In case you didn’t read Sunday’s post, I’m doing something a little different this week. In honor of Valentine’s Week, I’ve chosen to host a series of guest posts from some widow friends of mine. Each of these lovely gals will be sharing about their Valentine that now lives in Heaven. To recap the week so far (by the way, I have two more Valentine’s posts scheduled for Saturday and Sunday too!), we heard from Candy on Monday, Sheila on Tuesday, Cindy on Wednesday, Renee on Thursday, and today we get the pleasure of hearing from Danita, who will introduce us to her precious Dave. I first met Danita this past summer at a speaking/writing conference I attended. She and I were introduced, because Danita has traveled the widow’s road for 8 years now, and at that point – I was only 11 weeks in. I will never forget Saturday night of the conference. I had a complete, hysterical meltdown after worship. At some point during this ordeal, Danita knelt down beside me and recited Psalm 16 in my ear. I will NEVER forget that! I remember little about that moment, but I remember THAT! Since that July weekend, I’ve also joined Danita as a member of the writing team for A Widow’s Might blog for widows. You can also find Danita on her personal website: Faithful Flipflops. Please join me in welcoming this precious woman to Out of Deep Waters. And now…here’s Danita…
Danita and Dave
In 1987, my name was Danita Dalton. That January, I met David Dalton Hiles at a party. Yep, that’s right. Dalton. His middle name was my maiden name. We had to get out driver’s licenses to prove it! Further party talk revealed that we were both related to different cousins from the Dalton gang. The roots of our family trees were connected. Sort of. Distantly related bank robbers with a reign of terror in Coffeeville Kansas in the late 1800s. Nice.
Besides the name thing, it was truly a case of opposites attracting. North vs South. Pittsburgh Steelers vs Washington Redskins. Family of all boys vs family of all girls. Roman Catholic altar boy meets non-denominational charismatic Jesus girl. Clean freak vs cluttered female. Navy man vs Air Force brat. Coke vs Pepsi. A thinker vs a talker. And the list goes on. Sigh.
Doesn’t God have a sense of humor?
Somehow we made it work. And 15 years later and two darling girls later, when I said my unbelievably unexpected goodbyes in a Honolulu emergency room, I had to smile through the tears, because He did indeed ‘work all things together for good’. My officer and a gentleman was indeed that. He made me laugh every day (even when I wanted to stay mad!) Little gifts just because. Helping out just came naturally. I often said nothing is sexier than a man unloading the dishwasher or folding laundry! Our romance was more of an everyday variety than a roses and cards on ‘special occasions’ type.
Perfect – not hardly. Fights? O yes, there were plenty of those. I wanted to discuss everything to death. ‘Honey, we need to talk…’ He wanted to sweep it all under the carpet and avoid those elephants smelling up the corner of our living room. Somehow, we usually managed to meet in the middle. Sometimes, after an evening of awkward silence. Sometimes following lots of talking and tears (usually mine). Sometimes right away.
Marriage is truly the most difficult thing I have ever done. And I wouldn’t have traded it for the world! I miss those silly connecting phone calls in the middle of the day and someone bringing me coffee in bed. Sitting next to him watching our girls do anything and being proud together. Seeing him at the back of the room with arms raised while I led worship for our Awanas kids. A shared look across a crowded party that said, ‘I know, babe, me too’. Being part of a team. A ‘we’ instead of an I.
Six months after Dave died, the girls and I returned to our home church in Honolulu for a visit. It happened to be Wednesday night. Awanas night. And in that place of so many ‘Dave’ memories, I realized something. Looking towards the back of the room where he ‘should’ have been standing, arms lifted in worship, I realized that he was instead standing in the throne room of heaven, worshipping God in person. Doing what we all were created to do. Loving and being loved perfectly. Sometimes I need a reminder of that. Not sure how the whole heaven thing works, but I like to imagine him getting to peek in on us every now and then, seeing his girls grow up. Being a part of the ‘cloud of witnesses’ that is cheering us on. ‘You’re doing great, babe. I’m proud of you!’
