When Decades Become Days

 When Decades 

Become Days

With the Lord a day is like a thousand years,

and a thousand years like a day

2nd Peter 3:8

     I distinctly remember August 14th, 2010.  It was my wedding day.  Since I was five years old, I dreamed of becoming a husband and a father.  I know that might sound quite unusual.  Most boys at that age wanted to be Power Rangers or Ninja Turtles or firefighters; meanwhile, I wanted to get married.  I was born a hopeless romantic.  I created a paper chain when Tif and I hammered out the day.  With each passing day, I would tear off one piece of the chain, and as the chain became shorter, my excitement started to grow.  I stood at the front of the church that day.  I cried watching her come down the aisle.  I didn't just see a woman, I saw decades, I saw my future.  Those decades were before us like a winding road through mountains and valleys, full of promises, dreams, and plans.  We dreamed of growing old together, retiring by the beach, sitting on a front porch with wrinkled old hands, and family gatherings filled with laughter.  But then the unexpected happened, the road was cut short.  What we thought would be a celebration of decades suddenly became days.

     Grief has a way of distorting time.  I think one of the hardest things for those who suffer through the loss of a spouse is the fact that life and time marches on for everyone....everyone but you.  The clock literally stops.  To this day, some mornings feels like an eternity since I last heard an I love you, and other times it feels as though she just walked out of the room and would return any second.  The decades I longed for vanished, but the love that we cultivated for each other remains, unchanged, untainted by grief.

     I still wrestle with the 'why.'  Why were decades stolen?  Why does time feel so fragile and unfair?  But as I think about time as a whole, I'm reminded that time is not mine to hold onto; it belongs to God.  He is not bound by the ticking of the clock like we are.  God doesn't flip the calendar and doesn't wring His hands in frustration.  What I see as lost years, God still sees hope in a beautiful future.  When I think of my wife's passing, I think of how short 37 years were.  I feel like it's cut short, but I realize that in God's foreknowledge, nothing catches Him off guard.  He remains Sovereign, seated on the throne.  Tif lived the exact number of days appointed unto her, and now she lives in a place where time doesn't exist, and at the same time, time doesn't end.  There aren't minutes, hours, or weeks in heaven.  The only time heaven keeps is eternity, which is exactly how long our spouse and us eventually will spend with Jesus.  Eternity has already swallowed up the pain of death for her through Christ Jesus.

     So what do I do in the meantime?  What do I do with what seems like the empty decades in front of me?  I'm reminded that even though the decades feel like they have been stolen, they are actually only a momentary separation.  What feels like years of loneliness (and it does feel lonely) is only a breath compared to eternity with Jesus.  The decades that we didn't get on earth will be redeemed in days without end in heaven.  Peter tells us that a year is like a thousand years and a thousand years is like a day.  Sometimes the days without her feels like decades, but to God, He sees each breath, each moment, each tear.  

     I'm also anchored in the hope that God still has good things for me in the here and now.  He isn't done with me.  He still has things that I can't imagine.  He will restore that which the locusts have stolen, rebuild that which was ruined, and bring beauty from these current ashes.  He reminds me that life is fragile, easily breakable.  He reminds me to treasure the days, dream of the decades, and look forward to the time of eternal tomorrows.  My grief does not cancel God's current, present, beautiful plans for me.  The grief fogs that at times, but I cling to the beautiful promise that God is the God of the living and will use this current grief for His glory.

     Until then, I walk forward one step at a time, asking God to teach me how to number my days (Psalm 90:12).  My heart may ache, but it also trust.  The decades became days, but in Jesus, the days will eventually transition into forever.

Reflections:

     1. What future plans do you miss the most about

          spouse?

     2. How does the promise of heaven comfort your

          current grief?

     3. One is one thing you see God doing in your

          present?