![\"7](\"http:\/\/mattchimento.files.wordpress.com\/2009\/07\/cabin02.jpg\")
<\/a><\/h3>\nPROLOGUE<\/h3>\n
Steven shoveled the dirt into the pit, covering the small wooden box in the dry, caked soil of winter. With each soft \u2018thud\u2019, the hole in the ground grew smaller, and the hole in Steven\u2019s chest sunk deeper. He paused and rubbed his doubly-chafed hands, wiped the tears and sweat from his face, and shuddered. The sky was grey and a wind blew flurried snow harshly against his hair and clothing, as tiny white spots began to freckle the upturned earth. But Steven could feel only the biting chill of his emptiness as he quietly tossed yet another shovelful into the half-filled pit.<\/p>\n
When the grave was finished and covered, he knelt down and hammered in a wooden headstone, carved and embossed beautifully. He made sure it wouldn\u2019t move, and when he was ready, Steven stood, walked around to face the pile, and turned away. He could conjure up no final one-sided remarks. As he walked down the hill from the burial site, shivering at the wind\u2019s remorselessness, he wondered how he was ever going to make it through the remaining six weeks.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
PART 1<\/h3>\n\n\u201cLaughter.\u201dSteven mumbled the word, trying to trace it back to the beginning. \u201cHer happiness. Her spirit. She loved jokes.\u201d He ran his fingers through his hair and closed his eyes, remembering her face, her eyes, her smile. The empty cabin creaked as the wind carried on through the mountain ridge, and though the room was lit, only grey shown through the paneled windows.\u201cIt was her sense of humor.\u201d Steven said it aloud, and the room seemed to react to his voice. \u201cI loved her sense of humor. It was what I woke up to, and it got me through the toughest days. No one could laugh as much as she could.\u201d He leaned back in the overstuffed chair. \u201cI think God gave her that humor. You did, right? Your smile was hers.\u201d Once Steven had decided who he was actually talking to, his speech to no one in particular converted to a thoughtful monologue. Images of her, of both of them together, flashed around his head: She, laughing her sweet laugh, and he snorting atrociously beside her. He could always make her laugh, and she could always lift his spirits.He was smiling now, and remembering all the good things about her, her laughter. He wondered why it was always easier to remember emotions after they\u2019d been felt. He didn\u2019t want to go on having different memories- he wanted her back. \u201cTracie\u2026\u201d<\/em><\/p>\nThen he sat up quickly. \u201cNo. No, I\u2019m sorry.\u201d Shook his head, cleared his mind. \u201cGod, please tell her how much I miss her. You know. And let her know that this week, I\u2019m going to give back her laughter. I\u2019m going to offer it all back to you, and let you take every bit from me. And I\u2019m going to let you fill me with your own once more.\u201d<\/p>\n
Steven got up from his chair and walked outside to the shed. He stayed there for three hours, and when it was dark, he went back to the cabin and fell asleep.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
PART 2<\/h3>\n<\/div>\n\nFour months after their engagement, Tracie came back from a checkup and told Steven they were testing her for a rare form of brain disease. They both waited the obligatory three weeks, praying and hoping for the best. When the results came back positive and Tracie was admitted to an intensive care center, Steven began to lose his faith. He stopped praying, cut off all fellowship with his church, and spent all his time and energy on Tracie. He refused to be the stereotypical selfish male who deserted his wife at the first sign of trouble. It wasn\u2019t until a month before their wedding day, just after the second MRI that afternoon, when Tracie turned to him and very quietly reminded him of his priorities.\u201cYou need to figure out which is more important to you. Because even if we make it through this, I\u2019m still not going to be around forever.\u201dIt was his final wake-up call, and Steven knew it. He had one chance to get his life back in order, or he\u2019d never be ready to marry her. So he spent that entire month praying. He prayed for forgiveness, for strength, for peace, and for his future wife to be healed. He wanted to trust God with the outcome, but still, he felt safer when he was working his hardest all the time.The eve of their wedding arrived, and Steven lassoed Tracie away from her girlfriends and sat her down. Her wonderful smile was covering her face, and her body was covered in particles of a still-unfinished wedding dress, but Steven looked straight into her eyes and held her gaze.<\/p>\n
\u201cTracie, I need you to decide right now if I\u2019m worthy of you. Because if this goes wrong, and you can\u2019t rely on me-\u201c He stopped talking, because her face said so.<\/p>\n
She hung her head and breathed in and out slowly. \u201cDid I scare you with what I said at the hospital?\u201d He looked away, and nodded slightly. \u201cOkay. Well, I\u2019m glad. I wanted to scare you, because I didn\u2019t want you to lose God. If you let God slip, everything slips.\u201d<\/p>\n
He nodded again, and started to speak, but she stopped him. \u201cBut you know I love you. And even if you had forgotten God and you were still out of touch with Him, I\u2019d have still married you. There\u2019s nothing I would enjoy more than helping bring you back to Him. Then I would get to support you.\u201d<\/p>\n
She paused and messed with his hair playfully. \u201cSteven, you\u2019ve been my man for the last couple months. No one else has worked so hard for me, ever. I thank you and love you for that, and I always will. Now go downstairs and have a cigar with the guys. We need to finish this dress.\u201d<\/p>\n
He smiled back at her and kissed her cheek, helped her up, and then headed for his groomsmen. As he skipped down the stairs, he thanked God for his wife.<\/p>\n
![\"Approaching](\"http:\/\/mattchimento.files.wordpress.com\/2009\/07\/weddingnight.jpg?w=540&resize=540%2C361\")
