At 103 years young, Edith Jenkins was a walking, talking testament to Adventist longevity. A card-carrying Blue Zoner, she had lived Loma Linda life to the full. Lounging in her beloved rocking chair, Edith’s mind wandered to one of life’s most pressing enigmas: her husbands.
You see, Edith had waltzed down the aisle not once, not twice, but a staggering four times. Each marriage, a rollercoaster ride of love, loss, and Sabbath keeping. Her first beau, James, had been snatched away in his prime, leaving Edith to mourn the loss of her teenage dream. Then came Richard, a military medic with a jawline that could cut through steel and a heart of gold. But alas, Richard’s heroics ended in a final, tragic act, leaving Edith to plan yet another funeral.
Undeterred by widowhood, Edith dove headfirst into marriage number three, this time with Samuel, a man whose kindness rivaled that of Mother Teresa. They danced (more like a Pathfinder march) through life together until Samuel’s departure, leaving Edith to face the world solo once more.
But Edith was nothing if not resilient. So, she dusted off her Sabbath best and hit the dating scene once again, where she stumbled upon Harold, a silver fox with a knack for charming the socks off of any Adventist lady within a ten-mile radius. Their whirlwind romance ended in wedding bells, marking Edith’s fourth (and hopefully final) trip down the aisle.
As she rocked back and forth in her chair, basking in the afternoon sun, Edith couldn’t help but ponder the absurdity of it all. What would it be like, she wondered, to reunite with all four husbands in the pearly gates of heaven? Definitely awkward.
A wry smile played on her lips. “Reunions are all well and good,” she mused, “but honestly, at 103, all I’m asking for in heaven is a break from explaining myself. Four husbands in one lifetime is a blessing… or a test from the Lord, depending on the day.”
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