Pray Hard & Speak Life

Spending six days confined in a small hospital room provides a lot of unrestricted time that can be used many ways. Some people will pass the time by watching TV, while others may read a book. Most of my time was spent looking out a window while reflecting on my life, the choices I had made, and the blessings I had overlooked along the way.

In June of 2014, my wife and I, both in our mid-thirties, were coming up on our fifteenth wedding anniversary. I desperately wanted to make this one special for her, as I had put her through a lot of pain throughout most of our marriage. Due to poor financial decisions, anniversaries of the past were nothing more than simple dinner dates at best. However, the hard work I had put into my job the previous year paid off in commissions, and I made plans to celebrate early. In December of 2013, I booked a prepaid vacation to Cancun, Mexico, and planned on surprising Tamika when we arrived at the airport.

Our flight was scheduled to leave for the four-night, all-inclusive vacation on June 30, 2014, and my anticipation was building since it was going to be the most relaxing trip of our marriage. However, life throws a curve ball sometimes; then again, sometimes it throws you more than one. In April 2014, I was let go from a job that I thought I would continue for the rest of my life. Debating on what to do about the trip, I decided it was best to tell Tamika about my anniversary surprise so we could discuss whether we should try to recoup some of the money, sell the vacation, or keep our plans.

After weighing out our options, we decided to continue on with our trip. As we were counting down the days, we never imagined something would keep us from our first week-long vacation without kids since 1999. However, there was a three-inch mass that stood in our way.

“This room is so small,” Tamika said disappointedly as she was wheeled into the room.

“It’s definitely not Cancun,” I replied as I took in the place we would call home for the next six days. As I opened the door of the tall, slender closet that was just wide enough to fit a pair of shoes, I reminded myself that it was not the quality of the room, but the quality of care we needed to focus on. Looking for a new location for our luggage, I noticed the window to the right of the closet and directly in front of Tamika’s bed offered a view of a brick building, while the window to the left offered a view overlooking the city. It was the window on the left where I began to reflect back to the day when our love began.

I imagined a life together full of love, peace, and happiness. However, I was young and ignorant to ways of the real world, especially when it came to marriage. Statistically, we had a fifty–fifty chance of our marriage ending in a divorce, but at the time, I didn’t know it. Besides, I was confident and knew we were meant to be together forever.