This will no doubt be the hardest blog post that I will ever write. It’s a part of my life packed tightly away in a spot very deep within my soul. I wouldn’t share it, except I must. God has given me a heart for couples.
In 2009, we were like so many other young couples. We were struggling to make ends meet while raising young boys. We got caught up in this thing called life. There was no infidelity. No abuse. We simply got caught up in life. There we times that we absolutely stunk as husband and wife. But we loved each other and we were committed to keep our family together.
An early Monday morning in June began like so many others. I woke up to the alarm and walked into the living room. Then I started screaming.
My husband was dead. Dead.
He died of what’s called a widow-maker. At 38, I was that widow with 2 little boys. No mother should ever have the image of her 9- year old grabbing his daddy’s lifeless body and trying to pray him back to life. That image still haunts me until this day.
Numb is the only word that I can use to describe the aftermath. In the weeks following, I moved myself and the boys into the barn of a friend that had been converted into an apartment. Although I had been saved for over 15 years, it was in that barn that God and I came face to face and an ugly, beautiful, bittersweet journey began. It’s a journey I’m still on.
If you’re married, with or without kids, and live a chaotic life, I pray that you will walk away from your phone/computer screen and hug your spouse. Tell them how much you love them. None of us are promised another breathe.
Until next time…..