Just got an e-mail from a pastor friend of mine whose wife has been fighting cancer for a while now. The fight is nearly over. She's in hospice after a long bout in the ER and ICU, and he's gone home to get some clothes and now he's going back to watch his wife die.
I know where she's going, and I know it's much better. No more tears, no more sadness, no more pain, no more cancer. Eternal joy in the presence of the true and living God. What could be better than that? But I'm sad. I was the one who set Mark and Beth up in the first place. She was the organist at one of the churches I preached in during my fourth year in seminary. He was a young pastor who came to North Dakota a year after me. They met online through an e-mail group, and I received e-mails from each of them within minutes of each other asking, "What do you know about him/her." That was it. And now this.
Beth, the angels are coming to bear you home. Mark, those same angels will comfort you with the knowledge that you will be reunited with her.
And me? I'm going to try to sleep now . . . after I wipe my eyes.