<\/a><\/h3>\nPART 3<\/h3>\n\n\u201cHer friendship. Before we were dating, we were friends. And we stayed friends after we were married. To me, her friendship was more important than her romance.\u201dSteven was slouched in his easy chair, mug in hand, watching the storm outside. The fireplace was warming the den from the below-freezing temperatures outside, the whistling sound of the wind and the thousands of tiny hard ice particles blowing against the window panes. The coziness was enough to put anyone to sleep within seconds, and Steven was having trouble staying awake. But he needed to find the third root, and after five hours of hard thought and prayer, he had.\u201cIt took me three years before I started dating her to figure out I could be her friend and her love interest side by side. So many people forget that, forget how important that quality is. She never did. Actually, she wouldn\u2019t take the relationship further unless I promised to still be her friend.\u201d Steven took a sip of coffee and smiled. \u201cI remember that. That was a weird night.\u201d He leaned back, reminiscing, and fell asleep.It was dark when he woke up, but he still began to put on his boots and coat, all the while talking. \u201cLord God, it was her friendship that got me through the last bit. I couldn\u2019t have done it on just romance- it\u2019s too weak on its own. But to have a friendship, a strong friendship built on solid emotions and actual Love\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
He opened the door a crack and had to shut it quickly. The storm had turned into a mini-blizzard, and he would have to wait until tomorrow. He turned away, then ignored the little caution in his head and plunged out to the porch, slamming the door behind him. Stumbling and bent over, he made his way to the shed, all the while thanking God for Tracie\u2019s friendship. His words were blown away the moment he spoke them, but Steven knew his audience could understand him perfectly.<\/p>\n
PART 4<\/h3>\n<\/div>\n\nThe rest of that week was almost relaxing. Each day, Steven would spend his time completely absorbed in his Bible and finding every possible reference to friendship and relationships he possibly could. A few mornings, he got up early and ran down the mountain, singing all the best worship songs he could think of. He even caught himself smiling on several occasions. He prayed often, and though he received no communication back, he was sure he could make it the rest of the month.Sunday arrived, and Steven could feel his spirit sinking as he trudged out to the field behind the cabin, shovel in one hand and a bookbag in the other. When he got back at dusk that night, he noted the remarkable decline in interest he now felt, the dull throb of low self-worth and deepening apathy. He knew the lowest point was soon to come. And, as predicted, he spent most of Monday flat on the couch, unable to move, barely breathing, eyes wide open and bone dry. He couldn\u2019t think of Tracie\u2019s incredible blessings, or do any of what he was supposed to for three full days- only lie still and wish her there with him.* * * * *This wasn\u2019t the first time he\u2019d experienced this kind of depression. Almost two years into their marriage, Tracie\u2019s disease was getting progressively worse and the doctors were quickly running out of options. One day, they came home from an especially discouraging appointment. Steven left her in the bedroom to lie down for a bit, and walked into their small kitchen to get a glass of water and think. His job was making enough to support them both and pay for her treatments, and it left him plenty of time to spend with her; he wasn\u2019t worried about that.<\/p>\n
He waited several minutes, then crept down the hall and quietly peeked into the bedroom. Tracie lay curled on the bed, breathing lightly and quietly humming in her sleep. The usual color in her face and glow in her skin had disappeared in the last few months, and her headaches had increased with terrifying ferocity. She was in daily, non-stop pain, and Steven could do nothing about it. He hated it. He hated her brain, and her disease, and he wanted to kill something.<\/p>\n
Twenty minutes later, Tracie found him kneeling in front of the couch, fists clenched in a fearful sweat, hissing through his teeth and sobbing softly. She got to her knees next to him and put both arms around his waist. \u201cIt\u2019s okay, sweetie. I\u2019m okay.\u201d<\/p>\n
* * * * *<\/p>\n
Steven sobbed like that now, and wished the smooth, slender arms would appear and wrap around him, comfort him. But they didn\u2019t, and he knew they never would again.<\/p>\n
![\"Bedroom\"](\"http:\/\/mattchimento.files.wordpress.com\/2009\/07\/bedroom.jpg?w=540&resize=540%2C390\")
<\/a><\/h3>\nPART 5<\/h3>\n\nThe Thursday light, muffled by the light grey clouds blanketing the sky, began to bring a dull haze to the cabin. Evergreen trees outside the windows shook and bent as the wind picked up speed. A huge storm was nearing, but Steven paid no attention. After a long night of thinking and praying, he had just found a trail to follow, and was busy talking himself through it.\u201cLies. She hated lies. And no side-stepping, either. It was tell her straight, or don\u2019t tell her at all. Lies\u2026\u201d He ran his mind off-track, and struggled to concentrate. \u201cThis is getting harder and harder, you know. It was easy to think of her beauty the first week, but now I have to get deeper.\u201d He stopped and thought it through again.\u201cTruth\u2026her love for truth drove her. She was on an unstoppable hunt for the ultimate truth in everyone\u2019s life. She never accepted a lie as an excuse. And she never lied herself, and so she could tell when someone was lying to her. The face of falsity is ripped away by the strength of honesty.\u201dHe sat up. \u201cSo, Honesty?\u201d Is that a virtue? Yeah, that\u2019s a virtue. It\u2019s a Fruit of the Spirit, too, I think.\u201d He rubbed his eyes, crusted from dried tears and sleep. \u201cI\u2019ll never be as honest as she was, and I don\u2019t think I\u2019ll meet someone like that again, either.\u201d<\/p>\n
Steven stood and paced the room for a moment. \u201cLord, help me to offer back her Honesty, her beautiful obsession with Truth. Help me develop those passions in my own life this week.\u201d<\/p>\n
