By Lisa 
My husband almost died three years ago.
He was hospitalized at Piedmont Hospital North, just a couple of miles from where we live now.
I had spent a lot of time at that hospital with Mama and Pop, and one of my doctors is in the attached medical building.
Mark wasn’t my husband then, and we had not even met.
I often wonder if our paths ever crossed and we missed meeting earlier, like in a romantic but tragic movie.
I couldn’t have met him then anyway because he was completely isolated from friends or family. He had COVID-19, the bad kind.
He couldn’t breathe without oxygen being pumped into his lungs through a thin plastic tube under his nose. Despite that, he often experienced air hunger when his lungs were filled with air but didn’t absorb oxygen correctly. He describes it now as a terrifying feeling of suffocation.
He remembers a respiratory therapist coming in his room and praying with him. He prayed The Shepherd’s Prayer, which scared Mark because it refers to the “valley of the shadow of death.”
He saw the same fellow a couple of days later, who was surprised to see him still…living.
Mark’s son was in another hospital with Covid-19. Even as sick as Mark was, his son was sicker.
He couldn’t go see him. They could only talk on the phone.
One day, his son called and told him that he was going to die.
And he did.
Mark grieved alone in the hospital. He later told me it was the lowest point of his life.
Mark said that after he had recovered somewhat but had lost 40 pounds and was still using a wheelchair, he saw Pastor Billy at his church. It had been several months, and Mark looked a lot different.
Pastor Billy, likely a little shocked by Mark’s appearance, said “God is really going to bless you this coming year.”
After we met, the church held its annual dinner for volunteers. Mark and I couldn’t attend, but the next time we went to church, he was handed a small award. The plaque read, “Resilience Award.”
Mark earned that, although it was an award no one else wanted. Not because it wasn’t true or appreciated, but…it sure is easier not to have to be…resilient.
Yesterday, sixty-three years ago, God blessed me with the birth of my best friend. God knew what we would go through in our lives: mistakes, deaths, and illnesses that would not be explained. He knew when we would miss meeting each other.
But God also knew we would finally meet when we were both 60, beaten and tired but with a small measure of faith left. And we would know for sure that He had put us together.
I knew the moment Mark turned around. We met in April and were married in September.
Pastor Billy was right. God is still and always in the blessing business.