This is the second Christmas without Mary Helen, my helpmate of 61 years. But something is profoundly different this year.
Over three years ago, Mary Helen began her downward health spiral. Caring for her in our home was a sad privilege that filled each day with purpose. Her home-going plunged me into deep grief out of which I never thought I would emerge. I’ve written about that period in my book, A Man’s Journey Through Grief—The Candid memoir of a Jesus-Follower’s Struggles to Rebuild His Life after His Wife’s Death.
Many days, when unbidden tears flowed, I felt as if my life was over. I lost my drive to press on in the Christian race. Oh, I tried. “But what’s the point,” I thought. I felt any ministry I might have in the Kingdom was over. It was time to put any gifts I had away in the closet. Although writing had been a main part of my life for fifty years, any motivation to write fizzled. Projects took up unwanted space on my laptop’s hard drive. My file drawers seemed cluttered with useless ideas.
I tried to whip up enthusiasm any way I could. That spring, I drove through the countryside seeking to savour again the awakening earth, the wild flowers, the budding trees. But the spark was gone. Life down here was over. Perhaps God would soon take me home to join Mary Helen and other friends in the presence of the One who had become our Saviour and Lord.
Of all people, a Christian should know that life is never over. God always has something in mind for us to do. Indeed, beyond this life in the new heaven and earth we will have much opportunity for service.
But persevering down here with a cheerful, positive, hopeful outlook felt impossible. My life was in chaos. It had to be reconstructed. One of the losses that accompanied Mary Helen’s homegoing was the apparent distance it created from couples and women who had been friends with us through the years. I was now a widower. It was as if I had a sign on my forehead, “Keep your distance.” I felt this deeply and asked the Lord if it was not possible for a man to be friends with women beyond the complication of romance. After all, women had contributed much to our lives through the years. But as far as romance was concerned, I knew I was a one-woman man and Mary Helen was that woman. Period!
Meanwhile, people had been encouraging me to share my journey on Facebook. My candor elicited considerable response from those who identified with my struggles. I had joined a huge cohort of lonely people. In one post to a site for those with Pakistan experience, I had admitted that going to church was one of the loneliest times of the week. Church had been a central part of Mary Helen’s and my life together. Now it had become a puzzle. Where would I sit? Who would I sit beside? Most people were sitting with their family or in a group. Would people feel sorry for me? How quickly could I slip out?
I was rather surprised when someone responded to my post by echoing my questions. She explained how she felt the same way. As a widow, herself, she often sat alone. In subsequent posts she described how she had dealt with the loneliness by starting a Koffee Klatsch Sisterhood for the widows in her large church in Ohio.
One post led to others in which I learned of her involvement in theological training, her visitation and mentoring ministry, and her service in Pakistan and the United Arab Emirates. Interesting, I thought. We have a lot in common. Soon we began to text in earnest. “I need to meet her,” I thought. “But no!” “Isn’t this just one lonely soul finding another? Is it just a typical a rebound?” I told myself, “I need to put this out of my mind.” “I love Mary Helen. I will always love her. Why am I even considering this?”
But the sense of my affinity with this woman increased. I seemed to be falling in love—again. How could that be? I asked a close friend to pray for me to be wise and discerning. Phyliss and I began to pray in earnest for clarity and guidance from God. God gave us the assurance that we should at least meet in person, which we did. Impossible as it seems, we were both smitten.
Soon the ether was vibrating with our conversation. Here was someone with similar experiences that I could talk to. We met twice more and carried on daily conversation. And after engaging in rigorous prayer ourselves, considering the challenges of a US and Canadian relationship and our age difference, and testing our love in various ways, we concluded that our love was from God. Some in our family were cautiously supportive, others were rightly skeptical of this whirlwind romance. Admittedly, if I had been asked to advise two other seniors under similar circumstances, I would probably have been skeptical too.
But we had become sure that our love was a gracious gift of God given to renew and refresh us at a challenging time in our lives. We set a date and made preparations for a wedding.
In Ohio, Phyliss began preparing to leave her son and grandchildren behind along with her house, her church, all her mentees, the Koffee Klatch Sisterhood, and many dear friends. Her son, Bill helped her choose what to leave and what to take. Not easy. I’m sure she felt keenly the distance she would be embracing as she came to a new country, a new church, and a new husband.
In Port Hope, I began sorting through drawers and closets, getting rid of junk, clearing space for a new life with Phyliss. My daughter Debbie helped me sort through tea cups and other mementoes of her mother to share with the grandkids. They have very happy memories of Mary Helen. As do I. Sixty-one years.
We were married on September second. Even before this date, our decision was tested. Phyliss contracted Covid weeks beforehand. Then as the date approached, a tornado tore through her neighbourhood uprooting trees, tearing off branches and downing wires. The church where the ceremony was to take place lost two of its large trees, one of which shut down the main road and made access to the church inaccessible—until the day of the wedding.
Our honeymoon did not begin auspiciously either. Phyliss got laryngitis and when we returned, I got Covid which had begun to spread among a few at my church. And so began our adjustments to each other.
A new love. A love that parachuted into our lives unbidden. A providential surprise. In an earlier book entitled, The Surprises of Grace, I had described a whole list of surprising re-directions that God had brought into my life. From agnosticism to faith in Christ. From forestry to missions. From Toronto to South Carolina. From Bangladesh to Pakistan. From evangelism to ministry training. From missions to pastoral ministry. From preaching to writing. And on and on God led. Why should I be surprised at the unexpected turn my life took? But I was surprised. God has been so good, so gracious, so loving in giving me 61 years with Mary Helen. Why would he care about my life at this advanced age? But he does.
He saw that Phyliss and I needed each other. He had more work for her to do. He had more writing for me to do—and more ministry. Already he has given me two new opportunities. Obviously, he has more for both Phyliss and I to do together.
Does this mean that every shred to grief over Mary Helen’s homegoing has been washed away. Far from it. Sometimes I am torn into pieces by memories that swirl around me. I remember the day when my daughter Debbie left with her arms loaded with memorabilia to share with the grandkids. I could do nothing but collapse and weep. And occasionally, unbidden grief still sweeps over me. Not even a wonderful new love can erase 61 years of memories. The tendrils of Mary Helen’s love are still rooted in the deep places of my heart.
Does that mean that those memories will crowd out Phyliss’s love? No. Does it mean I should have steeled my heart against any new love and cherished my first love until I was called home myself. No. Does it mean I should have waited longer to re-marry. No. God’s interventions in our lives are not to be rejected. Both Phyliss and I have embraced a new adventure. The soul-deep love we have for each other has found a home in this condo in Port Hope.
Who can understand the mystery of love? In both our lives, this unexpected love has energized us to embrace God’s service with a renewed enthusiasm and energy. God is good all the time. He has surprises of grace around almost every corner!
(Let me know your thoughts on this subject. If you appreciate this blog, please pass it on. If I can help you spiritually, let me know. Further articles, books, and stories at: Facebook: Eric E Wright Twitter: @EricEWright1 LinkedIn: Eric Wright ; Eric’s books are available at: https://www.amazon.com/Eric-E.-Wright/e/B00355HPKK%3Fref=dbs_a_mng_rwt_scns_share)