Continuing the Journey

 I woke last night shaking violently, hyperventilating, and calling your name. I curled up in a fetal position, rocked side to side and told myself repeatedly, “You’re okay; you’re safe.” But the emptiness that surrounded me and seeped into my very soul told me, “No, you’re not okay. You never will be.” I was there on the mountain again, trying to put the pieces of you back together—trying to save you. I felt so helpless and inadequate. I felt responsible. I was the one who wanted to go hiking. I was the one who tried to stop the incessant bleeding. I was the one who failed. I wasn’t even by your side when you took your last breath. You died with strangers surrounding you trying desperately to revive you. I am so sorry that I was not there holding your hand, as I did every night when you went to sleep.

 We are surviving. We move cautiously forward, taking baby steps into the future knowing that in any moment, in the blink of an eye, our lives can drastically change without any warning. We have little to no control, yet we try to organize our lives in such a way to minimize risks. We manipulate what we can, giving ourselves a false sense of security. However, beneath the façade we present to the world, we are terrified, uncertain, and longing for some semblance of sanity. We lost so much when we lost you. The secondary and even tertiary losses continue to present themselves daily. Will we ever feel settled again? You were our foundation and safety net. You loved endlessly and passionately. It is truly a difficult task to walk through the drudgery of life without your vivacious spirit to guide us along the way.

God has continued to hold our heads above the water, but I won’t lie. Sometimes I still feel like I’m drowning. Though every day I continue to crawl out of bed and find something to be grateful for. I look for the beauty in this life rather than the darkness that threatens to consume us all. I pray that I will somehow bring joy to someone who needs it. I want others to leave my presence feeling better than before they entered it. That is my goal—to share light and joy even when I do not feel it.

We miss you! We always will, but I know we must continue to live. We do not have the option of giving up, so we continue to strive. We will make it and we have made it. It’s just that some days are a little more difficult than others, especially when I wake in the middle of the night reliving the day I could not save you.

A Look Back

 Sometimes we must look back to see how far we have travelled, even though the rearview mirror may reflect the horrific images of death and trauma. I have had images of the past litter the road before me all day long. “Why does Woody’s death consume me today?” I questioned an empty room as I sat alone in my office. I pulled an old journal from a box from 2016, the year after Woody’s traumatic death, and I read. In those pages I found a very broken, terrified woman who had no idea how to survive without the man she had always relied on. He had been her everything! I realized then that the woman who had written those words with tears falling onto the pages no longer exists. She has been replaced by a woman of resilience who has learned to rely solely on God. She has disappeared and I wonder if the woman who was able to love a man so completely will ever return.

As I watch all three of my children, five if you count their significant others, interact my heart is full of gratitude. The woman who parented them in the years following Woody’s death did not know how to guide them and made so many mistakes. However, in spite of her they are here today laughing and loving. My relationship with them is better than it has ever been, especially with my darling daughter. As I embraced her today and held her tightly, I was so full of awe. I never thought we would get to this point. We were completely shattered by Woody’s death and damaged each other significantly as we muddled our way through the grief. Yet, here we are today best friends who cannot get enough of each other.

I am thankful for this brief escapade through my past. I needed it to see how far we have travelled, and I cannot help but wonder how far we have yet to go. I know God is not finished with our story. There is still so much of it to write. But for today I will be thankful we have survived, and we are finally beginning to find our way into the future.

           

Finally Moving Forward

 

May 10, 2022—seven years since the day that catapulted our family onto a course we never would have chosen and did not want to take. It is unconceivable to most what we have endured and just how deeply that day impacted who we are. I barely recognize the woman who has emerged from the ashes, and I often wonder what Woody would think if he met me now.

However, there is something mythical about the number seven, which is often portrayed biblically as a number of perfection or completeness. Something has been shifting during this seventh year and continues to do so as we head for year number eight. I find that I am finally ready to lay down the burden I have been carrying for so long—to close the door on the trauma—and to begin life anew. I want to laugh and live with abandon. I want to love again. I am ready to be vulnerable and to demolish the walls I have so meticulously built around my heart.

Although these feelings are somewhat surreal and surprising, I cannot let fear dictate my course anymore. For too long we have been barely surviving in the shadow of fear. I am ready to walk boldly—well…maybe timidly—into the light and discover what might be waiting for me. I am in a new city with the family and friends who have carried me through the darkness and into the radiant day, and I am finally willing to embrace all that awaits and to bury the sorrow. I know the trauma will always accompany me, but no longer will I allow it to determine the course I shall take. From now on, I will allow hope to guide my way as I finally move forward.

Happily Ever After?

The Christmas cards arrive sporadically, photos full of handsome faces and wishes for a joyful holiday season. Couples with their children smile at us from the cardstock greetings, and I find my emotions are as sporadic as the cards. “Why do they get their happily ever after?” I question. “Why do their children get to find success without trauma induced decisions that will define them for the rest of their lives?” Another question without an answer—and I realize how pathetic I am.

