Two Years

Two years.

How is it possible? When I consider the valley I have traversed, it is truly a miracle that I am here, standing, and sanely remembering. There has been so much pain. My whole being has ached with the agony of grief. I have shed countless tears—enough to fill a small lake at least. And still they fall, intermittently, unexpected. There is no logical explanation for them.

Occasionally, I am stopped in my tracks as a memory clouds my view of reality. I am taken back to that day two years ago. I am once again on that hard, granite slope frozen in fear as the love of my life slides past me. We have locked eyes just as we did on that day until he disappears over the ledge. I do not know in that moment that I will never look into those caramel brown eyes again. I do not know that our lives will be forever marked by tragedy.

Father God, I am only here at this point in time by Your grace. You have carried me when I have collapsed in a heap full of fear and panicked. You have patiently listened to my ranting when my rage was directed towards You. You have held me all those nights as I tossed and turned reliving every agonizing moment on the mountain top. When I could not breathe as anxiety constricted my airway, You gave me peace. When I was buried beneath a heap of sorrow, you plowed through the tears and gave me comfort.

And now I stand at the two year mark and wonder, “How is it possible?”

One word—God 

The End of the Day

I plow through the day without fail. No tears fall from my eyes; no break in my voice to betray my fears. I am resolute. I am resilient. Who wouldn’t be with the knowledge that God fights the battle?

And then nighttime falls. The kids are safely sleeping in their beds. The crisis has passed, and it is time for me to crawl in between the cold, smooth sheets alone. There is no longer anyone there to curl up next to and share the burdens of the day with. There is no one there to let me be weak and gently wipe away my tears. There is no one there to encourage me and to take the weight from my shoulders. No. He is gone. Now the tears flow freely. Now the guard comes down. Now I am shaken and defenseless. Now the full force of parenting alone smacks me upside the head and knocks the wind out of me. I feel isolated and intimidated. I wonder if I can do this. Have I completely failed?

As I sob into my pillow, I sense God’s comforting love slowly creeping into my heart, comforting my head, offering me His strength. “There, there,” He whispers in the darkness. “I will never leave you nor forsake you. My mercies are new every morning. You will not be consumed by this because I love you.” He reminds me once more that although I am unaccompanied I am not alone. He will be a Father to my children. He will guide them through this.  We were never promised a problem free life. In fact, we were guaranteed quite the opposite. However, we do not face this crisis or any other without aid. We have the power of the universe on our side. Although I am weak, He is always strong; and in that I will find comfort and rest.

No More Lies!

Lies. I have believed so many of them throughout my life. However, the one I am continually deceived by is the one that leads me to believe that I am in control of everything that happens in my life. Satan has me so duped! I have believed this particular lie for so long that I have begun to see it as truth. If only I had been a more obedient child perhaps I would not have been disciplined so severely. If only I had not been alone with a certain male family member I would not have been molested. If only I had had more faith, the children within my womb would have survived.  If only I had prayed more fervently, Woody would not have died.  If only.... And I have believed the great deceivers accusations every time. I have fallen into despair believing that I will never be good enough or strong enough to be an effective warrior in God’s army. I have worn the yoke of oppression and have been crushed under its weight just knowing that I deserved every evil outcome—every strike against my soul—because I am responsible for causing others around me to sin. I am responsible when the laws of nature take away my child or my husband. It’s all on me.

Not anymore! A friend called me this morning to pull back the curtain and reveal the deceiver behind the deception—to connect the dots, so to speak. I had no control over my abuse as a child, no more than I had that fateful Mother’s Day on Mount Yonah. Nothing I could have done would have changed the outcome. Satan, once again, has pulled out every weapon in his arsenal in an attempt to attack and destroy my prayer life. He has tricked me into believing that my relationship with God is damaged and that my communication has been hindered by a lack of faith. That is not the case. I was not the only person on or off that mountain that prayed for Woody’s life. We were completely covered by prayers. Many pleaded for Woody’s life that day. I never thought Woody would die because although I knew his injuries were life threatening and that the laws of nature deemed that he should die, I knew my God was big enough to alter those laws and allow a miracle to occur on our behalf. What I did not know is that He would say no. That was the day God had chosen to take Woody to his eternal home. No one could have changed the outcome. This is not on me!

