I'll Never Get Over It

I think I’ve been doing it all wrong.

Have you ever had someone tell you a horrible story about betrayal or abandonment? Have you had someone share a memory about duplicity or treachery or disloyalty? Have they talked about severe abuse or neglect?

And at the end did they say “I’ll never get over it?”

I’m sure you’ve had that happen; maybe you’ve even been the person saying those painful words. I really don’t want to diminish those horrible experiences, but what about the opposite?

What about the blessings?

My son was married in a breathtakingly beautiful Catholic church in Manhattan a few years ago. During the rehearsal the night before the wedding, when my future daughter-in-law asked me to be in the procession, I was stunned.

The next day, which was as beautiful a day as you could imagine, we all lined up in the back of the church. Right before the bride was escorted to the altar by her mother and father, I walked down the aisle. Me. The mother-in-law to be. In my son’s wedding procession. It was one of the greatest honors of my life.

I’ll never get over it.

Nearly 25 years ago, as my neighbor and I began to develop our friendship, she encouraged me to read the bible every day. Along the way she led me to the words found in Ephesians 6, which describe the armor of God:

Put on the armor of God . . .

Stand fast with your loins girded in truth, clothed with righteousness as a breastplate, and your feet shod in readiness for the gospel of peace.

In all circumstances, hold faith as a shield, to quench all the flaming arrows of the evil one.

And take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God.

It’s a powerful concept, and it’s a powerful prayer when someone is going through a very hard time. It has given me great comfort to pray those words when someone I love is facing great difficulties. I am so grateful that I was introduced to that passage in the bible.

I’ll never get over it.

When I was a little girl, every evening when my dad came home from work, we would head into the garden together. I don’t remember talking very much, but his love for the soil, for the outdoors and for being with me were evident.

When I was five, he gave me a handful of seeds and told me to spread them anywhere I wanted. The next spring, there were pockets of daisies everywhere. I took one look, and I was hooked on gardening. Throughout my life, I have found peace and contentment working quietly in my flower beds. Gardening was a gift I was given to cherish.

I’ll never get over it.

And the kindness of God to me all of my life?

His goodness to me. His love for me?

I’ll never get over it.