Why Would He Be?

Events.

They tumble, faster and faster, overtaking, rolling us in like a tumbleweed. Our breath comes quickly, our hands reach out for a firm grasp, our eyes try desperately to focus on something, anything.

This week has just rolled us in and pushed us frantically ahead. Life in a small town has its’ dull moments, but this is not one of them.

My husband, a minister, must prepare two funerals this week. Today was the first, for a woman he knew in his growing up years; and he was up early, turning on the heat in the building, meeting with the funeral home and the family of the woman. There were meals to prepare, and family members to hug while smiling into their eyes.

Now tomorrow, he begins writing another funeral sermon. For a man he knew his entire life; who was a fixture in this small town as sure as the goat-heads that stick in your bike wheels. Tom. With his crooked back and gentle smile. A simple man, who came to love the Lord late, but faithful. So faithful.

Sunday morning, we had the privilege of welcoming twenty visitors in our small church building, bringing the grand total to forty. Hearts were light, spirits giddy as we reveled in the joy that comes from fellowship.
And Sunday evening, as we stood in the hallway visiting and laughing, Tom shook Kevin’s hand.
“It was just a real nice service this morning, Kevin, I want you to know that. We all got along just like…like…” And at his loss of words for a comparison, his wife, Claudia, hooked her arm through his and leaned on his shoulder, declaring, “Like peanut butter and honey!”

I don’t know why this drew my attention, but I found myself marveling at the light in her eyes, and the way he looked down at her and laughed. Married for almost sixty years, and she, with her red hair and always complimentary green eye shadow, captured his heart still.

We said good night, not good-bye. And oh, how I wish we had.

The tumbleweeds began to quiver as the wind blew through them.

Monday morning, Tom had a stroke at the breakfast table, and Claudia, always our prayer chain starter, called me with a shake in her voice. And as I stood with pencil poised, she told me that it was Tom who was in the ambulance, and she was following.

The tumbleweeds crept forward, the wind at their backs.

Kevin left immediately, and I started the prayer chain, then began school with the children, waiting anxiously for a call. Hoping, of course, to hear that everything was going to be fine. But the only one I received said it was not going to be fine, and Tom’s family was trying to get there as fast as they could, to say goodbye before time was up.

Kevin arrived home, weary, and then left again to meet with the woman's family for the first funeral.

The tumbleweeds picked up speed.

Tuesday, I tried to hold things together at home as Kevin made the hour and a half drive to be at Tom’s side again, but I felt the panic creeping in. The boys had terrible colds, and my heart was heavy for my husband; the week he was facing, and the loss as well.

And when he called, with tears in his voice, the tumbleweeds swept us in and blew away.

We haven’t been able to grip anything as we fly by. I can’t focus on Claudia without Tom. Our breath catches in our throats, and we cannot find our air.

But even as I tumble, I feel His breath. “I am not in the wind.”

Life Sustainer. Provider. Shepherd. Bringer of Peace.

He is not in the wind.

I don’t know why I thought He would be.

Peace is a Person. Not just a place.