Recap and Reflect
Originally posted May 9, 2018
In 2009, I treated myself to a European vacation under the guise of a summer study-abroad in Italy. And by treated myself, I mean added way too much money to my student loan debt to afford myself a “college experience” since I felt so sorry for myself for having to work full-time all through college. Blah, blah, self-pity, more blah, but that’s another story for a different day.
Anyhow, as if 5,500 miles wasn’t enough of a getaway, a handful of us students decided to take a weekend trip from where we were studying in the Tuscany area to Cinque Terre – a beautiful cluster of five quaint little towns tucked into the rocky cliffside on the northwestern coast of Italy. We decided to venture to a beach on one of the days of this weekend excursion, which proved to be an education in and of itself.
*Side Note: Did you know that on the beaches of Vernazzo, you’ll pay money to pee in a hole in the ground while other people watch and wait in line for their turn to do the same? True story. Public restrooms aren’t free and feel very… um, public. I just saved you from spending $10,000 to find this out for yourself. You’re welcome.
So after the beachside bathroom debacle, a few of us decided to go for a swim. The surf was particularly rough that day from the storm that we could see brewing in the distance, but we hadn’t ridden a train on the edge of a cliff, stayed in a hostel, and hiked 5 miles to come this far and not swim in Italian water, by gosh! So in we went!
We waded out into choppy water and immediately discovered the ocean bottom felt like shards of glass, and there were what seemed to be giant boulders strategically hidden under the water, which reminded me of whacking your shin on the edge of a coffee table repeatedly, wave after wave. One girl cut her knee open on one of these rocks and decided to turn back, but another girl and I decided to swim out a little further to try to make the most of this “experience.”
We finally got out far enough that we weren’t being assaulted by the ocean floor, and we relaxed a little… sort of. At this point, we were probably 20 yards from the beach, and I was no longer cutting my legs on rocks, but the waves had grown quite large at this distance. It was like the wave pool at your favorite swim park on steroids, but we didn’t have a giant donut shaped innertube to ride this out. So after about 20 minutes of pretending that trying not to drown was fun and enjoyable, we decided it was time to head back to shore.
Here is where this adventure went terribly awry.
We let the waves push us toward the shore until we reached the point where we felt the rocks of agony reappear. We were about 30 feet from the beach, the water was still waist deep, and we were stuck in the middle of a minefield of rocks. The waves had become so intense that we could see the water being sucked backward from the beach before each wave came crashing back down. We were being picked up and thrown forward and sucked backward and thrown forward again with such force that it was becoming quite obvious we needed to do something quickly. Staying in this spot wasn’t an option.
I looked over at my friend, and we decided to go for the shore. We waited for the next wave to pass, and then we made a break for it – kicking, clawing, feet in glass, knees in rocks, just moving through waist-high water as fast as we could, hoping to avoid the pounding of the next wave. I had covered almost half the distance to safety, when all of a sudden, I felt weightless…
A surge of water lifted me up from the back, and the next thing I knew, I was upside down under water; my head was being crammed into the sand, my feet were in the air, and I’m being turned end over end like I’m attempting giant underwater cartwheels. I felt my head against the sand twice before I was violently vomited out of the water and onto the shore like a discarded baby doll. If Jonah was really spit out of the mouth of a giant fish onto the beaches of Nineveh, I imagine it had to have looked (and felt) something like that.
I had sand up my nose, my bathing suit top was twisted sideways, I might have had broken bones – who knew at that point – all I knew was I was alive, and I was out of the water. I looked over at my friend, who somehow ended up way farther down the beach than we had started out, and she appeared to be in the same condition as me – battered, but breathing. We exchanged a sigh of relief and a laugh at our disheveled appearances and headed back to find our other (and apparently wiser) friend who skipped this fiasco.
*****
This story has kept coming to my mind over the last few weeks. The last 12 months have felt a lot like the violent waves of Vernazzo. Up until 6 weeks ago, I would have said 2017 was the most challenging and stressful year of my adult life. It seemed like the waves of life were assaulting us from every direction – financially, emotionally, physically.