He ended his prayer, put on his boots, grabbed a few water bottles, and went out to the shed. He didn\u2019t come back for two days.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
PART 6<\/h3>\n
The fifth week at the cabin, Steven began to get restless. He walked around both buildings when the storms let up, restoring rotted wood or repainting sealant. He scrubbed windows, added bathroom and bedroom fixtures, replaced damaged kitchen tiles, and even fixed several leaks in the plumbing and heating. Still, he took to running in the mornings and chopping wood in the afternoons, and these chores helped him to stay busy, and carry on his own restoration. Between swings of his ax, he could be heard muttering and speaking to the surrounding trees.<\/p>\n
\u201cTracie was always joyful. She found joy in everything.\u201d Whump.<\/em> \u201cI think she even managed a smile the night she got the news. What the\u2013\u201c Whump.<\/em> \u201cIt never seemed fair to me. She got to be happy, and I was completely stressed out. You\u2019d think I had the friggin\u2019\u2013\u201c Whump.<\/em> \u201cWell, I needed her to be joyful, because I never would have made it through if she was as gloomy as me.\u201d<\/p>\nSteven put the ax down and brushed the sweat from his eyebrows before it froze. He remembered one of the countless times Tracie had kissed him, smiled, and touched his face when the depression was starting to close in. \u201cIt\u2019s in God\u2019s hands, Steven. Be joyful, for we have a Great Provider, and He knows what He\u2019s doing.\u201d The she\u2019d stretch her arms out as if waking up, throw her head back, and twirl in circles, laughing, until Steven caught her. It was his most beautiful memory of her, and now he had to find a way to lay it to rest this week. He picked up the ax and swung it high. Whump.<\/em><\/p>\n* * * * *<\/p>\n
The storm, which had been holding off east of the range, suddenly turned and breached upon the mountain, covering the terrain in huge piles of snow and broken tree limbs. White-tailed deer ran by the windows in groups of two and three, and Steven even saw a bear lumber by in the relentless wind.<\/p>\n
Inside, the fire in the hearth gave off enough heat to keep him from putting on a coat, although he needed his thick socks and a hooded jacket for comfort. It was the beginning of week six, and he was glad he had chopped wood for three days and fixed the outside enough to trust it in a storm this fierce. So as the coffee seeped through the strainer in a painfully slow drip, he went back to the previous subject and started his prayer.<\/p>\n
\u201cI thought of it while I was back at Joy, but I didn\u2019t want to get distracted. So here\u2019s the next one: Hope. She was so joyful, because she was filled with Hope.\u201d He paused, thinking. \u201cShe didn\u2019t hope for impossible things, or selfish things. Not even for things, period. She had hope for each person in her life, that what she was going through would open eyes and move hearts. Everything she hoped for was exactly what You want.\u201d<\/p>\n
The coffee finished, but Steven wasn\u2019t paying attention. He was bent over the counter, grasping his hair. \u201cI don\u2019t think I had the same hope she did. I wish I had.\u201d His voice was muffled by the jacket, and the room fell completely silent. He stood in this position, remembering, unable to forget. \u201cLord, she was my wife. She was my wife.<\/em> I married her three years ago.<\/em> I loved her more than I\u2019ve loved anyone else- even You.\u201d<\/p>\nHe had said it. He\u2019d known it for a long time, but was too afraid to admit it. \u201cGod, You wouldn\u2019t take her from me because my priorities were wrong! You aren\u2019t cruel!\u201d Steven pushed away from the counter, shaking. \u201cShe had hope for me too! She prayed for me all the time, that I would put You back in Your place. No, that\u2019s not why. You aren\u2019t cruel.\u201d He regained control of his thoughts, and then his body. The quaking stopped, and he calmed down. \u201cLord, I\u2019m sorry. I have no right to blame you. Please help me through this week. Help me to lay her Hope to rest, in Your name.\u201d<\/p>\n
The coffee sat in the clear pot, cold and untouched for the remainder of the night.<\/p>\n
![\"Wood](\"http:\/\/mattchimento.files.wordpress.com\/2009\/07\/woodyard.jpg?w=540&resize=540%2C390\")
<\/a><\/h3>\nPART 7<\/h3>\n
It was three in the afternoon, and Steven had just gotten back from his last shift that week. When he opened the front door and saw Tracie lying still on the floor, he lost his sane mind, and went into emergency mode. Checking her pulse and finding it still beating, he mechanically called 911 and then the specialist. When the response team arrived, he quickly briefed them, offered his help to no avail, and sat in the ambulance on the way to the hospital. When they successfully revived her, he was standing outside the glass wall, pacing and mentally checking every procedure he\u2019d performed in a frenzy to be sure he hadn\u2019t done something wrong. The doctor approached him and let him know she had been revived, and was now sleeping, fully monitored. Steven thanked him, stood for several moments with an twitch in his left hand, then walked into the bathroom and shook uncontrollably for twenty minutes. Even after he\u2019d recovered enough to unwrap his arms from his body, the short, sharp breathing from inside the stall worried someone enough to call a doctor, and Steven was taken to a recovery room until he could speak and inform the nurse he was fine.<\/p>\n
A few hours later, when they let him in her room, and he was sitting and watching her, he heard a voice. It was one of those voices where he wasn\u2019t quite sure if it was God or one of the many in his head. He listened as it spoke: You\u2019re afraid of losing her. You\u2019re terrified, not just from fear of loss, but from your lack of control. She\u2019s dying, and YOU CAN’T DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT.<\/em><\/p>\nSteven grabbed his head and shook it intensely. He wouldn\u2019t listen to that. It wasn\u2019t hopeful, or encouraging. He needed comfort, and that was not comforting.<\/p>\n
