Friday Loss & Sunday Blessing

             

Late one January night, I sat beside the hospital bed with my right hand clasped over my mouth. Tears flowed. The moment I dreaded was imminent. My beloved grandmother fought for every single breath. This ending had been developing over the past week, so it wasn't a surprise, but now I wondered how I'd live without her.

We'd always had a special bond. I never questioned her love for me, not even the one time we didn't speak for several months because we were angry at each other. I knew we'd make up soon enough.

She wasn't perfect. Truthfully, she'd never be nominated for mother or grandmother of the year award. Yet she was my greatest cheerleader growing up and even as an adult.

Tearfully, I watched my frail grandmother pause between shallow breaths. I prayed, "God don't let her suffer. Take her to live with you." About fifteen minutes later, she breathed her last. I left the room to find the rest of my family with my heart pounding in my ears.

In that instant, I regretted that prayer. I wanted her back for five more minutes. I wasn't ready to let her go.

I'd never lost someone so close before and the grief overtook me like a dark, oppressive shroud. I resumed living my life—raising my two boys, work, college classes—all the normal routine, but my heart burned to see her again.  

I called my mother about a month after her death. "I'm going to take a teaspoon and go to the cemetery and dig her up. I know how crazy that sounds. But I know God loves me. He knows how much I miss her. After I dig her up, I trust He will work a miracle and give her back to me."

Needless to say, that freaked my mom out. She made me promise to give up that idea. I did, but every time I thought I'd reached the bottom of despair, it moved deeper. I prayed over and over for relief from the darkness of grief.

Then one April day, I changed the station on the car radio and heard a man's voice preaching a simple message.

It doesn't matter what you're going through, it's Friday but Sunday's coming. Christ hung on the cross on Friday, but rose on Sunday. So in the midst of life's pain and suffering, remember it's Friday, but Sunday's coming.

I smiled. Not just on my face, but I felt my heart smile too.

You see, Grandma and I are now living a "Friday" separation from each other—but I believe to my core—our "Sunday" is coming. We'll have eternity together. Those simple words lifted the black shroud and I felt God's light flood my soul.

To this day, I believe He inspired the preacher with such a profound message, He arranged for me to hear it, and He healed my wounded heart. 

That very night, I had the sweetest dream with my grandmother standing in her kitchen—young, healthy and beautiful—smiling as she buttered a homemade biscuit. Neither of us spoke. We just grinned at each other, both released to find joy while we wait for our "Sunday" reunion.

What about you? Have you lost someone and believed you'd never recover? Are you in the midst of a "Friday" loss, waiting on a "Sunday" blessing? Please share.