The 52nd Wednesday

We count the days till Christmas or our birthdays (at least when we’re young), or till our children come home for a visit (when we’re old), but I think the only time we count the days  from something is death. For the past year, I found myself counting the Wednesdays…since it was on a beautiful Fall Wednesday morning that the Lord called my husband home.

Wednesday for me is a church day, as it marks the night of prayer meeting, but once Raouf left me, it was also the day my life changed. I began counting the Wednesdays, but found as the weeks became many, I had a hard time adding them up. I moved on to marking months. Now, I find myself facing the last Wednesday of the first year of his death.

Tomorrow is the 52nd Wednesday in this grief journey. No more counting the weeks or months…I will have moved on to marking the years. Though, if my dear, wise husband were sitting here next to me, he would say: “Let the dead bury the dead. Remember what the Bible says…’We do not mourn as those who have no hope.'” He’s right, I know. But whether he would approve or not, I still miss him and have to face this Wednesday thinking of that first Wednesday — I just can’t help it.

However, I will not face it with my head in my pillow, refusing to get up — No, the God I believe in and follow will give me the grace and strength to get up, get dressed, go to work, and live — of that I am confident, because He has been my strong deliverer through these last 12 months. I will look forward to seeing my sons as well, who remind me that there is so much in life to look forward to. I will go to my sister’s for the evening meal and end this 52nd Wednesday celebrating Thanksgiving with family, and being truly thankful.

Will I stop thinking of Raouf on Wednesdays after tomorrow — hardly, but I will be able to continue living, even when I completely lose count. I never was good at math, but I am so glad my God is good at comfort.

Grace and Peace


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