\u201cHi Steven.\u201d<\/p>\n
He looked up quickly and grabbed Tracie\u2019s hand. \u201cBaby-\u201c<\/p>\n
\u201cSteven, I love you so much, but you need to calm down.\u201d She smiled at him and stroked his arm.<\/p>\n
\u201cTracie.\u201d He covered her hand with his. \u201cI found you on the floor. They said you had a seizure.\u201d<\/p>\n
She pursed her lips and sighed through her nose. \u201cDid you get me here?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThe ambulance came.\u201d<\/p>\n
She turned towards the ceiling and closed her eyes. Steven studied her profile; she looked so frail, and the tubes in her nose just added to her frailty. He felt his stomach sink and swallowed.<\/p>\n
\u201cSteven, are you scared?\u201d Tracie spoke towards the roof, quietly, calmly.<\/p>\n
He almost answered, then stopped himself. \u201cIs that a question you already know?\u201d<\/p>\n
She nodded. \u201cYou can\u2019t be scared. You have to fight your fear and face this with me, because I won\u2019t be around too much longer.\u201d She grabbed his hand while she spoke.<\/p>\n
He felt her grasp, and the weight of her words. His fear also crept in and grabbed his chest. It took him a few tries before he could successfully stammer an \u201cokay\u201d out.<\/p>\n
She faced him and give him a little grin. \u201cI have something for you. It\u2019s at home, in an envelope on the dresser. When you go back, please open it.\u201d He nodded, and held her hand in both of his. Her face grew serious. \u201cYou need to promise me something.\u201d<\/p>\n
Steven nodded quickly.<\/p>\n
\u201cI want you to follow the instructions. Whatever I\u2019ve told you, you need to do.\u201d She paused at his confused look. \u201cI think God told me what to write, because He knew you wouldn\u2019t follow the instructions if He gave them to you. So you have to promise me.\u201d<\/p>\n
He leaned over and locked her gaze completely. It was the way he\u2019d held her gaze at the altar three years ago. \u201cI promise.\u201d<\/p>\n
A tear slid down the side of her face as she smiled. \u201cThank you.\u201d<\/p>\n
They spent the rest of the evening silently, his head against her shoulder as he slumped forward in the chair.<\/p>\n
* * * * *<\/p>\n
Steven stayed at the hospital with Tracie for two more days. When he woke up on the third morning, she was gone.<\/p>\n
PART 8<\/h3>\n
The last week of his retreat, and Steven was back on the couch, thinking. He felt tired, drained, devoid of all physical and emotional energy. His heart was sore; each week was spent ripping out memories and emotions, kissing them fervently goodbye, and handing them up to God. It was a visual he was familiar with, but incapable of spiritually fathoming. He knew he was losing the battle, because one relapse, one miscalculated feeling, would bring it all flooding back. He knew the problem wasn\u2019t being properly dealt with- instead, he was sweeping it away, effectively hiding it from sight until the next gust of wind blew it all into view.<\/p>\n
\u201cAn all-abounding love.\u201d<\/p>\n
The silence was broken. Since the storm had passed, the only noise he\u2019d heard this morning was the sound of the pillow falling on the floor. Now, the soft peace was broken.<\/p>\n
\u201cShe loved with all her heart. When she loved someone, they knew it, without a doubt.\u201d He pictured countless scenes of Tracie dancing with her friends and family. \u201cAnd she was much loved. You loved her more than anyone, right? More than I ever could; and I loved her\u2026\u201d His voice cracked. \u201cI loved her so much. So much<\/em>.\u201d Softer, whispering. \u201cSo much.\u201d<\/p>\nHe fell asleep, dreaming. Her voice, the last words he remembered so clearly: \u201cThank you.\u201d It wasn\u2019t just an acknowledgement of his promise. It was a sincere gratefulness. For what? His help? His selfishness?<\/p>\n
Steven woke in a sweat, head throbbing. The fire had kept going and made the room too warm. He kicked a few pieces of wood onto the hearth and pulled on his boots. It was dark outside.<\/p>\n
He turned on the outside lights and threw the door open. The wind had disappeared, and snow was falling quietly. He shut the door behind him and trudged out to the shed. A half-foot of snow covered the ground and crunched beneath his feet with each step. Stars, more than he\u2019d seen in a long time, were spread out across the sky in clumps, and scattered between were the falling flakes that melted on his face. Steven stopped halfway and stood still, breathing quietly in the silence, and trying to clear his head. With each flake that touched his hands and face, he imagined her hair brushing against him as he kissed her for the first time at the altar; as she leaned her head on his shoulders during the reception dinner; when she was buried in his chest at one of a hundred treatment centers. And he almost fell over with the realization that holding her was all he really could do before. She was a shadow on the surface of the world, and just like the snow on the ground, she had melted away.<\/p>\n
Steven almost lost it his mind. His stomach was churning and his head was spinning. He was angry and terrified and filled with an indescribable sorrow all at once. He grabbed his hair and yelled as loud as he could, as long as he could. It was the scream of a man who had been weakened beyond comprehension, brought down to his lowest point. And when his lungs were spent, he wept.<\/p>\n
The sobs of a broken man are the saddest sounds in the world. All the pain he feels, all the hopelessness and helplessness he has experienced, the understanding that his strength is not enough sometimes; It\u2019s all poured out upon the air, awaiting help. And the only help that can heal a broken man is in God. Steven knew this. So he turned his sobs upon his Lord. He cried out all his pain upon his God, and his God answered him. His heart was flooded with a Love full and rich and wondrous, of the kind he\u2019d never been filled with before. The emptiness of his soul, the aching in his heart, were healed with a Peace so eternal and warm, he\u2019d never be without again. His voice whispered, of its own accord. \u201cThank you.\u201d<\/p>\n
