I want to ask all of you to join me in praying for this beautiful woman.
I saw her post today, and it hit my heart like a hundred people sitting on my chest. The kind of pain that instantly takes you somewhere you've been before. It brought me right back to sitting beside my own mother in hospice, waiting and wondering when that final moment would come. I remember the thoughts that raced through my mind. The things I wished I had done better. The words I should have said. The words I wish I hadn't said. The memories, the regrets, the gratitude, the fear, and the overwhelming realization of just how much someone loved you all along.
Even after my mother passed away, I continued discovering beautiful things about her. Stories I never knew. Quiet acts of kindness. Sacrifices she made without ever asking for recognition. The older I get, the more I understand the depth of her love and the extraordinary woman she truly was.
Today, my heart is with our friend and sister in Christ, Markey Blue.
She is sitting beside her husband in hospice after a long and difficult journey. So many of us have watched her put her own life on hold year after year to care for someone she loves. We have watched her choose devotion over convenience, sacrifice over comfort, and faith over frustration.
Marky, if there is one thing I hope you hear today, it is this: you should have no regrets.
You have been the very definition of what a loving wife should be. You put his needs before your own. You made sure he was never alone. Even when life demanded something from you, you always made sure someone was there to care for him if you had to step away for a moment. You showed up on the hard days, the exhausting days, the uncertain days, and the heartbreaking days. You loved him through all of it.
Not everyone gets to experience that kind of love in a lifetime.
Your husband was blessed beyond measure to have a wife who stood beside him the way you have. As difficult as this season is, I hope you can find comfort in knowing that love like yours does not end here. It simply changes form.
I imagine Heaven preparing for the arrival of a musician and producer. I imagine angels tuning guitars, adjusting microphones, and gathering around for a celebration unlike anything we can comprehend. I imagine a grand reunion filled with melodies more beautiful than anything ever recorded on Earth. Songs without pain. Harmonies without sorrow. Music that carries perfect peace.
I imagine him standing tall again, healthy again, whole again.
And I imagine him smiling as he looks back over a life where he was deeply loved by a woman who believed in him, supported him, and walked beside him through every chapter.
He was proud of you, Marky.
He believed in your gifts, your dreams, your talents, and your calling. He cheered for your victories and stood behind you when others couldn't see what was possible. That kind of love leaves fingerprints on a soul forever.
When someone we love is preparing for Heaven, our hearts often focus on what we are about to lose. But perhaps Heaven is focused on what it is about to gain. A faithful husband, talented musician, a creative spirit, a man who was loved deeply.
And one day, when the music starts and the reunion comes, there won't be sickness, hospice rooms, goodbyes, or tears.
Until then, may God's arms wrap around you. May His peace quiet the fears that words cannot touch. May His strength carry you through the moments that feel impossible. And may you always remember that the greatest measure of a life is not how long we lived, but how deeply we were loved.
And by that measure, your husband has lived a beautiful life.
And Marky, I chose this photograph for today because it tells a beautiful story without saying a word.
As the sun filters through the blinds and settles across your face, I see a woman reflecting on a lifetime of love. Your eyes seem to look beyond the room, beyond today's pain, and toward something greater.
What moves me most is that you don't look like someone waiting. You look like someone who believes. Someone whose faith is stronger than her fear.
The horizon may separate you for a season, but only for a season. One day, your husband will be whole again, strong, healthy, and free from every burden he carried here.
Until then, I hope this image reminds you of the love you've shared, the life you've built together, and the promise that this is not the end of your story.
He's not gone. He's simply just beyond the horizon.
And love, real love, always finds its way home.
Please keep Marky and her family in your prayers tonight.
