Here Comes the Rain

Things caught up with me last night. I put the boys down, went driving around, ended up in a theater watching Delta Farce. I was the only one in there, and I knew why; the movie was awful. So I left after about 20 minutes. As I was cruising around, a song came on that we absolutely loved—The Eurythmics “Here Comes the Rain Again,” a very plaintive love song.

Melissa was always worried about the time I was taking away to be with her. For this year, it has been hard on all involved—her, me, the boys, her family, the church. She really felt like she was a burden. But I treasured every moment with her, because Melissa sick is better than most people well. I treasured the times we went to the clinic—we’d watch three back-to-back-to-back episodes of Walker Texas Ranger. We’d sit and talk, laugh, whatever. The ride up and down was a time we had.

But she felt bad about that. And then it hit me: well, now, she doesn’t have to worry. I’ll have more time for the church. Well, let me clarify that: more time for the work of the church—there’s a difference. But I feel really bad about that. First, there’s guilt. I mean, she’s gone and we’re moving on, and a selfish anxiety of mine is creeping up. And then, I just don’t want the time. I’d rather be taking her to the clinic. I didn’t even mind staying in the hospital with her—helping her walk around to build strength, reading to her, singing hymns to her, for her when the pain was bad. Funny how that works.

But Melissa stayed up with all that was going on in ministry. She was always into it, praying for it, strengthening me. And when the evil one does his prime work of discouragement, of trying to beat down calling and ministry, she always was there with encouragement. And I feel weird because I know she is doing that even now. About 5 people have confirmed something that the Lord was speaking to me, something that is brewing in prayer and meditation, that I will share as it becomes clearer.

I think I was faithful to my calling in spite of the severe limitations these past 2 years. In brief, what is coming to my heart is that now that she is in glory, no more struggle, no more suffering, what better reason to carry on with the very ministry that is our faith, so much so that she continues to offer peace through what she believed? This is all very ham-handed; I am not quite sure what it is—a wrestling with things she and I talked about when she got sick—that no matter what, we continue in our calling.

The scar there is that in order to do so, it has meant her passing. It came down to either her healing or her passing. And I don’t know how I feel about that. I want to kick the devil around. I want to snuff that punk. But it feels weird to think about getting back down to business.

Maybe what happened today is a better indicator of the churning going on. Maybe if I separate it from calling, I can get some picture. Today I took the boys to see Shrek the Third. Funny. But as were walking out, it hit me: this is really no different from how things have been the past year and a half. A few times in that time, Sissy got to do stuff with us. But not much. And so there really isn’t much different about it just being me and the boys. But every time we did something without her, every time, there was the hope that one day it’d be all of us together again. I used to get mad thinking people thought I was a single dad with the kids for the weekend. I wanted to say, “No, wait! One day, my wife will be back out with us!” But now she won’t, and now what? We’ll keep doing stuff, and move on, and that’s just perverse.

A friend of mine, about a year ago said, “You need a beer.” Hell, if I started drinking, I’d never stop.

I have a Doors CD in. She always loved it when I sang “Love Me Two Times.” “Love me two times, babe, I’m going away…” What was also getting me last night was that I am kicking myself for not spending my time with her differently. What if I had stayed up all night with her, Monday night?