Opportunity Squandered

This morning at church we sang a lovely song, On Eagles Wings (Hillsongs), and it made me cry. Bad enough that all the worship songs reminded me of George and our time together in Redding, and I missed River Valley, my pastors and all my church family there. But I cried because George would’ve loved this song:


Here I am waiting, abide in me, I pray
Here I am longing for You
Hide me in Your love, bring me to my knees
May I know Jesus more and more

Come live in me all my life, take over
Come breathe in me, I will rise on eagle's wingsOne reason, because his favorite scripture is/was

Isaiah 40:31. But they that wait upon the LORD shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; they shall walk, and not faint.

But also because he loved the Lord so much and wanted to know Jesus more and more. (Any of you who knew George know he would have LOVED this song.) So I was remembering him and missing him. 
The other day a friend said she could tell what kind of a man my husband was by the pictures I'd posted on Facebook. She said it was in his eyes and in his smile.

She's right. He had a great smile.
When I think of the truly stupid things about which I would get on George’s case, the dumb little things that would irritate me, I am ashamed. I could’ve let them go, but I squandered my opportunity. Why? Maybe because I wanted to be right, or because I misunderstood his motivations. But mostly because of my pride. What I wanted was more important, my time more valuable. Especially if I was writing. I would often tell him, "I need to write. I’ll talk to you later." Now I wish I could take it all back, because "later" is no more.

As John Lennon once said, "Life is very short and there’s no time for fussing and fighting." I should’ve listened to John and Paul.

Maybe when we get married we think we have all the time in the world together. Truth is, we don’t know how much time we have with anyone. So why waste any of it "fussing and fighting"? Getting on your husband’s case? Making a big deal out of . . . nothing? (Picture me shaking my head.)

My friend, Monique, has a philosophy she sums up as, "I have to choose my battles." I think she’s very wise, and that I didn’t always choose well.

When George was sick, he’d often come into my office, sit on the couch, and say, "I know I’m bothering you, but. . . ."

My reply: "No. You’re not bothering me. There isn’t anything I’d rather do right now than talk to you."

And I meant every word.

Sometimes he’d nap there on the couch while I wrote. I’d glance at him from time to time, between chapters. I loved having him close. If he awoke, I immediately stopped working to listen to him, talk with him.

Every bit of irritation and impatience dissolved with the new circumstances. I wanted every minute with him I could get. How had I changed? God’s grace gift, that’s how. And I suspect that gift had always been available if I had received it.

Why did it take illness and death for me to learn such a valuable lesson? Opportunity squandered.

And I pray you won’t do the same.