The day of my wife's funeral dawned cloudy and gloomy. A torrential thunder-and-lightning storm began just as the first mourners arrived. But as the memorial service commenced, the sun came out and a radiant rainbow filled the sky over the church. Was that a heavenly message? It was, without any doubt.

Prayers and Diatribes
As my wife Carole's health declined, I was asked, “How are you, Dave?”

The emotional chaos I was in permitted no easy answer to that question. But a host of adjectives and phrases applied.

I was angry; I was mad at God; I felt crushed, cheated and robbed. I was also filled with gratitude for my 45 years with Carole, for our wonderful family and the multitude of our caring friends. With all of these contradictory feelings tumbling around inside me, I was an emotional wreck.

As a Christian and a lifelong member of The Salvation Army in London, Ont., I believe in God and I believe God loves us. But my daily prayers had turned into diatribes. I had serious arguments with God about the timing and unfairness of Carole's death. How could You do that to her? How could You do that to me? Why now? This isn't fair!

Messages of Hope
In the heat of one such angry tirade a few days before the funeral, I was stopped in mid-flight with a sense of God's presence.

Two very clear and calm messages entered my mind. The first was: “David, when would have been the correct time for Carole to die? Six years ago, when she was first diagnosed with breast cancer? A few years from now, wracked with ongoing pain and bedridden? Pain was not My wish for Carole. But this world, unlike Heaven, contains perpetual conflict between good and evil, right and wrong, happiness and sorrow.”

Then, to make the point even clearer, the second message came to me: “David, throughout your married life, you have always tried to be a true gentleman with Carole; you have always opened the door to let her enter first. As her Heavenly Father, should I not be able to hold open the door to her New Home and let her enter first?”

These thoughts definitely did not originate from me. I wasn't on the same page, or even the same book, for that matter.

Rainbow Promise
I've heard and read about such Spirit-filled encounters, but never really understood how it felt to have that experience. I now know and believe differently. In an instant, my finely honed anger disappeared.

I wish I could say that I had turned a corner after this encounter, that I had been rejuvenated, had become optimistic … but that would be a lie. I have, however, gained some perspective.

I've become calmer, less angry and bitter, and more reflective and appreciative. I still have a huge emotional knot in my stomach. That may never entirely disappear. However, instead of grieving over what might have been had Carole lived, I now treasure the time we had. I also know with absolute assurance that Carole and I had “a fine romance.” I have no regrets.

When I sensed God's presence, I knew without a doubt that, with His help and the support of family and friends, I would make it through the emotional fog that had surrounded me since my wife's death. The rainbow over the funeral only served to remind me, as it had with Noah (see Genesis 9:11-17), of God's covenant of love and grace. My personal rainbow has reappeared, and my faith has matured and deepened.