Jeff and I were the best of friends, always sharing everything. I could even look at another man and say to my beloved, ‘Jeff that man looks nice doesn’t he?’ and he wouldn’t be jealous about it. He knew me well enough to understand when I compliment another that it’s just that and nothing more.
We knew each other for four years before we finally got married. It was great getting to know each other. We were in different countries at the time we courted and would write letters and called each other every day. What strengthened our relationship was our belief in Psalm 127—we always ended our phone calls with one reading the word and the other praying.
It built our spiritual lives and our relationship so much—we became a part of each other in more ways than a physical connection.
Friday, July 17, 2009, was the last time I spoke to Jeff; it was just before I left for church that night.
Strange thing too was after service that night my pastor’s wife told me she had a dream seeing me in a valley of blood, but she wasn’t sure if it was me or another Marsha who also came to the church.
I wasn’t sure what it meant at the time.
The following day—the Saturday I called Jeff like I usually did—his phone rang out. I thought he had gone to visit his friend who had a truck he usually helped with. I called again later that evening, still nothing. He usually called me when he got home so when he didn't that night, I wondered what happened and called his house—this time it was his cousin, Ann who answered.
She told me his mom was not able to speak and so she was the one who broke the news to me. It was a shock at first. When I hung the phone up I did not cry or reacted. I did not believe it. I never had such an experience before and it felt unreal.
The only thing I could think of doing was calling my pastor, and he told me not to get bitter. An advice many would shun but it kept me from turning from God. We had only been married 22 days before he died in his sleep because of prescriptions he mixed. He had fallen down the stairs some months previous and the pain had returned which caused him to reach for pain tablets- so a word of caution to those of you who try one medication for pain and because it doesn’t work you try another before that one is out of your system.
That Sunday I went to church and when the pastor spoke to the congregation about it, that was probably the only time I cried openly. It still hadn’t hit me as yet. I kept on praying for God to bring him back like he did Lazarus. It was one of those days while I was praying that the Lord revealed to me it was a test- like Abraham was.
Tested I was, as, since that Sunday of going to church, I withdraw to myself and didn’t go anywhere not even church. Sometimes I felt an eerie presence around me, which I knew wasn’t Jeff, but an evil spirit that was feeding off my pain-something I added to Meg’s experience in the book. I had to really do some warfare praying one night to rid myself of that evil presence that comes around us when we lose someone.
I thought I would have heard from my fellow brothers and sister in Christ during those days when they didn’t see me at church—but only two persons called me a few times to see how I was. Not even my pastor called.
I found myself thinking of so many others going through something similar all alone and wondered how they got through. Sure I had family, but none seem to understand my pain. I was angry at my church and thought about the parable of Jesus leaving the 99 sheep to look for that one lost soul. How many churches remember the members of their churches that don’t show up for some reason and seek to find out how they are?
Although I was hurting, God was allowing me to see many things that affect so many of us. It was his presence that kept me. It was always around me; no exaggeration. I felt him every day and it felt like he was hugging me. God loved me enough to stay with me through all that and at first I almost didn’t want it. I wanted just a hug- not someone to preach to me—just a hug. I cried every day and by myself. But soon I grew to appreciate God’s presence and embraced the experience to be able to give some of His love and hope to others.
I am healing but even though it has been 9 years, I still miss my best friend and I know many of you will always miss your loved ones as well.
Writing this book came to me with just seeing a woman sitting at a train station looking sad. I had no idea what God had planned through it but I knew that it is meant to heal and bring hope. I hope you will enjoy the story and that the characters will lift you up out of the darkness and help you feel God’s love around you as He was with me.