I wish I could look at the beautiful families that greet me from the two-dimensional realm and feel nothing but joy for them. I wish I could praise God that they will never experience the loss and trauma we have. I wish I was spiritually stronger, but in reality most days I fall at the feet of my Savior and ask Him once again for the strength it will take to make it through another day. The loneliness and heartache can be unbearable at times, but yet I am still here, still functioning, still wondering. 

It has been over 6 ½ years. Shouldn’t this all be behind us? Perhaps if the trauma did not keep poking its head into our lives and attempting to derail us every opportunity it has. Perhaps then. However, PTSD is not as simple as that. It can lead to deviant, self-harming behavior. And it does not ever disappear completely. It may dissipate, but it is always present, waiting for those moments of fatigue and frailty. It is opportunistic and relentless. Therefore, we endure and occasionally we overcome.

I wish I had my happily ever after. Yes, our photo Christmas card is full of smiling faces, too. But if you look closely, you will see the pain that still lingers in our eyes. We are still broken, waiting for complete restoration that we will never experience this side of heaven. My happily ever after will need to wait, and I will need to keep in mind that this is not all there is. Only then will I be able to truly be joyful for those who are experiencing a little bit of heaven here on earth as they live out their happily ever after.

Still Growing Through Tragedy and Pain

For nearly two years I have pondered several times how I would write this chapter of our story. How do you reveal such darkness and deviance? How do you share a story that isn’t your own but one that has impacted you so deeply it has become part of your own? Now, after many hours spent on my knees asking for God’s grace and wisdom, I will share a snippet of what the last two years have been like, but first we must revisit the dreadful day we lost Woody.

Trauma like we experienced on the mountain is inexplicable. No one can understand. It is estimated that only 5% of the population has watched a loved one die a traumatic death. Add in the fact that while we held Woody on the mountainside our own lives were at risk, and you have narrowed the percentages even more. Post-traumatic stress disorder rewires the brain and arrests neurological and emotional development. All three of my children were at neurologically critical stages of development. Even with therapy, one of my children tried to take “their” life three times within the first two years. One of my children refused therapy at all and little did we know, he was the one who needed it the most. 

He began living a double life—his whole life became a lie. He began playing different roles for different people, and we all believed he was healing and growing. We did not notice that he was no longer being true to who he was or to anyone in his life. He married the young woman whom he had only been dating for a short time before Woody died. In fact, Woody never met her. We all thought things were going well—at least I did. I look back now and realize there were so many red flags. However, when you are healing from PTSD and trying to keep one child alive while helping another one navigate pre-adolescence, you allow situations that are not emergencies to continue on course. It was all I could do to breathe most days. My decision making was hindered by grief and trauma. I needed one thing to function normally, and my oldest child’s life appeared to be. Therefore, I averted my attention to the emotional upheaval that faced me at home with my youngest two.

Things came to light two days before Thanksgiving 2019 when the unimaginable happened. Through it all, we learned my oldest had been unfaithful to his wife and had engaged in unimaginable, uncharacteristic behavior. When it all came out in the open, he was completely broken. Destitute, he thought he was too far gone from God and grace. Our campus pastor visited him when he had finally hit rock bottom and reminded him that God is the God of restoration. That was the turning point for my son. Although he lost his wife, his job, and his reputation he finally gained true salvation. He has told me since that day he really does not believe he had been saved before that moment. Over the past nearly two years I have seen God work a miraculous transformation in this young man’s life and I praise Him every day.

My son was diagnosed with severe PTSD and avoidant behavior. He has been in intense therapy for nearly a year, and I am overwhelmed with gratitude for his therapist. I am also overwhelmed with the grace so many have shown him as he tells them his story. Every time he expects people to recoil in disgust, he is met with God’s mercy and understanding. And now he is in graduate school attending his dream seminary working towards his MDiv.

Although I wish we could change how this impacted the young lady he married, we know that God uses all things for his glory as he conforms us to the image of Christ. We know God has a very specific ministry for my son, and we wait with anticipation to see how he will be utilized. I am finally waking up from another nightmare and am cautiously optimistic. It has been a LONG six and a half years. However, I know God is not finished with me as I consider committing my entire life to living in God’s service. I am thankful for what this experience has taught me about people and about true believers in Christ. God is good even in the darkness, and every day we move toward his light and love.

Rescued

             We have felt broken and forgotten. There have been moments when breathing was all we could manage. The pain of loss and trauma threatened to entomb our family in a crypt of cold, unfeeling marble, never to be seen again. We have traveled a road few will ever stumble upon. One therapist told me after reading our case file that in 30 years of practice he has never seen something so traumatic happen to a family. “You can’t make this stuff up,” he told me with a mixture of shock and sympathy. Yes, we have felt broken and forgotten, but mostly we have felt alone—alone to journey through horrific trauma and devastating loss. Yet, we still stand.

            Recently, we have had to wade through the ugly consequences of post-traumatic stress disorder once again as we came to terms with a terrible addiction that manifested itself due to the PTSD. This addiction nearly destroyed one of my children. He lost everything that mattered to him, and almost lost his faith. However, God is faithful and provided a godly mentor to pull him back from the edge of annihilation. Our campus pastor, Mark, faithfully reminded my child that God is a god of restoration and redemption. He crawled into the muddy trenches with my child, where it was ugly and messy, and took his hand and pointed him to the beauty of grace and salvation. Mark reminded him that God rescues.  Now, over a year after that fateful day, my child is finally healing. He is finally becoming the man God has always purposed him to be. The ashes are slowly being transformed into something beautiful. Now he realizes everything he lost was nothing compared to what he has gained.

