Alone. And yet... not alone.

I am writing this as I sip a cup of cocoa and look out the window, taking advantage of a few moments of WiFi before I get ready to pack my things and head back to Lansing. There was a gentle snowfall earlier, and now it's a bit heavier; the wind turns the snowflakes sideways for periods of time. I sat in this exact seat almost exactly two weeks ago trying to summarize my husband's life in an obituary. At that point, we were having squalls and were nervous about the roads, so I had a time constraint. Today, my only constraint is a mountain of laundry to do and then the trip home.

And tonight, I'll sleep in that house for the first time since last April. Alone.

Okay, Elvis will be with me, but it's just not the same.

And no, I won't really be alone. But those of you that have been in my position understand fully. Going back to a house once shared with a spouse, and now the spouse is gone.

This morning, I got up early, dusted the snow off the car, and drove into Marshall to church. I am so glad I did. The folks at Trinity Marshall have adopted me; this is the church I attend when I'm in town. I love the church I attended in my youth, don't get me wrong. But I just feel more at home at Trinity these days. The "house band" played today--comprised of mostly friends of mine. One of my friends, Marguerite, doubled as bass player and violinist. A young man I've not met played mandolin. And friends Paul, Phil, and Brooks rounded out the group on guitar, clarinet/oboe, and piano, respectively. The last hymn today was Torah Orah, which lends itself to some great klesmer playing, particularly by the clarinetist. When we sing that hymn at All Saints, I usually play fiddle with it. But with no restraint whatsoever. Improvisation, all the way! One of these days. Another favorite was the anthem today, which was God be in my Head, by Sidney Nicholson. And it was really nice to meet Pastor Anne, the new rector, in person today. I've gotten to know her a little bit over Facebook over the last few months, thanks to my friend Brooks.

Today's Epistle was very timely today: It was 1 Corinthians 13:1-13. And as it was read, I started to cry. You see, this is the famous "love chapter," the same one that was read at our wedding on September 3, 1994. And it could have easily described the love that grew within the last year. Quoted from the New Revised Standard Version of the Bible, it reads:

If I speak in the tongues of mortals and of angels, but do not have love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give away all my possessions, and if I hand over my body so that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing. Love is patient; love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices in the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends. But as for prophecies, they will come to an end; as for tongues, they will cease; as for knowledge, it will come to an end. When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child; when I became an adult, I put an end to childish ways. For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then we will see face to face. Now I know only in part; then I will know fully, even as I have been fully known. And now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; and the greatest of these is love.

Love NEVER ends. Never.

It's almost like the scriptures today were tailor-made for me. Psalm 71 verse 3 says, "Be my strong rock, a castle to keep me safe; you are my crag and my stronghold."

Do not be afraid. I am with you. That's the promise made to me. Lord, help me today and in the days, weeks, months ahead.

My cocoa is finished, and I think I'll go get that laundry done and head home. Keep me in your thoughts and prayers tonight.

The house is empty. And yet, it's not. It's filled with memories, and it's filled with God's love. Help me to remember that.