Nightmare

Yesterday was a bad, bad day. I spent the day feeling thoroughly sorry for myself. The one thing in the world I truly want continues to elude me. When I got down on my knees last night, I begged the Lord to give me what I want. Instead, He gave me a bit of perspective:

I dreamed that Mark died. I didn't see it happen. I don't know how it happened. But it happened. At first I didn't believe it. But then, reality set in. It didn't set in as much as it crashed in. I was hysterical and inconsolable. As time went by, the people who love me became concerned. They couldn't understand why I couldn't move on. I tried to explain it.

"I'm a widow! The love of my life is dead and I'm alone. It will be decades before my husband holds me in his arms again! How can I just be ok?"

Every memory of Mark was like a punch in the gut. My entire reality had been ripped from my life leaving it empty and meaningless.

I could go on, but suffice it to say that waking up this morning was a blessing. Although painful, I got a healthy dose of perspective from that dream. I'm sure I will still inexplicably start crying when I walk past certain aisles at the store. But I've decided to be a little more grateful for what I have, and little less depressed about what I don't.

So, before you go to bed tonight, squeeze your spouse as hard as you can and thank God that they are snore-ily snoozing next to you.