The snow, the falling contradiction to his now overflowing heart, rained down softly on his head as he lay, unmoving, untouched by the cold.<\/p>\n
When he rose, he turned and went back into the house. His first thought was sleep, but he decided against it. Instead, we want into the bedroom and retrieved a white envelope. It was hastily opened, and written in a flourish on the front was his name.<\/p>\n
Steven almost didn\u2019t open it. He knew he was done; his task had been fulfilled. But he pressed himself, and took the letter out. One last time, he would hear the voice of his wife through the written words. And then he would lay her to rest forever.<\/p>\n
\u201cLaughter.\u201dSteven mumbled the word, trying to trace it back to the beginning. \u201cHer happiness. Her spirit. She loved jokes.\u201d He ran his fingers through his hair and closed his eyes, remembering her face, her eyes, her smile. The empty cabin creaked as the wind carried on through the mountain ridge, and though the room was lit, only grey shown through the paneled windows.\u201cIt was her sense of humor.\u201d Steven said it aloud, and the room seemed to react to his voice. \u201cI loved her sense of humor. It was what I woke up to, and it got me through the toughest days. No one could laugh as much as she could.\u201d He leaned back in the overstuffed chair. \u201cI think God gave her that humor. You did, right? Your smile was hers.\u201d Once Steven had decided who he was actually talking to, his speech to no one in particular converted to a thoughtful monologue. Images of her, of both of them together, flashed around his head: She, laughing her sweet laugh, and he snorting atrociously beside her. He could always make her laugh, and she could always lift his spirits.He was smiling now, and remembering all the good things about her, her laughter. He wondered why it was always easier to remember emotions after they\u2019d been felt. He didn\u2019t want to go on having different memories- he wanted her back. \u201cTracie\u2026\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n Then he sat up quickly. \u201cNo. No, I\u2019m sorry.\u201d Shook his head, cleared his mind. \u201cGod, please tell her how much I miss her. You know. And let her know that this week, I\u2019m going to give back her laughter. I\u2019m going to offer it all back to you, and let you take every bit from me. And I\u2019m going to let you fill me with your own once more.\u201d<\/p>\n Steven got up from his chair and walked outside to the shed. He stayed there for three hours, and when it was dark, he went back to the cabin and fell asleep.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Four months after their engagement, Tracie came back from a checkup and told Steven they were testing her for a rare form of brain disease. They both waited the obligatory three weeks, praying and hoping for the best. When the results came back positive and Tracie was admitted to an intensive care center, Steven began to lose his faith. He stopped praying, cut off all fellowship with his church, and spent all his time and energy on Tracie. He refused to be the stereotypical selfish male who deserted his wife at the first sign of trouble. It wasn\u2019t until a month before their wedding day, just after the second MRI that afternoon, when Tracie turned to him and very quietly reminded him of his priorities.\u201cYou need to figure out which is more important to you. Because even if we make it through this, I\u2019m still not going to be around forever.\u201dIt was his final wake-up call, and Steven knew it. He had one chance to get his life back in order, or he\u2019d never be ready to marry her. So he spent that entire month praying. He prayed for forgiveness, for strength, for peace, and for his future wife to be healed. He wanted to trust God with the outcome, but still, he felt safer when he was working his hardest all the time.The eve of their wedding arrived, and Steven lassoed Tracie away from her girlfriends and sat her down. Her wonderful smile was covering her face, and her body was covered in particles of a still-unfinished wedding dress, but Steven looked straight into her eyes and held her gaze.<\/p>\n \u201cTracie, I need you to decide right now if I\u2019m worthy of you. Because if this goes wrong, and you can\u2019t rely on me-\u201c He stopped talking, because her face said so.<\/p>\n She hung her head and breathed in and out slowly. \u201cDid I scare you with what I said at the hospital?\u201d He looked away, and nodded slightly. \u201cOkay. Well, I\u2019m glad. I wanted to scare you, because I didn\u2019t want you to lose God. If you let God slip, everything slips.\u201d<\/p>\n He nodded again, and started to speak, but she stopped him. \u201cBut you know I love you. And even if you had forgotten God and you were still out of touch with Him, I\u2019d have still married you. There\u2019s nothing I would enjoy more than helping bring you back to Him. Then I would get to support you.\u201d<\/p>\n She paused and messed with his hair playfully. \u201cSteven, you\u2019ve been my man for the last couple months. No one else has worked so hard for me, ever. I thank you and love you for that, and I always will. Now go downstairs and have a cigar with the guys. We need to finish this dress.\u201d<\/p>\n He smiled back at her and kissed her cheek, helped her up, and then headed for his groomsmen. As he skipped down the stairs, he thanked God for his wife.<\/p>\n \u201cHer friendship. Before we were dating, we were friends. And we stayed friends after we were married. To me, her friendship was more important than her romance.\u201dSteven was slouched in his easy chair, mug in hand, watching the storm outside. The fireplace was warming the den from the below-freezing temperatures outside, the whistling sound of the wind and the thousands of tiny hard ice particles blowing against the window panes. The coziness was enough to put anyone to sleep within seconds, and Steven was having trouble staying awake. But he needed to find the third root, and after five hours of hard thought and prayer, he had.