"Upsetting the "normal" while creating the beautiful." Annette Kruschek |
I write to purge myself of the thoughts running through my head. I write to allow a space for those thoughts to have a resting place. I write to keep a diary of my relationship with God and the journey he continues to send me on throughout my time here on earth and finally I write because God has called me to the keyboard to document his unwavering faithfulness even in the midst of despair.
The picture you see above is my image of unwavering faithfulness. My intentions for writing this are not to bring hurt upon those who have suffered or are suffering but rather give me the space to share my honesty and ache for freedom of sorrow and pain. With that being said, I am glad you are here to allow me a moment to share my story of sorrow and love. "If you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all." I am sure you all have heard that phrase. I know I have used this phrase when talking to my kids, but what I never imagined is that I would use this as my own advice when it came to my marriage. Some background for those who don't know, Dan and I both met when we were 18. We had, (I won't say celebrated) our 25th wedding anniversary this past summer and have eight beautiful children. One would think we have walked through seasons of difficulties with our marriage and our relationship but that truly was seldom the issue. We agreed on many things. We were a great team in situations that tested not only our stamina of raising such a large family but also our commitment to caring for my ailing parents. I guess you could say the more life threw at us the more we would find a way to run with it and not look back. Then February 25, 2021 arrived and the hands of time stopped just as the image of my marriage came to a halt. Grief is a very ugly giant. It comes in and literally tramples over your entire "safe place" and leaves destruction in every direction you turn. For those of my readers who believe in the enemy I can fully testify to the fact that Satan is real and would love nothing more than to destroy what God has joined together for his good and his purpose. I will be honest though, for over a year I had a difficult time understanding God's purpose for our trials and complete despair. Our marriage was like looking at a home that had been hit by an earthquake... crushed at rattled at the foundation. It's hard to throw lifelines to others in the family when you don't have a preserver for you or your spouse. The best way to describe helping others in sorrow while living in sorrow is this... imagine my kids as buckets of water. The moment Evelyn passed away those buckets began to leak. In the beginning, multiple holes were draining and the buckets were pouring out faster than we could refill them. Having seven children who were all mourning in their own unique way made managing the leaking buckets similar to someone who balances spinning plates. I began to see how my marriage was crashing similar to plates dropping on the ground. How did we get here? Why were we being "punished", what did I do to deserve this life sentence? Sadness eventually turns to anger if not fully repaired. Anger in and of itself is really fear. Fear sets in rather quickly after a loved one passes. For me the fear was wondering if I could physically handle the heartache. Fear of learning how to live differently and in terms of my marriage, fear of losing my husband. I didn't know how we would find each other again. Our past experiences of jumping in headfirst and tackling problems together didn't even come close to helping us with the death of Evelyn. Everything in life changes when a child dies. The relationships you have with friends, your extended family, your life goals and yes, even a strong marriage of 25 years. Our marriage was hit to its core and our foundation needed repair from the ground up. "Faith, Hope and Love", "Blessed" "This family is built on love"... all these phrases and plaques that stared back at me after Evie passed only made me cynical, distrustful and hardened. I found myself hating Hobby Lobby and all the shops that boasted a "happily ever after". That wasn't my reality nor did it feel fair to be on this path of sorrow and marital loneliness. Dan and I needed our time and space to grieve in our own manner. The only problem with that is time is a thief and can rob you of your best friend if you allow too much time to pass that you forget one another. Our marriage needed an examination in the most vulnerable of ways. We needed to empty ourselves onto one another in order to find our way back to each other. Vulnerability in a way we never knew before. Being 18 years old and standing by the side of your soulmate one would think that everything has been discussed, but we realized that wasn't the case. During those months of despair and often silence I learned something. I didn't have a "lightbulb moment", "quick fix" or magic pill. I literally lifted my hands and found myself praying throughout the day. I'm fully transparent with my relationship with God. My prayers were not rote nor were they saved for bedtime or those designated for church. My prayers were conversations with God throughout the days, weeks and months ahead that would shake the foundation of my marriage. I remember walking out in the woods one day after feeling misunderstood and almost laughing saying to God, "Why?, I'm here and I'm asking for help but you continue to push me... why?" By the time I was finished with my walk I felt as if my one-way conversation with God suddenly had a faint voice talking back to me. It was a glimmer of clarity that I can't claim I came up with but rather a seed God placed in my hand. Since that day months ago I named that as my "seed of sorrow". The voice I felt as if I heard was God telling whispering the word "expectant". I took that word as my glimmer of hope and tucked it within my heart. "Expectant"... I was expecting God to answer my prayers. I was expecting my marriage to rebuild itself onto a new foundation after the monster of grief came rushing in. The beautiful thing about expectations is that there is a sense of hope that takes place. My prayers and conversations with God never ceased. I prayed with anticipation and expectation that he would move mountains just as he had done in the past. Evelyn's passing is not an indication that my prayers weren't answered. I saw firsthand how God moved mountains for her and through her. I saw God bring people to their faith, I felt God in every aspect of her life. That is hard to explain to those who struggle with their faith but as a Mother to Evelyn and a child of God it is not for me to judge God's ways, it is only important that I remain steadfast with who God is and will be forever. In terms of my marriage, God knew that Dan and I that would struggle but through the fires of grief we are finding our way back to each other. The fires of grief have only burned off that which was not intended for our marriage. I have learned that being completely vulnerable with my husband is something beautiful. We are rebuilding the foundation with vulnerability, commitment and of course trust. I gave my marriage to God for him to manage and repair. I needed to be more silent to really hear what God's plans were for us. I take zero credit. I will always give the credit to prayer and patience when God is control. Evelyn death didn't define our marriage nor the legacy of our family. Her life here on earth gave us the strength to make sure we shine her light brightly that it draws people to her spirit in heaven. I thank God every day for allowing me another day to live side by side with my best friend. That small little seed God placed in my hand during that walk in the woods has been gently planted. The seed of sorrow is emerging into a bud of stedfast love. I am also fully expecting God to answer my next prayer of celebrating my delayed 25th anniversary. :)
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AuthorI am a proud Mother to eight children and a wife to my very best friend. I work hard, play hard and love until it hurts. Archives
January 2023
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