Good morning Lord, I know you’re there. You’re always in my life. The reason that I’m calling, Lord? I’m worried about my wife.
She’s eighty nine and failing. Her time is short, no doubt. She hasn’t given up, but Lord, I think she’s just worn out.
I remember when the two of us were young on this old ranch. We formed a bond that’s lasted long, just like a tree and branch.
A ranch was nothing new to her, the oldest of six girls. She worked the cattle every day. At night she wore her curls.
We started this together and I wondered how she’d do. But she worked each day beside me. She and I. We were the crew.
At haying time she fed the men. She earned that by default. And if you didn’t eat enough, for sure it was your fault.
She kept the books on this old place each night right by the fire. She’d shake her head and kid with me, “Why don’t we find a buyer?”
She taught our boys and daughter at the table, every night: “Stay close to one another and always choose what’s right.”
She made this place a home for us and never caused me strife. She stuck by me through thick and thin. She’s the love of my whole life.
Now, if it all was up to me I’d never leave her side. But you’re the one to make that call. Your way I will abide.
I worry, Lord. If she goes first, is someone there to care? Could you be waiting for her when she gets to that top stair?
So, Lord, I’m asking this of you. When she and I do part, is there a list of those you take who have a broken heart?
And if it takes a little while for me to get back there, please let her know I’m coming. Our lives again we’ll share.