\u201cIt took me three years before I started dating her to figure out I could be her friend and her love interest side by side. So many people forget that, forget how important that quality is. She never did. Actually, she wouldn\u2019t take the relationship further unless I promised to still be her friend.\u201d Steven took a sip of coffee and smiled. \u201cI remember that. That was a weird night.\u201d He leaned back, reminiscing, and fell asleep.It was dark when he woke up, but he still began to put on his boots and coat, all the while talking. \u201cLord God, it was her friendship that got me through the last bit. I couldn\u2019t have done it on just romance- it\u2019s too weak on its own. But to have a friendship, a strong friendship built on solid emotions and actual Love\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n He opened the door a crack and had to shut it quickly. The storm had turned into a mini-blizzard, and he would have to wait until tomorrow. He turned away, then ignored the little caution in his head and plunged out to the porch, slamming the door behind him. Stumbling and bent over, he made his way to the shed, all the while thanking God for Tracie\u2019s friendship. His words were blown away the moment he spoke them, but Steven knew his audience could understand him perfectly.<\/p>\n The rest of that week was almost relaxing. Each day, Steven would spend his time completely absorbed in his Bible and finding every possible reference to friendship and relationships he possibly could. A few mornings, he got up early and ran down the mountain, singing all the best worship songs he could think of. He even caught himself smiling on several occasions. He prayed often, and though he received no communication back, he was sure he could make it the rest of the month.Sunday arrived, and Steven could feel his spirit sinking as he trudged out to the field behind the cabin, shovel in one hand and a bookbag in the other. When he got back at dusk that night, he noted the remarkable decline in interest he now felt, the dull throb of low self-worth and deepening apathy. He knew the lowest point was soon to come. And, as predicted, he spent most of Monday flat on the couch, unable to move, barely breathing, eyes wide open and bone dry. He couldn\u2019t think of Tracie\u2019s incredible blessings, or do any of what he was supposed to for three full days- only lie still and wish her there with him.* * * * *This wasn\u2019t the first time he\u2019d experienced this kind of depression. Almost two years into their marriage, Tracie\u2019s disease was getting progressively worse and the doctors were quickly running out of options. One day, they came home from an especially discouraging appointment. Steven left her in the bedroom to lie down for a bit, and walked into their small kitchen to get a glass of water and think. His job was making enough to support them both and pay for her treatments, and it left him plenty of time to spend with her; he wasn\u2019t worried about that.<\/p>\n He waited several minutes, then crept down the hall and quietly peeked into the bedroom. Tracie lay curled on the bed, breathing lightly and quietly humming in her sleep. The usual color in her face and glow in her skin had disappeared in the last few months, and her headaches had increased with terrifying ferocity. She was in daily, non-stop pain, and Steven could do nothing about it. He hated it. He hated her brain, and her disease, and he wanted to kill something.<\/p>\n Twenty minutes later, Tracie found him kneeling in front of the couch, fists clenched in a fearful sweat, hissing through his teeth and sobbing softly. She got to her knees next to him and put both arms around his waist. \u201cIt\u2019s okay, sweetie. I\u2019m okay.\u201d<\/p>\n * * * * *<\/p>\n Steven sobbed like that now, and wished the smooth, slender arms would appear and wrap around him, comfort him. But they didn\u2019t, and he knew they never would again.<\/p>\n The Thursday light, muffled by the light grey clouds blanketing the sky, began to bring a dull haze to the cabin. Evergreen trees outside the windows shook and bent as the wind picked up speed. A huge storm was nearing, but Steven paid no attention. After a long night of thinking and praying, he had just found a trail to follow, and was busy talking himself through it.\u201cLies. She hated lies. And no side-stepping, either. It was tell her straight, or don\u2019t tell her at all. Lies\u2026\u201d He ran his mind off-track, and struggled to concentrate. \u201cThis is getting harder and harder, you know. It was easy to think of her beauty the first week, but now I have to get deeper.\u201d He stopped and thought it through again.\u201cTruth\u2026her love for truth drove her. She was on an unstoppable hunt for the ultimate truth in everyone\u2019s life. She never accepted a lie as an excuse. And she never lied herself, and so she could tell when someone was lying to her. The face of falsity is ripped away by the strength of honesty.\u201dHe sat up. \u201cSo, Honesty?\u201d Is that a virtue? Yeah, that\u2019s a virtue. It\u2019s a Fruit of the Spirit, too, I think.\u201d He rubbed his eyes, crusted from dried tears and sleep. \u201cI\u2019ll never be as honest as she was, and I don\u2019t think I\u2019ll meet someone like that again, either.\u201d<\/p>\n Steven stood and paced the room for a moment. \u201cLord, help me to offer back her Honesty, her beautiful obsession with Truth. Help me develop those passions in my own life this week.\u201d<\/p>\n He ended his prayer, put on his boots, grabbed a few water bottles, and went out to the shed. He didn\u2019t come back for two days.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n The fifth week at the cabin, Steven began to get restless. He walked around both buildings when the storms let up, restoring rotted wood or repainting sealant. He scrubbed windows, added bathroom and bedroom fixtures, replaced damaged kitchen tiles, and even fixed several leaks in the plumbing and heating. Still, he took to running in the mornings and chopping wood in the afternoons, and these chores helped him to stay busy, and carry on his own restoration. Between swings of his ax, he could be heard muttering and speaking to the surrounding trees.