I had still not experienced my most significant confrontation with his death. That came the first time I went to his grave alone, three months after his death. I had not planned a graveside visit, but decided to go after I got lost looking for a store and found myself just one street over from the cemetery.

     It was a beautiful day, a vivid contrast to the brutal weather that claimed his life. I slowly walked up to Kelly’s grave and decided to sit down and spend some time. Some of the turned over dirt hadn’t quite settled down from his burial.

     Then a very dark thing happened. It dawned on me that he was only a few feet away, and a sensation took over my body. I wanted to get him out of there, and for a split second I wanted to reach out and start clawing at the dirt. I felt once again he was trapped. First it was the snow cave, and now it was his grave. He wasn’t supposed to be there under that dirt. I still wanted to rescue him and bring him home to me. It wasn’t right.

     I pleaded to God to do something that I knew would never happen. I begged, “God, please! I believe You are a God of miracles. I know Jesus raised Lazarus from the dead, so why can’t You raise Kelly?” Even as I said it, I knew what I was asking was crazy, but in that moment of desperation to get my husband back, I wanted to pull out all the stops and confront God with everything I had learned was in His capability. After I said this, I felt foolish.

     While I knew God was listening, I believed that He was not going to participate in this conversation. He loved me and was there with me, but He was watching more as a loving parent when a child falls down to see if she will try to get up on her own.

© Karen James. All Rights Reserved (Thomas Nelson Publishers, 2008)

Read "Adventure"- Chapter 16 Excerpt  |   Read "Love"- Chapter 10 Excerpt