David, I know you are watching from Heaven. Please be with me during my surgery and help me not to be scared.
My half-opened eyes nervously squinted back in the mirror. That morning in the pre-dawn chill of my bathroom I felt an intense desire to talk with my late husband.
Perhaps God would let David hold my hand from afar.
During the past four weeks I had distracted myself with decorating the house for the holidays. I knew I would be off my feet for six weeks after my ankle operation. I needed to be organized.
Presents were purchased and wrapped. The outside lights strung. Multiple Santa figurines guarded the family room and a stately seven-foot spruce tree stood at attention in a nearby corner ready for tinsel and fancy balls.
When David and I married, the first ornament we put on our tree was his childhood slate-blue ball.
On one side, the large orb was inscribed with his name and the year of his birth in white flocking—David 1948.
Our children called it ‘Dad’s ball,’ and it has forever maintained its premier status.
Peeling back the yellowed tissue paper, I had plucked the fragile ball from its faded cardboard box.
I searched for a sturdy branch to support the weight of the ornament. I secured the metal clasp to the limb and stepped back to admire my work.
The familiar flocking of his name and year of birth faced towards the inside of the tree.
Worried if I removed the ball to switch it I might drop it in my haste, I left it in place and vowed to come back to fix it later.
Showered and dressed, I stumbled downstairs for a quick cup of coffee.
Oh darn, I forgot to check the tree’s water level last night!
How I hated to crawl on my stomach under the branches like a military soldier scooting under a line of barbed wire. But I filled the pitcher in resignation and headed into the family room.
When I turned on the wall switch to tend to my last Yuletide chore, the tiny colored lights on the tree flickered and I noticed the blue ornament facing me with its white lettering, David 1948.
You ARE here!
“Thank you God.”
I flicked off the switch and grabbed my purse. My ride was waiting to take me to the hospital.
Kim Kluxen Meredith is an award winning published author. Her book “Listen for the Whispers: Coping with Grief and Learning to Live Again” provides a platform for her national / international inspirational speaking engagements. More information about her message of hope and resilience can be found on her author web page at www.kimkluxenmeredith.com