<\/p>\n \u201cTracie was always joyful. She found joy in everything.\u201d Whump.<\/em> \u201cI think she even managed a smile the night she got the news. What the\u2013\u201c Whump.<\/em> \u201cIt never seemed fair to me. She got to be happy, and I was completely stressed out. You\u2019d think I had the friggin\u2019\u2013\u201c Whump.<\/em> \u201cWell, I needed her to be joyful, because I never would have made it through if she was as gloomy as me.\u201d<\/p>\n Steven put the ax down and brushed the sweat from his eyebrows before it froze. He remembered one of the countless times Tracie had kissed him, smiled, and touched his face when the depression was starting to close in. \u201cIt\u2019s in God\u2019s hands, Steven. Be joyful, for we have a Great Provider, and He knows what He\u2019s doing.\u201d The she\u2019d stretch her arms out as if waking up, throw her head back, and twirl in circles, laughing, until Steven caught her. It was his most beautiful memory of her, and now he had to find a way to lay it to rest this week. He picked up the ax and swung it high. Whump.<\/em><\/p>\n * * * * *<\/p>\n The storm, which had been holding off east of the range, suddenly turned and breached upon the mountain, covering the terrain in huge piles of snow and broken tree limbs. White-tailed deer ran by the windows in groups of two and three, and Steven even saw a bear lumber by in the relentless wind.<\/p>\n Inside, the fire in the hearth gave off enough heat to keep him from putting on a coat, although he needed his thick socks and a hooded jacket for comfort. It was the beginning of week six, and he was glad he had chopped wood for three days and fixed the outside enough to trust it in a storm this fierce. So as the coffee seeped through the strainer in a painfully slow drip, he went back to the previous subject and started his prayer.<\/p>\n \u201cI thought of it while I was back at Joy, but I didn\u2019t want to get distracted. So here\u2019s the next one: Hope. She was so joyful, because she was filled with Hope.\u201d He paused, thinking. \u201cShe didn\u2019t hope for impossible things, or selfish things. Not even for things, period. She had hope for each person in her life, that what she was going through would open eyes and move hearts. Everything she hoped for was exactly what You want.\u201d<\/p>\n The coffee finished, but Steven wasn\u2019t paying attention. He was bent over the counter, grasping his hair. \u201cI don\u2019t think I had the same hope she did. I wish I had.\u201d His voice was muffled by the jacket, and the room fell completely silent. He stood in this position, remembering, unable to forget. \u201cLord, she was my wife. She was my wife.<\/em> I married her three years ago.<\/em> I loved her more than I\u2019ve loved anyone else- even You.\u201d<\/p>\n He had said it. He\u2019d known it for a long time, but was too afraid to admit it. \u201cGod, You wouldn\u2019t take her from me because my priorities were wrong! You aren\u2019t cruel!\u201d Steven pushed away from the counter, shaking. \u201cShe had hope for me too! She prayed for me all the time, that I would put You back in Your place. No, that\u2019s not why. You aren\u2019t cruel.\u201d He regained control of his thoughts, and then his body. The quaking stopped, and he calmed down. \u201cLord, I\u2019m sorry. I have no right to blame you. Please help me through this week. Help me to lay her Hope to rest, in Your name.\u201d<\/p>\n The coffee sat in the clear pot, cold and untouched for the remainder of the night.<\/p>\n It was three in the afternoon, and Steven had just gotten back from his last shift that week. When he opened the front door and saw Tracie lying still on the floor, he lost his sane mind, and went into emergency mode. Checking her pulse and finding it still beating, he mechanically called 911 and then the specialist. When the response team arrived, he quickly briefed them, offered his help to no avail, and sat in the ambulance on the way to the hospital. When they successfully revived her, he was standing outside the glass wall, pacing and mentally checking every procedure he\u2019d performed in a frenzy to be sure he hadn\u2019t done something wrong. The doctor approached him and let him know she had been revived, and was now sleeping, fully monitored. Steven thanked him, stood for several moments with an twitch in his left hand, then walked into the bathroom and shook uncontrollably for twenty minutes. Even after he\u2019d recovered enough to unwrap his arms from his body, the short, sharp breathing from inside the stall worried someone enough to call a doctor, and Steven was taken to a recovery room until he could speak and inform the nurse he was fine.<\/p>\n A few hours later, when they let him in her room, and he was sitting and watching her, he heard a voice. It was one of those voices where he wasn\u2019t quite sure if it was God or one of the many in his head. He listened as it spoke: You\u2019re afraid of losing her. You\u2019re terrified, not just from fear of loss, but from your lack of control. She\u2019s dying, and YOU CAN’T DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT.<\/em><\/p>\n Steven grabbed his head and shook it intensely. He wouldn\u2019t listen to that. It wasn\u2019t hopeful, or encouraging. He needed comfort, and that was not comforting.<\/p>\n \u201cHi Steven.\u201d<\/p>\n He looked up quickly and grabbed Tracie\u2019s hand. \u201cBaby-\u201c<\/p>\n \u201cSteven, I love you so much, but you need to calm down.\u201d She smiled at him and stroked his arm.<\/p>\n \u201cTracie.\u201d He covered her hand with his. \u201cI found you on the floor. They said you had a seizure.\u201d<\/p>\n She pursed her lips and sighed through her nose. \u201cDid you get me here?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThe ambulance came.\u201d<\/p>\n She turned towards the ceiling and closed her eyes. Steven studied her profile; she looked so frail, and the tubes in her nose just added to her frailty. He felt his stomach sink and swallowed.<\/p>\n \u201cSteven, are you scared?\u201d Tracie spoke towards the roof, quietly, calmly.