In a Single Moment

It’s been two months since I learned my wonderful husband of thirty-eight years, Charlie Farrell, died in his sleep. He was sixty-one years old.

The call came at five a.m. When my phone first rang beside the hotel bed I quickly declined it, not recognizing the number. But when it rang again, this time with a dear friend’s name across the screen, my stomach clenched. I knew he was with Charlie at a men’s retreat, so why would he be calling me? Especially at such an early hour?

When I answered, all my friend said was that someone wanted to talk to me. However, the way his voice quivered did nothing to reassure me. Then another man’s voice spoke words no wife ever wants to hear: “Jenny, I’m afraid I have horrible news.”

Immediately, I said, “No!” dropping to my knees. But no amount of denial could make the words less true: the love of my life’s heart had stopped beating. Nothing would ever be able to bring him back.

I cannot begin to describe what that news did to me. It was as if I’d been cracked wide-open; torn in half. In that single moment, my life was forever altered. “Us” became “me.” After being together for so long, how would I ever do alone?

I was at the Heartbeat International conference in southern California when I learned of Charlie’s death. Before he’d dropped me off at the airport in Chicago, we’d been talking about my desire to restart my blog. My husband was encouraging me to focus more on my journal entries and real-life stories. He loved to read what I wrote during quiet moments with God and felt others would as well. Little did I know it would mean baring my soul during this journey of grief and loss.

Yet, I think what I am experiencing should be shared. Many others are grieving as well, for a myriad of reasons, and I want to be able to extend hope. Although my heart is breaking, I am also being held. Held by the God of the universe. I have a peace that steadies me in the midst of the storm that rages on.

We had a service, celebrating Charlie’s life, on April 21st. My children amazed me by singing one of my husband’s favorite songs, How Great Thou Art. In addition, all three of us sang a song by Casting Crowns, entitled, Oh My Soul.

My sister sent me the link to the song just after learning of Charlie’s death. Her accompanying text simply said, “You are not alone.” Lying in that hotel bed, even as the tears flowed freely, I sensed God’s blanket of peace in such a real way. At the same time I knew my husband was experiencing God’s love and peace without measure. He would be in God’s presence forever.

As real as my pain is, it cannot cancel out my joy that Charlie is no longer suffering. That he is completely healed. Whole. Free.

Until I see him again, I pray for the strength to cling to the One who will never leave me or forsake me.

 

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