01/12/2026
Whenever Robert traveled any distance—perhaps driving to an appointment or an airport or flying to another city—when he reached his destination, he would text me a single word: Safe. He wanted to let me know that he had arrived.
I'm writing to let you know that Robert is “safe.” My “DH” (dear husband) has arrived at his final destination. He is safely Home.
Over the last few days, several close friends and family members have kept vigil with me around Robert’s bed, singing hymns, praying, waiting, weeping . . . and worshiping. His children and grandchildren (who we were able to spend time with less than a month ago) said good-bye through FaceTime.
Last night, one of Robert’s brothers and his wife spent the night with me in the hospital room. Robert’s breathing had been slowing down, with longer pauses between each one.
Just before 5:00 this morning, I was prompted to play a beautiful song called “Come to Jesus.” The last stanza says:
And with your final heartbeat, kiss the world goodbye
Then go in peace, and laugh on Glory's side.
And fly to Jesus, fly to Jesus
Fly to Jesus and live.
On the phrase, “with your final heartbeat,” Robert took a gasping breath. We watched intently, waiting to see if he would take another one. It was to be his last.
At the end of the chorus, Robert’s brother said softly, with wonder and awe: “He just flew to Jesus!”
It was a sacred, glorious moment. An incredible gift from the Lord.
We left Robert’s tired, worn-out body in the hospital room. Soon it will be laid into the ground. But Robert has never been more alive. This faithful, courageous, precious man of God has entered his eternal rest and reward—not because of anything he did to deserve it, but because of the magnificent, redeeming grace and love of Christ.
Many tears have been shed in these days. And there will be many more to come. Robert loved me in a way I had never before imagined possible. The Lord gave us an amazing ten years together (122 months next week!), to joyfully love and serve Him, each other, and others. Robert has been an exquisite treasure to me. It feels surreal to think of him being gone.
But I know that one day, in the resurrection, Robert’s body will be transformed “into the likeness of [Christ’s] glorious body” (Phil 3:21). No more sickness, sadness, suffering, or sorrow.
Steve Green’s “Safely Home” has been ministering grace to my heart this morning. I hope you’ll take time to listen to it and to give thanks with me for God’s mercy in taking Robert to live in the house of the Lord forever.
“Today there's sorrow.
But joy tomorrow.
Safely home.”
