For some reason, beyond my ken—and hers too, I suspect—Linda, a committed Christian believer, had married me, who—while not perhaps the worst Christian since Attila the Hun—was certainly not making any claims to great faith. I thought that there probably was a God, but I didn’t really want Him to be messing with my life. I had—I thought—too much living to do. Linny just accepted me as I was; never nagged; never hinted; never tried to coerce; just loved me. I would formulate arguments aimed at justifying my lack of faith (why do we do that?) and she would steadfastly stick to her beliefs and refuse to be drawn into futile disputes.
What I didn’t know then was that she fasted two days a week and prayed every day for my salvation. Well, I can only fight off a certain amount of “total onslaught”. Although I talk about myself (after C.S. Lewis) as being dragged kicking and screaming onto the altar of the Lord, I have to admit that I was loved into the Kingdom of God by the amazing witness and tenacity of my wonderful wife.
It is through her presence in my life that I am who I am today. It is through her influence as a mother that I have three amazingly strong and loving children, in whom I can see her imprint in so much that they do.
I still wish that I could have died and that she could have been left here to be a far more capable parent and future grandparent than I could ever be. However, God had some other plan, so all that I can do is continue trying to keep going and to be the father and grand-dad that would make Linny proud.
While I wish that we could be celebrating our 36th wedding anniversary together, I can at least say: “Thank you for the thirty-three years that we had together. They were thirty-three years of love and fun and laughter, and I wouldn’t want my life to have been any different”.
I long for the day when we shall be re-united.