Kim Wilbanks

Where Were You When . . .

We all have days so momentous that the events are etched in our minds forever. Some of them, like the assassination of President Kennedy, astronaut Neil Armstrong stepping on the moon, the explosion of the Space Shuttle Challenger after take-off on a cold January morning, or the announcement of the verdict after the lengthy O.J. Simpson trial, are collective events that we remember forever. We remember where we were and what we were doing when the event occurred. I am too young to remember President Kennedy’s assassination, but I remember the other three events.

Some of these events are more personal, like our wedding day or the births of children. It could be a simple thing, like a phone call from a child. I still remember being on Broadway in Nashville, music blaring from the row of honky-tonks, when my son called to say he made his school’s varsity soccer team. We remember where we were and what we were doing when we received bad news — a scary diagnosis, a death in the family, or some sort of tragedy. Time seems to stand still at those significant moments.

I had such a moment a little over a year ago.

A Day I Will Never Forget

June 25, 2023, will forever be etched in my mind. My husband and I were nearing the end of a vacation trip in Iceland with our son, daughter-in-law, and infant grandson. It was a dreary Sunday morning. We met them for breakfast at a cute coffee shop in Reykjavik before doing some sightseeing. It wasn’t long before the baby got fussy and they took him home for a nap. We parted ways with plans to meet up later in the afternoon before dinner. 

Jim and I explored the city briefly, then headed to the waterfront. We went inside the concert hall on the shore of the bay. We planned to walk to The Sun Voyager, a modern sculpture of a Viking ship, and then to Höfdi House, the site of the historic summit between US President Ronald Regan and Soviet leader Mikhail Gorbachev in 1986. It was cold and drizzling rain. 

Just after we left the busy concert hall, but before we made it to the Sun Voyager sculpture, I received a text message. It was from my mom. 

A couple of days after we had left to go to Iceland, her doctor admitted her to the hospital for testing. I talked to her often, and she was upbeat and seemed to be doing well. She believed that the hospital would release her in a matter of days. Evidently, the results from the tests were not what she expected because the text message she sent to me and my brother said she was being released from the hospital into hospice care. She was saying goodbye.

I felt like I had been kicked in the gut. All I could do was sob while my husband embraced me in a comforting hug. I knew this day would eventually come, but I didn’t think it would be so soon.

One Year Later

Fast forward to this year. I expected the memories from last summer would weigh heavy on my mind. God knew it too. His infinite kindness brought things into my life to soften the painful memories.

I’m working through a book about grieving, Soul Care When You’re Grieving, by Edie Melson. It’s a wonderful book, especially if you’re creative. She shares a short story, a related prayer, and then a creative activity to help you work through your grief. One activity was to watch a sunrise, focus on everything you see and hear, and ask God for insight.

I woke up at 5:30 a.m. on June 26, my daughter’s birthday. When I walked into the living room, I saw a clear morning — not a cloud in the sky. It was a perfect morning to watch the sunrise. I got my dog Boone ready to go outside to take care of his business.  

The eastern sky was pale blue with an orange glow above the mountain ridge. A few clouds I had not seen earlier added interest, orange in one direction, gray in the other.

I walked Boone to another area where we watched the sky brighten. The birds were performing their morning symphony. My bird identification app let me know six different birds were performing right then. A rustling to my left caught my attention. It was a deer quietly munching on some grass and wildflowers. He glanced up at me as if to say “Good Morning” then went back to eating his breakfast. It was a miracle that my dog didn’t bark and scare him away.

The deer went down the road and Boone and I enjoyed the sunrise. He even posed for me to take some pictures. We stayed out long enough to watch the sun looking like a glowing orange ball of fire peeking up over the mountains. A new day.

What a gift from the Lord. It felt as if he was telling me, “I know you’re sad about your mom. I know you have had some dark days. Enjoy this beautiful sunrise and remember, it’s a new day. My mercies are new every morning (Lamentations 3:22-23.

Another Gift From God

And that’s not all. While we are reliving the sad memories of last summer, we are adding a new member to the family. My second grandson’s due date was June 27, 2024. We all hoped he would share a birthday with his aunt, but he waited another day. The timing is amazing. My daughter-in-law was in labor most of the day before my newest grandson made his debut. My husband and I had heard no news, so we were getting concerned. Just before we went to bed, he said, “Let’s pray for Gracyn and Wells.” It wasn’t five minutes before I had a text from my son letting us know the baby was here. When we saw the newborn picture with the time of birth, we realized our grandson had been born exactly when we had been praying. How kind of the Lord to give us this joyful occasion after experiencing such a sad one. 

The praise and worship song Goodness of God by Bethel Music and Jenn Johnson has been going through my mind a lot this summer. You should look it up. God has been faithful to me. He is a good God. I remember many times in my life when a blessing followed a tragedy. The birth of this new grandchild is one more to add to the list. I know that meeting him and holding him will erase some of the pain of last year’s hard summer. I imagine it looking like when you erase a whiteboard. Sometimes the faint image of what you erased remains, just not as bold as before. Thank you, Lord.

How about you? Have you experienced this as well? Have you seen times of sadness followed by times of blessing? I’d love to hear.