My late husband was a handy man, but he never got around to fixing one thing…

Something was wrong with our basement light. I had to wiggle the switch repeatedly to get it to work and even then, more often than not, the light didn’t come on at all. "Don’t worry," my husband Dan, said, "I’ll take care of it." I believed him. Dan built that house; put up the walls and roof; did most of the wiring and plumbing himself.

The house was comfortable, one sunny floor and a basement that included Dan’s shop and my own workroom. Those four cozy walls were our warmth during the long, harsh Canadian winters in Minitonas; a small town 300 miles northwest of Winnipeg. Busy every day, Dan didn’t get around to the switch. Besides work in the house, he had equipment to keep up, bees and cattle to tend and farming to do.

It didn’t help that his back was bothering him. Once, he’d been able to do it all with no problem. But now, for some reason he tired easily and his back hurt so badly that he couldn’t lie down. Worried, we saw a doctor. Dan was diagnosed with cancer. Soon I was spending my weekends in Dan’s hospital room in Winnipeg. During the week, I continued to carry out my duties as a kindergarten teacher back home in Minitonas.

The house was so empty. Every time I peered down the stairs into the basement, I felt as if the darkness were going to swallow me.I know you are with me Lord, but I feel so alone.
After Dan died, I hardly knew what to do with myself. The thought of going down to the basement only made me feel worse. But I saw I couldn’t avoid it. There was work to be done and anyway, our deep freezer was down there.

The first time I opened the door at the top of the steps after Dan’s death; I paused and drew in a breath. I reached over and flipped the switch. The light went on immediately. It has worked perfectly ever since. No, Dan never got around to fixing that switch. But Someone did take care of it, Someone who fills all our emptiness with light.