Aug 28, 2012
one beautiful day, two good men
from a journal:
"God is very kind to us. we found out yesterday that your jaw isn't broken, your eeg results were fine, and they cancelled your plastic surgery appointment tomorrow because your wound looks so good. also, this morning you were coughing as if maybe you were going to throw up, so the nurse asked you if you were ok and you said "uh huh." they asked you again and you did it again! God is so kind. and you did it in front of two head nurses and your doctor! i'd been praying that you would get your voice back soon and it seems as if you are well on your way. God is very gracious to us. you were really awake for me today. you were working really hard to bring your washcloth to your face, even when the therapists were done asking you to do it."
this voice did come back, even in a very tired body. and this meant that things could change.
"trusting God - the story of my walk with the Lord this far. last night steve had a long talk with me and then with Ian about marriage. we're starting to talk about it more seriously i guess. it makes me really nervous and really excited at the same time. i really believe though that ian needs to be in a different place physically for our marriage to work. but then again, what will that look like? what exactly are we waiting for? i'm not sure. but it's weird to think that we could be married soon. it's all wonderful, but if ian stays the same as he is now, it certainly won't be what we imagined it to be.
but when i look at my life through the lens of the gospel, marriage to ian looks very sweet and wonderful, even if we were to be married tomorrow. God has given me a deep love, joy and attraction to ian, that has only increased in the last three years. when i am away from ian, i want to die. not literally, but i don't enjoy it. and nothing brings a smile to my face like seeing ian, and hearing him talk, and hearing him laugh.
all of this talk though forces me onto my knees at the foot of the cross, acknowledging that i have absolutely no idea what is best for my life or ian's, or what would honor the Lord most. so we will keep praying."
we did keep praying. as did steve. and then cancer came. and steve went. but not before he taught us to take marriage seriously, and to keep God big in our minds.
we did. on his birthday in 2010. two years ago today. standing at the top of the hill, my arm resting in my dad's elbow, a quick breeze came through the corn stalks rustling behind us. the sadness of his absence welled.
my dad walked me, both weak, unsure but happy, toward my waiting, disabled fiance. the summer air greeted us and i'm sure God was there in it. my sweet, sweet ian, he was there. so very happy to marry me. my best friend. next to his best friend, who helped him to stand. and we met God there and we said yes.
i dont know if we have birthdays in heaven, but steve you are so missed by us. today, but always.
and ian, you may not read this unless someone reads it to you. but nothing here is a better gift to me than you. and no words describe what you do for me and my heart. through oceans of grief and loss, from being trapped in that car to now holding my arm as you fall asleep, you are a delight. thank you, for not being afraid of what you couldn't do as a husband, for not choosing to give up, for somehow loving me. you every day help me to want heaven more.
the words you sang to me on my voicemail, weeks before your accident, are a ditto:
I can't see me lovin' nobody but you
For all my life
When you're with me, baby the skies'll be blue
For all my life
i love you. and our two years. may many more follow.