No more lies! I am finished allowing lies to define who I am. I am a cherished daughter of the King. He is lovingly holding me in His arms, gently rubbing my back as the sobs rack my body, wiping away the tears. He has a plan for me far better than any I can imagine. He has not abandoned my side. He has plucked me up into His arms to carry me through this turbulent time. That is the truth that needs to resonate through my life. The father of fabrication has lost this battle. This lie—the one he has deceived me with my whole life—has been exposed for what it is. From this day forward, God’s truth will define and liberate me. Finally, I have been freed from this lie.

The Balance of Life

From March 25, 2012

Life hangs in such a fragile balance, ready to tip in either direction at any time. God taught me that last April. He gave me a whole new understanding of His compassion and mercy. He taught me that every breath that we will ever breathe is His. He alone holds our lives—and the capacity at which we live that life—in His hands. I own nothing; I know that more clearly today than I have ever known it.

We had been standing on our new neighbor’s front steps introducing ourselves to their family when all of a sudden I heard something unusual and turned to see my then 14 year old son fall backwards down the stone steps that just moments before he had been standing on. He landed with his head on the concrete sidewalk and his body contorted and stiff. His eyes were rolled back in his head and he was completely oblivious to the world around him. As I rushed to his side the thought that was rushing through my mind was, “He must have hit hard enough to cause head trauma!” And then after looking at the position of his body, I had to ask myself, “Did he break his neck?”

“Hunter!” I shouted his name over and over to no response. His arms were bent and stiff, not a normal position for someone that had merely fainted. For the longest five to ten seconds of my life he was unresponsive. When he regained consciousness, he was disoriented and without memory of anything that had happened prior to the fall. The neighbors helped me walk him slowly to our house where we continued to assess his condition. He could not remember even items that we knew should have been stored in long-term memory. Since he had hit his head, we worried about head trauma even though there was no external sign of injury. After about an hour of observing his confused state, we made the decision to take him to the emergency room.

By the time we arrived at the hospital, Hunter’s condition had improved; and by the time the doctor examined him, all of his memory, except for the hour prior to his fall, had returned. They performed every test imaginable on him—complete blood work up, CAT, EEG, blood pressure, UA, etc. Everything came back within normal ranges. They sent us home as puzzled as we were as to what had occurred.

I walked out of that hospital with a sense of complete amazement. As the images of Hunter’s fall played over and over in my mind, the one thing I realized was God’s protection had placed Hunter gently at the base of those stone steps. God’s hand had held Hunter’s head as he landed on the concrete sidewalk and prevented him from serious injury. Things could have been so much different. The impact of the fall could have easily caused him to break his neck or could have caused serious head trauma. Neither had taken place.

As I woke the following morning I realized that I could have been waking up to completely different results. I realized how precious life is and how little control I have over it. I realized, too, that my children were not mine, but a gift from God. As I went through my devotion that morning, three words came to mind—compassion, understanding, and tolerance. Carefully, I went through the Bible searching for verses that speak of God’s compassion. The Old Testament and the New Testament are full of statements exclaiming God’s mercy and compassion for those who love Him. I was overwhelmed as I realized that what I had received the previous night was just that—God’s compassion, understanding, and tolerance. He has tolerated my sin, He has understood my fallen nature, and when I was in pain, fearful for my dear son’s health, He had demonstrated compassion beyond comprehension. I am so undeserving of such amazing love!

We have since learned through follow-up testing (a couple days later, they called to inform us that the radiologist had found something on the CAT, that required further testing) that Hunter has a seizure disorder and a venous malformation in the left parietal lobe of his brain. We made the prayerful decision not to medicate him in spite of his neurologist’s recommendations, and he has been seizure free since that fateful day in April, another sign of God’s endless mercy.

I praise God for what I was given that night—a deeper sense of whom God really is, a deeper sense of what it means to be shown compassion. He felt my pain and knew my fear and responded with loving kindness. And even though the scales seem to be tipped in our favor for now, I know how quickly that can change; but I also know that God is holding every breath of our lives in His very capable, loving hands.