December 15, 2014 - Serious Struggles

I remember . . . her hazel eyes captured me so easily. I loved to make her laugh, and smile, and just . . . be happy.

Christmas tree and village

I sit in the dark now and gaze at the brightly colored lights on the Christmas tree and the tiny village nestled under its branches. She loved the miniature houses and model trains.

The room is filled with the fresh scent of pine, and I smile as memories of past evenings with her in front of the tree fill my thoughts.

But her quiet giggle, her tender hugs, and her sweet kiss no longer warm my heart. The memories are only memories . . . memories of a time I would give anything to revisit for a day, an hour, or even a moment.

It seems like only yesterday that she touched my hand and our love was kindled. It feels as if that first kiss under the oak tree was only last week instead of being so many years ago.

Quiet is good sometimes. It allows me to collect my thoughts and reflect on what’s important. And what’s important now is different from what used to be.

As I focus on what God has in store for the future, my heart aches for her. But in the sorrow, I fondly recall a poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson written in 1850.

I hold it true, whate’er befall; 

I feel it, when I sorrow most; 

‘Tis better to have loved and lost

Than never to have loved at all. 

Spend time with your spouse. Make it count. Cherish the moments and hold them close to your heart . . . forever. Treat this as the last Christmas you’ll spend together. You don’t know the plans of God. It could be.