Dare to Dream Again

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 1

I’ve never been so in love before.

Not like this.

He leans over as he takes my hand. So gentle, charming as he asks, “Would you care to do the honors and bless our meal?”

“Of course.” I close my eyes but can still feel his gaze warming my face. I can’t pretend not to notice. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You know.” His voice is soft like the spring breeze that floats past. All around me, the smell of our cut grass is even stronger than the nasturtiums I just planted. He’s worked hard. We both have.

Which is what makes this evening picnic a perfect way to end the day. Together. We couldn’t ask for anything else.

He brushes my cheek with his work-worn finger. His callouses are surer signs of love than the smoothest, silkiest hand of royalty. “I’m sorry for distracting you,” he says and shuts his eyes. “Go ahead.”

Our fingers intertwine as I thank the Lord for our food, for our lives together. For all the sorrow he’s brought us through and all the hope we have for our future. I thank him that he’s given us two beautiful children. And as much as I love them and the way they cling to me through the day, I’m even more grateful that right now they are both fast asleep so we can enjoy this moment of peaceful stillness together.

“Amen.” He leans over me. His breath is hot on my neck. “I love you,” he says, but I can’t say it back. My throat is clenched tight. My face is hot with tears.

What’s wrong with me?

“I love you,” he repeats, a question in his voice, and more than anything I want to tell him the same.

Why can’t I speak?

We have our daughters, we have the Lord, we have each other.

So why does it feel like my heart’s been split in two? Why are these hot tears streaming down my cheeks?

Why is my husband’s image disappearing in front of my eyes?

I love you too, but by the time I manage to whisper the words, he’s gone.

It’s only me.

Alone in the dark.

Stifling my cry so I don’t wake up my teenage daughters.

Begging God for just five more minutes.

Five more minutes with my Stan.

Five more minutes where I can imagine we’re together again.

No, not that long? What about sixty seconds? Ten seconds.

One …

I squeeze my eyes shut. It’s hours before dawn, but I know I won’t be able to get back to sleep.

I sit up in bed, turn on my lamp, and pick up my Bible, reminding myself that God blesses those who mourn no matter how hard it feels right now to believe those words.