            We are still not “through” this. I’m not sure there will ever be an end. No one can witness what we did without being permanently scarred. However, God is faithful. He will always rescue us in the midst of our brokenness, and He has never forgotten. Although we may feel alone as we travel down this road of life, God has proven time and time again He will never leave us or forsake us. Therefore, we keep on breathing and even after horrific trauma and devastating loss we are able to stand.

The Theology of Suffering & The Resurrection

             As Gary R. Habermas relayed the story of his wife’s death due to stomach cancer in his book, The Risen Jesus & Future Hope, tears stung my eyes and a knot formed in my stomach. His wife was 43 when she succumbed to cancer, the same age my husband was when he died from blunt force trauma. Habermas was very transparent as he shared his fears and doubts.[1] Through studying Job he discovered that Job’s real problem was his inability to understand the circumstances he was questioning.[2] This seems to be a common theme when considering the theology of suffering.

            The problem of evil has been a philosophical argument against the existence of God since Epicurus first formulated and classically stated the problem. Why would an omnibenevolent God allow suffering and pain in the world? What do believers do with the theology of suffering? The crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus Christ answers these questions and more.

            On Mother’s Day 2015, my children and I watched as their devoted father and my loving husband lost his footing and slid belly first down a granite slope until he disappeared over the ledge. He continued to tumble like a rag doll for over 100 feet until his head crashed into a tree stump and stopped his descent. When we reached him he was still alive, but it was only his brain stem that was still functioning as he moaned and thrashed around like a wounded animal. His skull was cracked and his scalp hung from the back of his head. We held him on a steep slope for over an hour waiting for the EMT’s to arrive, constantly in fear of our own lives, knowing there was 60 more feet to fall. When the EMT’s arrived they hurried everyone out of the area knowing it was too dangerous. They worked on him for hours, but as he was strapped to a board being lifted by a helicopter to the life flight crew, he died. Life would never be normal again.

            As we all struggled through post-traumatic stress disorder and the loss of our leader, the one question I asked God continually was, “Why? Why did he have to die in such a traumatic way? He could have died from a heart attack or a car accident—anything that did not involve my children being traumatized in the process.” God kept taking me to the Garden of Gethsemane, where Jesus anguished over what lay ahead. Then God took me to the flogging and the humiliation Jesus suffered in the hands of His tormenters. God reminded me, just as He reminded Habermas, that He had watched His son die a humiliating, brutal death and Jesus was only 33.[3] “I understand your pain,” God whispered to me in my despair and brokenness. I realized that God was the only one who could understand my pain perfectly.

            Why does God allow suffering? Vince Vitale suggests that it is because He desires to create a specific community of individuals, and suffering allows Him to obtain precisely that community.[4] In Ephesian 1.4-5, Paul tells us that God chose us before the foundation of the world to be holy and blameless and adopted us as His children. If we consider that God’s own Son learned obedience through suffering, how can we truly believe it should be different for us?[5] Philippians 2.8 states that Jesus humbled Himself and was obedient unto death. How can we hope to escape the circumstances of living in a fallen world? Through suffering we are transformed into new beings, and as we seek consolation in God’s mercy and grace, we are comforted.

My hope through all of this has been in the resurrection. Because Jesus bodily rose from the dead, I will see my husband again. I know where he is. Through Jesus’ suffering, death, and resurrection there is hope for all mankind. Although there are several reasons mankind suffers in the world, Jesus’ death and resurrection is the answer to them all. Something I wrote to be read at my husband’s celebration of life sums up how the crucifixion and resurrection are tied to the theology of suffering:

“Tragedy did strike our happy home. The bliss I have known, the love and the beauty of a fulfilled marriage, have been ripped from my hands by an incident too terrible for words. However even though I am completely broken, I am still blessed. God gave me the most exquisite gift, one forged through the flames and polished to a golden glow. I will never stop praising the name of the One who allowed me to know what it was to be Woody’s wife. Broken and blessed by the One who blessed me ultimately through His brokenness.”

            We will suffer in this lifetime. However, because of the resurrection our mourning will be turned to joy. I no longer view the trials we continue to face because of that fateful day in the same way I did before trauma marked our lives. I know I will never suffer to the point Jesus did, and I know I am never alone in my pain. Slowly, I am being transformed, as the dross is removed. God will continue to polish me until He is able to see His reflection in my life, and like it or not that requires suffering.

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[1] See chapter eight in Gary R. Habermas, The Risen Jesus & Future Hope (Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield, 2003).

[2] Ibid. 190.

[3] Ibid. 194.

[4] Ravi Zacharias and Vince Vitale, Why Suffering? Finding Meaning and Comfort When Life Doesn’t Make Sense (New York: Faith Words, 2014), 71.

[5] See Hebrews 5.8.