Outside my window the sun was shining and the birds were singing. Inside things were different. It had been a year that spring Sunday since my husband, George, had passed away, and I was still finding it hard to face the world alone.
I remembered one afternoon following an intense chemo treatment, George came home and collapsed onto the couch. The 1956 movie Carousel was on TV. In the film a man returns from heaven to visit his wife and daughter.
“You’ll Never Walk Alone,” he sang to them. “At the end of the storm/there’s a golden sky/And the sweet silver song of the lark.” George reached across the couch and took my hand as we watched together. Those words suddenly held special meaning for both of us.
And yet, I do walk alone, I told God on the way to church. Or at least that’s how I felt.
After communion, I returned to my seat just as the soprano began to sing: “When you walk through a storm/hold your head up high.” The melody was vaguely familiar. But this was no hymn I’d ever come across. No, these were the opening lines of “You’ll Never Walk Alone.”
Our church had never played a commercial song before, from as far back as I could remember. But today, for me, God had something very special in mind. Life’s carousel spun round through all seasons, but I would never ride it alone.
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