The Gift of a Dream on Our Anniversary

By: Janet M. Norman

Today would have been our 31st wedding anniversary.

Thirty-one years.

Sometimes I can hardly believe that much time has passed. And sometimes it feels like yesterday.

I found myself talking to the Lord about Jason today. Not with polished words. Not with some beautiful, carefully constructed prayer.

Just honesty.

“Lord, I miss him.”

I miss my husband.

I miss my best friend.

I miss the man who knew me in ways no one else ever could. I miss the life we built, the ordinary days that I didn't realize would one day become some of my most treasured memories.

I miss hiking with him.

I miss Colorado.

I miss the mountains rising in front of us, the sound of our footsteps on the trail, the crisp air, the enormous sky, and the feeling that there was nowhere else we needed to be.

There was something about hiking together that I loved.

We were moving forward, side by side.

Sometimes we talked. Sometimes we were quiet.

Sometimes the trail was easy, and sometimes it took everything we had to keep climbing.

But we were together.

And now, years later, I understand something I couldn't have understood then:

Those hikes were more than hikes. They were little pictures of our life together.

We didn't always know what was around the next bend.

We simply kept walking.

Together.

---

Last night, after telling the Lord how much I missed Jason, I went to sleep.

And I dreamed of him.

I woke up with that strange tenderness that comes when a dream feels different from an ordinary dream.

For a moment, he was there.

And I was with him.

I can't explain exactly what that means, and I don't need to.

I simply received it as a gift.

Because sometimes I think our heavenly Father knows when His child needs a little tenderness.

He knows the places in our hearts that still ache.

He knows the anniversaries.

He knows the empty chair.

He knows the memories that suddenly wash over us.

He knows the person we still wish we could call.

And He knows how much we miss them.

What an incredible Father He is.

I had been telling Him that I missed Jason.

And then, in the mysterious quiet of sleep, I dreamed of the man I love.

Was it simply my heart remembering?

Perhaps.

Was it God's kindness to me?

I believe it was.

And I am grateful.

---

One of my favorite passages has been a kind of life rope for me:

“Always be joyful. Never stop praying. Be thankful in all circumstances—for this is God’s will for you who belong to Christ Jesus.”

1 Thessalonians 5:16–18

I have learned that being joyful does not mean I don't grieve.

Being thankful does not mean I don't miss Jason.

And praying does not mean I always understand what God is doing.

Sometimes joy and sorrow sit beside each other.

Sometimes gratitude comes with tears.

Sometimes worship sounds like,

“Thank You, Lord, even though this hurts.”

I think that is one of the greatest things Jesus has taught me through losing Jason.

He did not ask me to pretend I wasn't brokenhearted.

He met me there.

---

I have often thought about the mountains in Colorado.

The mountains are beautiful because they are big enough to remind us how small we are.

You can stand beneath a mountain and suddenly realize that you cannot control very much.

You cannot make the sun rise.

You cannot command the clouds.

You cannot hold back the wind.

You cannot stop a storm from coming across the ridge.

And yet, somehow, standing there can make you feel safe.

Because the God who created something so vast is holding you, too.

Jason and I walked those trails together.

And now I walk different trails without him.

There are days when I wish I could turn around and see him behind me.

There are days when I still want to tell him something.

There are days when I see something beautiful and instinctively think,

“Jason would love this.”

And sometimes I imagine that perhaps one day, when my earthly hiking is finished, I'll look up and realize that the greatest trail was always leading me home.

Until then, I keep walking.

---

I think that's what God has done for me.

He hasn't erased my love for Jason.

He hasn't erased our marriage.

He hasn't asked me to forget.

Instead, He has taken the love, the memories, the laughter, the grief, the loneliness, and even the broken pieces—and somehow He has continued to make a life from them.

A life I never would have chosen.

But a life He has faithfully carried me through.

There were moments when I honestly didn't know how I would make it through another day.

But I did.

Not because I was strong enough.

Because He was.

Psalm 34:18 says:

“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted; he rescues those whose spirits are crushed.”

I have lived that verse.

Not just read it.

Lived it.

God has been close.

In the mornings when I cried.

In the quiet evenings.

In the hikes.

In the classroom.

In the unexpected laughter.

In the tears that still come.

In the people He has placed in my life.

In the little moments when I suddenly notice something beautiful and remember that I am still here.

And last night, perhaps, He reminded me again.

---

Thirty-one years ago, I married my best friend.

I would give almost anything for one more hike in Colorado.

One more conversation.

One more ordinary day.

One more chance to walk beside him and hear his voice.

But I also know this:

Love doesn't disappear because someone dies.

And neither does God's faithfulness.

I will always love Jason.

I will always be grateful for the years God gave us.

And I will always carry a piece of those Colorado mountains in my heart—the trails we walked, the beauty we saw, and the memories we made.

But I am also learning to look ahead.

There are still trails in front of me.

There is still beauty to notice.

There are still people to love.

There is still work God has given me to do.

There are still ordinary moments where grace is waiting to be noticed.

And there is still Jesus.

The same Jesus who held me when I thought I couldn't take another step.

The same Jesus who met me in grief.

The same Jesus who has slowly taught me how to laugh again.

The same Jesus who reminds me that my story did not end on January 15, 2021.

And perhaps that is what I needed to remember most today.

I can miss Jason and still move forward.

I can grieve and still be joyful.

I can remember the love we shared and still receive the new things God has for me.

Because my hope was never ultimately in the life I had with Jason.

My hope is in Jesus.

So today, on what would have been our 31st anniversary, I am choosing to thank God.

For 25 years of marriage.

For my best friend.

For Colorado mountains and dusty trails.

For laughter.

For memories.

For a love I will always treasure.

For the tears.

For the healing.

For the life that came after.

And for the extraordinary kindness of a Father who knew that, on this particular night, His daughter simply needed to see the face of the man she loves.

So, Lord, thank You.

Thank You for Jason.

Thank You for our beautiful marriage.

Thank You for carrying me through the valley.

And thank You for reminding me that even when I cannot see the whole trail, You are still walking with me.

So today, I will let myself remember.

I will treasure the love, the laughter, the mountains, the trails, and the beautiful life Jason and I shared. I will let the tears fall when they come, because they are simply another expression of a love that mattered deeply.

And then I will keep walking.

Not because I have forgotten Jason.

Not because the journey has been easy.

But because the God who walked beside us through all those years is still walking beside me now.

There are still mountains to climb, trails to discover, sunsets to notice, and ordinary moments where His grace is waiting to be seen.

I don't know what lies around the next bend.

But I know Who holds my hand.

And so, with a grateful heart and tears in my eyes, I will continue this beautiful, sometimes difficult, always grace-filled journey with Jesus.

One step at a time.

One prayer at a time.

One memory at a time.

One ordinary moment at a time.

This is my joyful hike.

And I am so grateful that Jesus is walking it with me.