My husband passed away February 14th, 2017 after a two year battle with cancer.
To say he battled cancer is an understatement. He was hospitalized two weeks out of every month during the first year of treatment. He was hospitalized a total of 18 times. He was rushed to the emergency room 8 times. He spent close to 500 days separated from his two children over the course of two years. And eventually the chemo, designed to get rid of the cancer, caused him to be paralyzed. And for the last four months of his life he was paralyzed and confined to a bed.
I don't have my best friend with me anymore. And even though I take comfort in knowing he is in heaven I can't talk to my husband. I can't text him during the day. I can't share with him my frustrations. I can't hold his hand. I can't hug him. I can't kiss him. He is not here. And as I drive to church during the week, I am not thinking that I wish the leadership at my church would read "how to grow your church" books and adopt cool sermon series. I am thinking how desperate I need Jesus.
As I look at two young children who now have to grow up without their amazing dad by their side, I am not thinking of how cool it is that ministers are relating the message to a Hollywood film. I am thinking of how much I need Jesus.
When church leaders sit around and discuss how they can reach people, I don't think they have the widow in mind. I don't think they have the cancer patient in mind. I don't think they have the children who are growing up without a parent in mind. I am not paying attention to the church décor when I walk through the doors. I don't want to smell fresh brewed coffee in the lobby. I don't want to see a trendy pastor on the platform. I don't care about the graphics or the props on the platform. I am hurting in a way that is almost indescribable. My days are spent working full time. My nights are spent homeschooling and taking care of two young children. I don't have shared duties with a spouse anymore everything is on my plate. And when I go to church I desperately want to hear the Word of God.
Because there are days I am running on empty and a coffee bar in the lobby isn't filling me up. There are days when the pain is so brutal and a concert like setting is not providing healing. There are days when the tears won't stop and a trendsetting church is not what I need. I need Jesus. There are days I wonder if the pain is ever going to end and a couch on the platform is not providing answers.
On February 14, 2017 my husband passed away at the age of 31. He fought cancer for two years. In a moment I went from wife to widow and entered into the club no one wants to belong to. I have two young children. I am a homeschooling mom and work in the educational field. I attend First United Pentecostal Church in San Antonio, Texas.