There’s a poetic beauty in a woman writing the praises of her husband she’s admired and loved for decades. My friend, Karen, penned a perfect example of this as she reflected on her 36 years with Lawrence. A shortened version of her essay:
“Lawrence at twenty-eight looked good and had an athletic build with great looking legs. His hair was predominantly brown. His front hairline receded some, and he said “It’s just slipping off the top.” His hairy chest, arms, and legs looked like my teenage dream of a husband.
In the first week of our honeymoon he began a lifelong collection of rocks. At his request, the stonemason cemented two of our “honeymoon rocks” and others from our travels in our stone fireplace.
As I reflect on my memory of those first weeks, clues abounded about my husband: his love for his family, being out in nature, the ability to laugh at himself, and the nature of my future life.
Our favorite, evening ritual of sitting around a campfire commenced sometimes even before the sunset. The smell of pine straw, wood, and leaves burning was like no other. The ‘sit and stare time’ before a leaping, colorful fire mesmerized us all before bedtime.”
Fast forward her essay and Karen solemnly describes her last days with Lawrence:
“The abbreviated version is this; the dermatologist removed the first squamous cell from Lawrence’s right frontal scalp. The cancer was on the nerve which microscopically looked like flower petals around a stem. The internet prognosis said a five to ten year life expectancy.
Lawrence chose regardless, to live his life to the fullest. He intended to go out from this life by sliding into Heaven’s home base as he departed. His character qualities of joy, gentleness, kindness, patience, and love shown to children and parents alike brightened the community that year.
His family and even his rock collection stand as memorials to his life. His last adventure took him to Heaven. I yearn to know more about Heaven. I am in no hurry to get there, but when I do, it will be forever, and Home.”
“Psalm 139:16 in my own words says, “Before the day we were born, God knew the day he would call us home.”
In the midst of my own tears from reading Karen’s essay, I composed “Soothing Stones.”
Thank you, Karen, for sharing with us a bit of your time with Lawrence, for providing the spark and kindling for “Soothing Stones,” and for allowing me to share it with others.