<\/p>\n He almost answered, then stopped himself. \u201cIs that a question you already know?\u201d<\/p>\n She nodded. \u201cYou can\u2019t be scared. You have to fight your fear and face this with me, because I won\u2019t be around too much longer.\u201d She grabbed his hand while she spoke.<\/p>\n He felt her grasp, and the weight of her words. His fear also crept in and grabbed his chest. It took him a few tries before he could successfully stammer an \u201cokay\u201d out.<\/p>\n She faced him and give him a little grin. \u201cI have something for you. It\u2019s at home, in an envelope on the dresser. When you go back, please open it.\u201d He nodded, and held her hand in both of his. Her face grew serious. \u201cYou need to promise me something.\u201d<\/p>\n Steven nodded quickly.<\/p>\n \u201cI want you to follow the instructions. Whatever I\u2019ve told you, you need to do.\u201d She paused at his confused look. \u201cI think God told me what to write, because He knew you wouldn\u2019t follow the instructions if He gave them to you. So you have to promise me.\u201d<\/p>\n He leaned over and locked her gaze completely. It was the way he\u2019d held her gaze at the altar three years ago. \u201cI promise.\u201d<\/p>\n A tear slid down the side of her face as she smiled. \u201cThank you.\u201d<\/p>\n They spent the rest of the evening silently, his head against her shoulder as he slumped forward in the chair.<\/p>\n * * * * *<\/p>\n Steven stayed at the hospital with Tracie for two more days. When he woke up on the third morning, she was gone.<\/p>\n The last week of his retreat, and Steven was back on the couch, thinking. He felt tired, drained, devoid of all physical and emotional energy. His heart was sore; each week was spent ripping out memories and emotions, kissing them fervently goodbye, and handing them up to God. It was a visual he was familiar with, but incapable of spiritually fathoming. He knew he was losing the battle, because one relapse, one miscalculated feeling, would bring it all flooding back. He knew the problem wasn\u2019t being properly dealt with- instead, he was sweeping it away, effectively hiding it from sight until the next gust of wind blew it all into view.<\/p>\n \u201cAn all-abounding love.\u201d<\/p>\n The silence was broken. Since the storm had passed, the only noise he\u2019d heard this morning was the sound of the pillow falling on the floor. Now, the soft peace was broken.<\/p>\n \u201cShe loved with all her heart. When she loved someone, they knew it, without a doubt.\u201d He pictured countless scenes of Tracie dancing with her friends and family. \u201cAnd she was much loved. You loved her more than anyone, right? More than I ever could; and I loved her\u2026\u201d His voice cracked. \u201cI loved her so much. So much<\/em>.\u201d Softer, whispering. \u201cSo much.\u201d<\/p>\n He fell asleep, dreaming. Her voice, the last words he remembered so clearly: \u201cThank you.\u201d It wasn\u2019t just an acknowledgement of his promise. It was a sincere gratefulness. For what? His help? His selfishness?<\/p>\n Steven woke in a sweat, head throbbing. The fire had kept going and made the room too warm. He kicked a few pieces of wood onto the hearth and pulled on his boots. It was dark outside.<\/p>\n He turned on the outside lights and threw the door open. The wind had disappeared, and snow was falling quietly. He shut the door behind him and trudged out to the shed. A half-foot of snow covered the ground and crunched beneath his feet with each step. Stars, more than he\u2019d seen in a long time, were spread out across the sky in clumps, and scattered between were the falling flakes that melted on his face. Steven stopped halfway and stood still, breathing quietly in the silence, and trying to clear his head. With each flake that touched his hands and face, he imagined her hair brushing against him as he kissed her for the first time at the altar; as she leaned her head on his shoulders during the reception dinner; when she was buried in his chest at one of a hundred treatment centers. And he almost fell over with the realization that holding her was all he really could do before. She was a shadow on the surface of the world, and just like the snow on the ground, she had melted away.<\/p>\n Steven almost lost it his mind. His stomach was churning and his head was spinning. He was angry and terrified and filled with an indescribable sorrow all at once. He grabbed his hair and yelled as loud as he could, as long as he could. It was the scream of a man who had been weakened beyond comprehension, brought down to his lowest point. And when his lungs were spent, he wept.<\/p>\n The sobs of a broken man are the saddest sounds in the world. All the pain he feels, all the hopelessness and helplessness he has experienced, the understanding that his strength is not enough sometimes; It\u2019s all poured out upon the air, awaiting help. And the only help that can heal a broken man is in God. Steven knew this. So he turned his sobs upon his Lord. He cried out all his pain upon his God, and his God answered him. His heart was flooded with a Love full and rich and wondrous, of the kind he\u2019d never been filled with before. The emptiness of his soul, the aching in his heart, were healed with a Peace so eternal and warm, he\u2019d never be without again. His voice whispered, of its own accord. \u201cThank you.\u201d<\/p>\n The snow, the falling contradiction to his now overflowing heart, rained down softly on his head as he lay, unmoving, untouched by the cold.<\/p>\n When he rose, he turned and went back into the house. His first thought was sleep, but he decided against it. Instead, we want into the bedroom and retrieved a white envelope. It was hastily opened, and written in a flourish on the front was his name.<\/p>\n Steven almost didn\u2019t open it. He knew he was done; his task had been fulfilled. But he pressed himself, and took the letter out. One last time, he would hear the voice of his wife through the written words. And then he would lay her to rest forever.<\/p>\nPART 2<\/h3>\n<\/div>\n
<\/a><\/h3>\nPART 3<\/h3>\n
PART 4<\/h3>\n<\/div>\n
<\/a><\/h3>\nPART 5<\/h3>\n
PART 6<\/h3>\n
<\/a><\/h3>\nPART 7<\/h3>\n
PART 8<\/h3>\n