Amazing Love

December 3, 2020

In April this year, my husband Deacon Dave and I were meeting with our spiritual director. After a short discussion Fr. S. turns to me and asks, “Have you ever considered writing a blog?” I was dumbfounded. – No – I hadn’t. In nearly 36 years of marriage, my life was a supporting role to my teacher/football coach/deacon husband. He was the outward ministry of our family. I took care of the home front. Without any hesitation Dave turns to me and says, “I think you should do it.” Really!?

Over the next couple of months I slowly gave my ascent to the idea. On Saturday July 4th I actually took some time in prayer to ask God what He wanted me to write about. The phrase, “You Are Loved!” came immediately to mind. I jotted a few paragraphs about the Father’s inexhaustible love for his children, all his children. I set the notes down on my desk under a pile of other papers and went about getting ready for all the family that would be joining us for Independence Day.

It was an idyllic day. The weather was perfect. Seven of our eight children were able to join us including all 4 grandchildren along with some of my siblings and their families. There was swimming, grilled burgers, watermelon, kids running with sparklers – just perfect. At the end of the day as we were going to bed, Dave turned to me and with an unusually tender voice said, “You are loved.” Not I love you, but “You are Loved.” OK God, I hear you. This is what you want me to write about.

The next morning Dave and I went to Mass at our parish. The rest of the gang stayed home for Mass with my son, Fr. Peter who happened to be off for a few days as he was about to start a new parish assignment. We had our typical Sunday brunch afterward with robust conversations about martyrdom, St. Thomas More, and what would you like written on your tombstone. Dave went up to take a nap. The rest of us dispersed to the pool and a bit of yard work.

Sometime around 3:30 Anne went in to get ready for a date. A few minutes later, Catherine came running out of the house saying Dad had collapsed and Anne was doing CPR on him. We flew into the house and up the stairs. As an ER nurse, Anne gave directions to each of us. Fr. Peter took over doing compressions while Anne did mouth to mouth. “Come on Dave, We need you here!” – No response – “Peter, can you anoint him?” Anne back on compressions. Where is EMS? Fr. Peter anointed his father and gave him the Apostolic pardon. Paramedics arrived and hauled equipment up the stairs. I left the room while they worked on him for 45 minutes. -No response – He was gone.

The paramedics left, the sheriff waited outside for the medical examiner. I had faith. God could work a miracle. I called to my kids to come up and pray for a miracle. But as we started to pray, I couldn’t get the words out. Dave was a man who always lived with heaven as his goal. Everything he did was ordered toward being God’s man, doing God’s will. He had now obtained his life’s goal. Because I loved him so much, I just couldn’t ask God to deprive him of heaven. So instead of praying for a resurrection miracle, we gathered around his body and prayed the Office of the Dead, concluding with Dave’s favorite, the Song of Simeon: Now Lord, you will let your servant go in peace according to your word. For my eyes have seen your saving deed which you have set before all men, a light for revelation to the gentiles and for glory to your people Israel.

That night no one slept. Various adult kids came into my room seeking some bit of comfort. Sometime near 4 am I was alone in anguish and asked Dave to tell me . . .something.

“You are loved.”

The following day was a blur of meetings with the funeral director, liturgy planner, phone calls from family and friends. News traveled fast. Baskets of food showed up at our door. That night I was desperate for some sleep and managed to nod off for a few hours. But I woke in the middle of the night. I begged God to please give me a couple more hours of sleep.

My mind kept playing over and over again the searing images of trying to revive his lifeless body on the floor. I couldn’t shake them. Then I remembered when I had suggested perhaps moving to a smaller house and he protested, “No, I am going to die in this house.” And I sort of laughed, “Well you sure did that sweetie.” The next image that came to mind was when the funeral home came to remove his body and they were carrying him out the front door. And I remembered he had said, “They are going to have to take me out in a body bag!” And I laughed again and thought, “Well you did that too, now didn’t you?”

As they were carrying his body out the front door suddenly I saw Dave right beside me. He was wearing his black clerics (which he rarely wore) and his face was glowing like a Northern Michigan sunset. He whispered in my ear, “Hugs and Kisses.” And then he was gone. This wasn’t a dream because I was wide awake. A great sense of joy filled me. That vision was so much better than a couple hours of sleep. Thank you God for giving me not what I asked for, but giving me what I needed.

Now five months later, I am beginning to respond to the prompting of my spiritual director, my husband and the Holy Spirit. I am not certain what direction this blog will take but I am convinced that our Father in heaven wants us to know that His love for each one of us is limitless. The love of God is truly amazing.