This is for my NOVA girls. It’s not the most eloquently written piece but is roughly what I shared at our gathering on 5/18/14:
Before I begin, I want to let you know that my story is very intimately joined with my husband’s story and we are at a place where we are ready to let the light shine on it because we believe that God can be greatly glorified through it. I love Aaron deeply and I’m so very proud of him for his bravery in allowing me to share his part, as it really is our story. Hear what I’m saying: what I’m about to share is in no way meant to demean, belittle, or gossip about my husband, but so that you can see the great work that God is doing in our lives.
Let me start by saying that I always believed there was a God. I was raised Catholic and thought religion was a “good idea”, but never really explored it beyond that. I remember trying to talk to God, but He seemed so distant and far off.
When I was a senior in high school, I met Aaron through a mutual friend. He invited me to church and I thought, “Why not?” I stepped into Rivertree Vineyard Church and was just in awe- up to this point I had never stepped into a church that wasn’t Catholic; I thought all “Christian” churches operated that way- formal and impersonal. You can imagine what a mind shift this was.
I gradually started regularly attending church and a young adult Bible study and eventually made a decision for Christ. It was a slow change for me and I don’t have a “conversion date” but I can remember clearly the day when I started to call myself a Christian. Aaron and I were married when I was a senior in college and life seemed good.
A week before our one year anniversary, I got a phone call from my SIL, her voice shaking, “There’s been an accident. We got a message that Aaron has been airlifted to Miami Valley Hospital. He’s alert and conscious.” Those were the only details the paramedics had given and when we called the hospital, which was an hour away, because of Hippa Laws, we weren’t told anything else. You can imagine the long drive to the hospital- the fear, panic, the pleading with God, even a moment or two of peace. I really had no idea what I was walking into, but I remember crying out to God and praying, “Please Lord let him be ok, and if he isn’t, give me the strength to love him well.”
It turned out that Aaron was involved in a head-on collision, which resulted in a broken hip that left him with metal screws and plates holding it in place along with a fairly long recovery period. We moved in with his parents so that he could be taken care of while I was working (I was in my first year of teaching) and thus the spiral of a “series of very unfortunate events” had begun.
The next 4 years brought about many more painful events- the death of a brother; two grandparents; an aunt; and the murder of a friend. Of course there were happy moments- joyous, beautiful occasions like the birth of our first son, but even that was mixed with a failed birth plan and a cerebral palsy diagnosis. I honestly have no idea how I made it through all those years other than that God sustained me. I clung to the Lord, but my trust in Him started to grow sour. I had many doubts.
Along with this heartache, there was also a secret in our house that began with legitimate narcotics prescribed for Aaron’s pain. But eventually, the prescription became an addiction and for 8 out of the 10 years of our marriage, Aaron struggled with narcotic and a shorter season of alcohol addiction. He had seasons of sobriety and victory that were marked with great joy, hope, peace, and oneness, but also seasons of addiction marked by lying, anger, isolation, and loneliness. My life was very unpredictable and I would draw near to the Lord for a time, but then push Him aside and give up thinking, “What’s the point in praying? You don’t hear me. And if you do, you clearly are not making things easier.” Instead of asking God to change my own heart, I kept begging Him to change my circumstances. I began to self-protect from my husband, my friends, from God- even from myself- I no longer had desires, needs, or wants, I began to lose my voice, my purpose, my joy. If I didn’t allow my heart to know or be known, then I wouldn’t have to hurt, or be let down.
Flash forward to 2014. I begin to have this desire to really seek God-not just because He was useful, but because He was beautiful (all sparked by reading Ann Voskamp’s “Holy Experience” blog). I started to pray that God would give me a word for 2014- something that He wanted me to say to me, or something I could grow in…my resolution. ”Brave.”
The word “brave,” kept creeping into my mind, and ironically, I was immediately terrified. “Brave.” Hmmm. Not being able to shake it, I committed to it, and to seal the deal, I Instagrammed it the first week of January. “Ok God, show me how your perfect love casts out my fear.”
The IF Conference came and went, and the ladies were talking about purpose, calling, God-given gifts and I began to realize that I really had no idea who I am. I was a wife, a mom (to 3 young boys), a Christian, yes, but who was I? What made my heart race? What brought me joy? I began asking God these questions and just really realizing how much of my heart I had closed off.
This spring, I was fortunate to take part in a Redemption Group at Missio (my church) that again pressed into and brought out my serious self-protection sin problem. I was going to have to be brave, to dig deep, and admit how messy my heart was- how often I doubted God’s goodness and to admit that withdrawing from community and God was actually a sin. Calling it by name brought some freedom, many tears, and many moments of both crying out to God and wrestling with Him. Being honest, being brave, and it was the first time I’d gone there with God. It was the first step from moving out of survival mode into freedom.
So here I am, attempting to share my doubts, my struggles, to be brave enough to admit that I don’t have it altogether, but that there’s hope and the promise of grace and love. God has done an amazing work in my heart allowing me to see all the ways He has redeemed some of my past pain. He’s working in me to help me open up and let myself be known. My husband is walking in victory, pursuing Jesus. We are starting to build oneness in our marriage. Our walk isn’t perfect, but our Jesus is. I still struggle with running and hiding and self-protecting; it’s a daily struggle to choose to be open with my husband rather than to protect my heart. It would be way easier to just “move on.” “Get over it,” or pretend the past didn’t exist, but I truly believe that sharing our stories, especially the hard parts, will help others to find freedom. God is making me brave.
Where am I now? “Courage isn’t always doing the big brave things. Courage seems most tested in doing the right small thing.” – Jennie Allen. Right this minute, I’m asking the Lord to help me to be brave in the day-to-day trenches of motherhood. The right “small things” that can add up to be big things in the hearts of my children. Loving them well. Putting their needs above my own- mothering is not for the faint of heart. I struggle each and every day to find joy in my children. I love them with the depth of my being, but the honest truth is that they exhaust me. Admitting that doesn’t mean that I’m not grateful for their lives, but it does allow me to cling to Jesus to fill in the gaps of all the areas I often fail them.
So, what about you? Will you be brave with me this summer? Will you push past the awkward and let yourself be known? It’s not going to happen overnight, and I’m not going to say it’s easy, “or natural,” but I will say it’s worth it. God sees you and knows you and your story more intimately than anyone. Your story matters.
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