One Powerful Kiss. June 2005
I instantly reached out and touched my cheek. “Aw,” I said out loud as I turned around to find out who 
had kissed me. Maybe it was just a dream, but, no, it felt so real. When my beloved husband passed away, my heart was laid to rest in a dead man’s chest. How could I go on? What a silly question, I told myself.
My husband, Buddy, and I, after one of the most frightening times of our lives, had both met the Lord. Because He lives, I could face the future without fear. I knew we would see each other again one day. God comforted my aching heart. But I was lonely and lost without the man who had called me Angel Face for over thirty-two years.
My daughter, Lynn, had been with us for six weeks. Whenever I
needed her, she was there. Like the morning Buddy was so weak he didn’t have the strength to get out of bed. He fell on the floor when tried to get up and make coffee. All I had to do was yell, “Lynn, help,” and she was there. When I was too exhausted to cook, she made her chocolate chip pancakes. During the long midnight hours, she was there. One night, around 2:00 AM I heard her quietly climbing the stairs. She slowly opened my bedroom door and peeked in. “Hi Lynn,” I said, “Do you need anything?”
“No,” she said, “I just came up to see if you were crying.”
My cheeks were wet with tears. My chest ached from crying..
But, she had a life of her own, back with her husband. I followed her outside the next morning and watched her little black Honda pull out of the winding drive. I waved until her car disappeared.
Back in the house, I forced my legs to carry me up the steps of our bi-level home. One step. Then another. I kept my eyes down, not wanting to look at the place where his hospital bed had been. The hustle and bustle of the hospice workers had ended. No more seeing the smile on my husband’s face after the nurse had given him a bath and a fresh shave. No more watching the nurse massage his tired and frail body. I remember when they asked him if he would like a massage. “Yeah,” he said, ” but only if my wife can have one too.” But I didn’t want to bother them.
The quiet and still of that large five-bedroom home on forty acres was deafening. Until the sound 
of my sobbing filled the empty rooms. Bone-weary I sat down on the couch and fell asleep, which I needed. I woke up when someone leaned over from behind and kissed me. But the couch was shoved tight against the wall. No one could have gotten back there. The door was locked. But… someone had kissed me. I turned around to see who was playing a trick on me. I faced an empty wall.
Still, the kiss warmed my cheek. The sweetest, most pure, and powerful kiss of my entire life. Was the kiss from my late husband? No, because the Bible says the dead have no power. From the Holy Spirit? From an Angel? From Jesus?
I don’t know who
kissed me, but I knew, at that precise moment, that God used
the kiss to comfort my shattered and aching soul. The sadness that
had gripped my heart and seemed to evaporate like the water in my geranium pots on a hot day. I jumped up from the couch and walked to the window. There was a lightness in my step. When I looked out the window of the sliding glass door I took a quick breath. One huge, Heavenly-Blue Morning Glory, Buddy’s favorite flower, bloomed in the planter that Buddy and I had built together. The first bloom from a season of nothing but abundant green leaves. The tears stopped for a while. I felt joy and a renewed strength. Like I could enjoy life again. A whole new world to discover and share.
That was one powerful kiss.