You Are My Everything

Sunday, it was snowing, and my husband was recovering from Covid, so I took a shower and dressed in fresh pajamas. My plan for the day, skip church, go nowhere, and couch potato all day long.

Laying around, in my red, velour bathrobe, I looked up at my pajama-twin husband, and was suddenly so grateful that Covid had not captured his body, and that, in light of Ukraine’s frigid horror, we were safe from the storm, in our toasty home doing Wordles together.

That’s when a friend who’d recently lost her beloved husband came to mind. She’d moved since his death, so I sent her a quick text asking for her new address. She responded, and in a brief exchange, told me, in a sea of sorrow, God and her friends were her lifeline. When we were done, I clicked over to my Facebook feed. There on my tiny screen was a YouTube video of a turtle flipped over and drowning in a shallow concrete pond until the rest of the turtles swam underneath her and provided the solid ground she needed to right herself.

Immediately, I texted my friend back. “I think God meant this video for you.”

Afterwards, I shared the video on Facebook. Within moments, another friend who’d tragically lost her husband earlier in the year, saw my post and asked if I had a minute for a phone call. We talked about everything, the way you do with someone you’ve known for fifty years, and among our topics was her dad, a master organist at her childhood church.

When we parted, she said she’d text a video of the Westminster Abbey choir performing for the royal family accompanied by the Abbey’s pipe organ. We hung up, and I went back to watching the snow fall and relaxing with a mystery series on Prime. 

Next morning, I opened my friend’s video. Alone, again in my pajamas, I listened as the choir began, “Guide Me, Oh Thou Great Redeemer.” The camera panned from above. The long nave, lined with Romanesque arches ended in a gilded altar. Transepts to either side gave the towering cathedral the shape of a cross. This was the space in which William the Conqueror was crowned king in 1066.

I am not a thee and thou kind of girl, and we don’t worship at my church with old hymns, but oh my, I see why my friend sent it. The thunder of that organ in that ancient space, the chorus of voices, the fanfare of glistening trumpets, figuratively put me on my face before the majesty of an Almighty God who stooped to carry our human frailties and grief.

At one point, the video, focused on the face of Kate Middleton amidst the royal family. Somehow, she seemed unsure, even standing beside her husband, the future king of England. And suddenly, I saw Prince William as the adorable blonde boy who’d lost his mother to palace intrigue and the pitiless paparazzi. And I realized, every Christmas since, he’s spent without his mum.   

It may sound cliché to say it’s hard for those who’ve lost loved ones during the holiday season, but with close friends making that a reality not even royalty can escape, the lyrics of that classic hymn hit home. We are pilgrims in a barren land, weak, and desperate for our redeemer’s hand. And as our sorrows strip away the things of earth, we long for nothing but a strong deliverer, healing, and the death of death and hell’s destruction.

Let’s bring all this back to earth. The very next day, I tested positive for Covid, and it was my turn to be the turtle flipped over and flipped out.

Many turtles checked in, and on the third day of my illness, at break of day, my Westminster Abbey turtle sent me a Barry White video that made me laugh out loud.

So, whether it’s through his creation, his music, or a seemingly unrelated trinity of YouTube videos, may the Lord speak his comfort and peace to you this Christmas.

Lord, be our everything! 

Whom have I in heaven but you?
    I desire you more than anything on earth.
²⁶ My health may fail, and my spirit may grow weak,
    but God remains the strength of my heart;
    he is mine forever.

Psalm 73:25-26 (NLT)

Thanks to erin mckenna on Unsplash for the cover photo

Copyright 2022Ann C. Averill