PATSY KUIPERS|GUEST
Probably not the heading you’d expect for a reflection on two decades of widowhood… at least not until you complete the title of the cherished hymn, ’Tis So Sweet to Trust in Jesus and recall its first verse: “’Tis so sweet to trust in Jesus, Just to take Him at His word, Just to rest upon His promise, Just to know ‘Thus saith the Lord.’” As I contemplated writing this memorial post, the refrain of that anthem, penned in 1882 by Louisa M.R. Stead, came to my mind repeatedly: “Jesus, Jesus, how I trust Him! How I’ve proved Him o’er and o’er! Jesus, Jesus, precious Jesus! O for grace to trust Him more!”
A Shocking Loss
April 20, 1997 found me in a daze, a protective state of shock. On some level I recognized the need to make decisions regarding my 39-year old husband’s services – visitation, funeral, burial. So many decisions brought about by his sudden death the night before. But more than anything I just felt numb. My thoughts churned. “How could he have gone to work and not come home? Surely he’ll drive up any minute now, won’t he?” My mind and emotions grappled with the surreal situation I found myself in.
It was a Sunday and my house was full as friends came and went all day. Many heard the news at church, where we would normally have spent our morning had the unthinkable not occurred. Visitors came bearing food and encouraged me to eat, but I had no appetite. All I wanted was to be with Ray, to somehow help him, to know he was ok. When I finally got to see him on Tuesday afternoon, the knot in my stomach began to relax. I know that sounds contradictory, but in viewing his lifeless body I knew he was beyond any help I could offer. Furthermore, I was comforted to know his spirit was with the Lord. He was much more than ok. He was Home.[1]
Decisions were made, relatives and out-of-town friends made arrangements to attend the services—visitation Wednesday evening, funeral Thursday morning, burial in North Carolina on Friday afternoon. I can recall the events of that week in vivid detail. The people who gathered around us; prayers so abundant and fervent I could feel them; numerous gestures of support—I remember and am thankful.
The flurry of activity and visitors eventually subsided and my daughters, ages 10 and 7, and I were left to contend with reality. I don’t recollect how many nights passed before one or more of us didn’t cry ourselves to sleep, how long it was before my subconscious stopped expecting Ray to come home from work, or when a “new normal” finally took hold. The raw pain of loss eventually diminished, but the longing to talk to Ray, to have my wise and loving partner by my side remains to this day.
God’s Sweet Faithfulness
So much has happened since that warm week in April, the daily ins and outs of life plus birthdays, graduations, weddings, and the arrival of grandchildren. These momentous occasions were bittersweet without Ray to share them, but there has been much joy nonetheless.
Because God has never forsaken us![2]
From the second we heard the devastating news in a tiny room at our local hospital to this very moment, God has been a faithful defender of this widow and a Father to her fatherless girls.[3] As I’ve thought about what to write on this 20th anniversary, each hardship that came to mind was met with a “but God.” A few examples: He made it possible for my parents to move to Georgia to help me raise my two girls, provided friends who’ve faithfully prayed for us and offered other assistance as needed, and he allowed me to be gainfully employed all the years my daughters were dependent upon me and my income. In addition there are the over-and-above gifts, like getting to go back to school to study horticulture.
I’ve often said if there’d been a signup sheet entitled “Get to know God better by losing your Husband,” I wouldn’t have put my name on it. Yet God sovereignly saw fit to add the roles of widow and single parent to my resumé. I have no doubt I’ve come to know him far better than if I’d had my earthly husband and provider to depend on. And so I can say as Mrs. Stead—herself widowed at an early age— did in the last stanza of her hymn, “I’m so glad I learned to trust Him, Precious Jesus, Savior, Friend, And I know that He is with me, Will be with me to the end.”
God owes me nothing, including explanations. Although I don’t remember ever being angry with God, I have wondered on more than one occasion why he took Ray so young. I’d reason it made no sense because he was a kind, caring spouse, parent, friend. But God sending his perfect Son to die in my place doesn’t make sense either.[4] Moreover, it is ample proof of his infinite and unconditional love. Nevertheless, He constantly pours out reminders, blessings both big and small.
Although my girls and I bear the scars of losing a beloved father and husband all-too-soon (at least from a human perspective), the Lord has comforted us that we might comfort others.[5] He has bestowed upon us the oil of joy instead of mourning and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair.[6] Some who’ve witnessed our journey comment on our strength. May they recognize that apart from the Lord we would have none.[7] We are a planting of the Lord for the display of his splendor[8]. Truly all praise, glory and honor belong to him alone.
Patsy often refers to herself as “Gardening Grammie,” a title that encompasses two of her favorite pastimes. Widowed at age 38, she was blessed to be gainfully employed all the years she spent raising two daughters on her own. When her job was eliminated 6 years ago, she returned to school to study horticulture, a passion born of caring for the garden her husband left as part of his legacy. She is Grammie to three garden helpers. Patsy started her blog, Back 2 the Garden , to tell others of God’s faithfulness. She is a member of Grace Covenant PCA in Dallas, GA.
[1] 2 Corinthians 5:1-9
[2] Deuteronomy 31:6
[3] Psalm 68:5
[4] 1 Corinthians 1:18-25
[5] 2 Corinthians 1:3-4
[6] Isaiah 61:3a
[7] See, for example Psalm 46:1-3, Psalm 73:25-26 and Isaiah 40:28-31
[8] Isaiah 61:3b