God dressed me for a funeral

I was to go to my friend’s wedding last Saturday. A girl I used to work with was getting married in Connecticut, and I was looking forward to driving out to see her.

The evening before the wedding, I went to buy myself some stockings. I ended up leaving the store with not only stockings, but a new black skirt. That night, I tried it all on. I pulled a pair of dress shoes from the back of my closet, fluffed my shirt and laid it all out on top of the clothes dryer in the bathroom, preparing for our trip the next day.

Two hours later, my brother died.

I was awoken at midnight from a deep sleep. My sister was standing over my bed, yelling at me.

"Danny is dead. Martha, Danny is dead."

She didn’t want me to find out over the phone. She drove to my house. When I didn’t awake from her pounding on my front door, she found a way inside the house and came into my bedroom to tell me the news.

I heard what she was saying, but was unable to process her words. I got up and started getting changed, readying myself to head to the hospital. I was shaking. I switched between sobbing uncontrollably and acting as if nothing had happened.

It all seemed like a dream, a really bad dream.

As we drove to the hospital, I began to think about how God had prepared me for that very moment.

I began to realize why my brother was on my mind all week, causing me to pray for him.

I began to realize why, for no apparent reason at all, I decided to fast that very day.

I began to realize why I had bought that black skirt.

God wasn’t preparing me for a wedding. He knew I’d be wearing it to a funeral.

I had never had anyone really close to me die before. I had often wondered how I’d react toward God once someone did. Would I get mad at God? Blame him or pull away from him?

But none of that happened.

Standing by my brother’s hospital bed, I felt as close to God as ever. It was as if God was standing right there, holding me up, giving me the strength I needed, giving me comfort for my weary heart.

I found comfort in the fact that God knew what was going to happen. He prepared me for it.

He is a God who is there for not only the big things, but the small things too... like dressing me for a day of sorrow and then holding my hand while he walked beside me through it.

– Martha