I Will Be Here

Tomorrow morning, if you wake up and the sun does not appear, I want you to know this: I will be here. Through all the darkness that life can throw, through the moments that feel unending and heavy, I will be here. This is not just a sentiment or a fleeting thought—it is a promise rooted in the deepest parts of my heart, and in the One who has given us the gift of each other.

That awful day in March of 2024, our life changed in a moment that I will never forget. Tim collapsed, and suddenly the world as I knew it shifted. The ordinary rhythms of our lives—plans, routines, the comfort of normal days—were gone. In that moment, panic and fear took over, and yet, underneath all of it, there was a steady whisper of truth: I will be here. Not because I had all the answers, not because I could fix what was broken, but because love does not abandon, and faithfulness does not fail.

If in the dark we lose sight of love, hold my hand, and have no fear. Those early days were filled with fear—fear of what had happened, fear of what the future might hold, fear for Tim’s health, for his happiness, for our family. I would lie awake at night wondering if I could carry the weight, if he could carry it, if any of us could continue. And yet, I discovered something profound: in that darkness, love becomes stronger. It becomes a tether, an anchor, a lifeline. I promised him then that no matter how difficult the road became, I would be here.

I will be here when you feel like being quiet, when you need to speak your mind. Tim’s seizures and the struggles that came with them changed so much about our lives. There were days when he could not speak, days when his words were jumbled, and days when the weight of depression silenced him entirely. And through it all, I listened. I held space. I stayed beside him, not pushing, not judging, just being present. And he knew—and still knows—that in me, he always has someone who will be here.

I will be here when the laughter turns to crying, through the winning, losing, and trying. Life with Tim has never been easy, yet it has always been full. Full of hope, full of love, full of perseverance. We have celebrated victories, no matter how small, and we have mourned losses, no matter how heavy. Every moment, whether marked by joy or sorrow, has been an opportunity to choose each other, to choose faith, to choose hope. I have chosen, and will continue to choose, to be here.

Tomorrow morning, if you wake up and the future is unclear, I will be here. Uncertainty is a constant companion in our lives. There have been countless appointments, unanswered questions, setbacks, and days when we could not see the path forward. But uncertainty is never a reason to let go of each other, never a reason to let go of faith. In the haze of an unknown tomorrow, the only certainty I need to cling to is this: I will be here.

As sure as seasons are made for change, our lifetimes are made for years. Life is cyclical. There are winters, there are springs, there are summers of joy, autumns of reflection. There is growth, decline, rest, renewal. And just as the seasons faithfully arrive, so too will I be here—through the cycles of health and sickness, happiness and heartache, challenge and triumph. My promise is as steady as the turning of the earth, as constant as the sunrise we sometimes cannot see.

I will be here, and you can cry on my shoulder when the mirror tells us we’re older. Age comes for all of us. The years leave marks, the mirror tells stories we cannot always ignore, and the body and mind do not always move with the ease we once knew. Yet, in all of it, I will hold you. I will be here to remind you that beauty is not defined by youth, but by the courage to keep walking through life together, by the tenderness we share, and by the grace that fills every scar. I will hold you and cherish you through every reflection of who we are becoming together.

I will be here to watch you grow in beauty and tell you all the things you are to me. Tim’s heart, his mind, his spirit—every part of him is a treasure. Even on the days when the illness clouds his joy or takes his energy, he remains remarkable. I will speak the truth of his worth and remind him, and the world, of the beauty that exists within him. Our journey has taught me the power of words, of affirmation, of naming what is good and true. And I will be here to celebrate him, even when the world seems to overlook the magnificence of his being.

I will be true to the promise I have made: to him, and to the One who gave him to me. Our lives are gifts entrusted to each other. Every moment we share, every trial we face, is an opportunity to honor that sacred gift. I cannot promise that the road will be easy. I cannot promise that pain will never come. But I can promise steadfastness. I can promise that no matter what we face, I will be here—because love is greater than fear, faithfulness is stronger than despair, and grace is sufficient for every step of the journey.

The truth is, life is not about the absence of hardship. It is about presence. It is about showing up when it would be easier to walk away, speaking truth when silence is tempting, loving when it would be simpler to protect ourselves. It is about choosing, every single day, to be there for the person who shares our life, and to trust God with every step.

When Tim’s seizures take him by surprise, when his depression clouds his mind, when our plans are disrupted again and again, I am reminded that this is what commitment looks like in practice. It is not romanticized or poetic; it is raw, messy, exhausting, and holy. It is holding someone when they cannot hold themselves. It is loving in the midst of struggle. It is staying when leaving would be easier.

And here’s the miracle: in staying, in choosing love over fear, in being present, we are transformed. Our hearts grow stronger. Our trust deepens. Our faith becomes tangible. We have learned the beauty of resilience, the grace of endurance, and the quiet joy that emerges when we cling to each other and cling to God.

There have been mornings when the sun did not appear. There have been nights when the world felt impossibly dark. There have been days when I feared that hope had abandoned us. But in every one of those moments, He has been here. He has held us. He has guided us. And because of that, we have learned that love—faithful, unwavering, sacrificial love—is the greatest adventure of all.

I will be here to witness the small victories—the laughter that returns, the courage that emerges after a setback, the quiet moments when peace fills the spaces that fear once occupied. I will be here for the milestones, yes, but even more for the ordinary moments—the conversations, the hugs, the tears shared on a quiet afternoon. Those are the moments that define a life fully lived.

I will be here when you falter, when your strength wanes, when the world seems unfair. I will be here to remind you that grace is bigger than the struggle, that love is deeper than the pain, and that tomorrow always arrives with a chance to continue.

Because I have learned, through every trial, that life is not about perfection—it is about presence. It is about showing up, not only when it is easy, but especially when it is hard. It is about walking beside the person God has given you, and trusting Him with the steps you cannot see.

And so, I make this promise, in words and in actions: Tomorrow morning, if the sun does not appear, I will be here. When the road stretches long and the future is unclear, I will be here. When laughter turns to tears, when seasons change, when mirrors remind us of our age, when struggles threaten to undo us, when victories arrive and remind us of His goodness, I will be here.

Because love is a choice. Because faith is a practice. Because hope is a commitment. And because some promises are meant to last a lifetime.

I will be here for Tim, for our family, and for every moment that God entrusts to us. I will be here to celebrate beauty, to console grief, to walk through hardship, and to lift our hearts toward the One who sustains us. I will be here, unwavering, steadfast, faithful—because to be present, truly present, is the greatest gift I can give.

And in being here, in choosing presence over fear, love over despair, hope over hopelessness, I find that life, even in its most challenging seasons, is beautiful. It is rich. It is full. It is sacred. And I am grateful—grateful for Tim, for the journey we share, and for the God who makes every step possible.

So, tomorrow morning, and every day after that, if the sun does not appear, if the road is uncertain, if laughter turns to tears or tears to laughter, if the world feels heavy—know this: I will be here.

And we will walk through it together.