Annie

My mentor's wife just passed away on Tuesday. Her name was Annie.

When my mentor, Bill, proposed to Annie, he popped the question like this: "Will you spend the next 50 years with me?" To which she answered, "I'll have to ask my mother." When she did say "yes", he whisked her away from her home in Alberta, and she became his faithful companion and helpmate for over fifty years. (When their 50th anniversary rolled around, Bill told Annie that she had fulfilled her duty and could go if she pleased. She told him it would be too much trouble and she would rather stay.)

Bill bought Annie flowers every month on their anniversary date. He also let her "retire" from cooking and took her out to eat every night for the last 15 years of their marriage. He hung a sign on the front wall of the house facing the street that read "Annie's Place" for all to see. They had been married for over 50 years, and he was still dating her.

And now, my dear friend Bill is alone. I heard from a friend that he hasn't been up to phone conversations, just cards and letters. I also heard that he's been lost without her. Of course he's lost. She was part of his life compass...and what do you do when North stops showing up? Where do you go? How do you orient yourself every day?

My heart grieves Annie's departure. I'm glad she's flown to Jesus, to whom she spoke every day. But I'm so sad for those that she left behind. That's always the case, isn't it? We're not really mourning those who pass into glory. We're mourning for the ones that they leave behind. We feel the emptiness with the ones who are left here. We cringe at the silence in their empty homes. We wish we could fill that void so there won't be so much emptiness, so much space. But we can't. So we cry with them and wish for healing.

We can't rush the healing. We can't fill the void. We just have to wait for God to do His thing.

Bill, we're here with you.

-D