The winter of 2016 was hard on us financially, and then to add insult to injury, Chad’s business had been uncharacteristically slow the following spring. By June of 2017, we’d yet to make one house payment on time. We were barely making it, but in true form, God always pulled us through at the last minute.
I was getting my resume ready and considering going back to work to contribute financially when I found out I was pregnant with our 3rd child that August. There was a sudden joy, but also a fear – what are we going to do now? We can’t afford THREE kids in daycare in order for me to work, and we’re still just barely making it.
By September, we’d made the decision to let all our non-essential debts go bad in an attempt to keep the mortgage, van and other true necessities afloat. Our phones were soon ringing non-stop from people trying to collect payments. The stress just kept piling on.
At the beginning of October, I miscarried. We were devastated but kept trusting God. Maybe this was for the best. At least I could potentially afford to work now.
At the beginning of November, I found out I was, in fact, still pregnant. The baby I’d lost the month before was actually a twin, and we didn’t know it until finding out I was still pregnant. It was a miracle! We were overjoyed!
Chad spent the better part of the rest of November working out of town trying to make enough money to get us caught up on our house payment before the end of the year.
We’d been so close to losing everything more than once that year. Everything we’d worked so hard to build seemed like it was slipping through our fingers like sand, and no matter how hard we tried to hold onto it, it just kept disappearing.
I was really seeking the Lord a lot during the fall; trying to figure out “the reason” for all of this. “Lord, have we not been faithful? Have we done something to deserve this? Are you going to let us lose everything?” – questions that plagued my mind.
I finally got to a place of peace, and I had just decided that it didn’t matter if we lost everything. God was still good. We’d be just fine. We’d make it work. I even remember telling his parents this very thing at Thanksgiving. “We can lose the house, the van, everything. Those are things. What does it really matter in the scheme of eternity? All those things are replaceable. As long as we have each other, we’ll be fine.”
Being able to say that and actually mean it was a giant spiritual victory for me. I’d built a world of false security based on things that money could buy, and we found ourselves in a place with no money. But for the first time in my adult life, I felt like I was actually putting my physical trust in God’s hands. “Everything we’ve tried has failed, Lord. We can’t do this anymore. Have your way with it.”
December was an equally slow month for the business. We had a deadline to get our loan caught up or else we knew we’d end up at a point of no return and go into pre-foreclosure. Christmas was meek, which was hard for me, because anyone who knows me knows how much I LOVE Christmas and gift-giving and decorating and celebrating. We didn’t buy our kids or each other anything in an attempt to scrape every dollar we could. We still didn’t have enough by the deadline, so as embarrassing as it was, we borrowed some money from family – something I had never done in my adult life.
We closed out 2017 feeling like we’d been in a 15 round boxing match that ended in a split decision with no clear winner. We felt bloodied, bruised, and broken but somehow hopeful for the new year. God hadn’t brought us this far to abandon us here. He’d given us a miracle baby. He was going to take care of us.
Tuesday, January 2, 2018: Chad was supposed to be starting a new interior job in Edmond. That morning… foreshadowing maybe? It was 14 degrees outside. He broke the key off in the lock at his storage unit because it was so cold. His truck tires were low (also from the cold) so he stopped to air up his tires, and his truck battery died at 7/11. He couldn’t get ahold of anyone because it was early, and I was still sleeping. The goof decided to walk home 3 miles in the cold, and spent the rest of the day getting a new battery and retrieving his truck from 7/11. We’ll try this “new year, new you” gig again tomorrow…
Wednesday, January 3, 2018: I was currently 7 months pregnant. It was 2:00 pm. I was walking into a regular OB appt when I got a text message from Chad saying he’d fallen off his ladder from 15 feet, landed on his back on top of the ladder, and was going to the hospital via ambulance. I immediately called him. He sounded like he was in shock, but somewhat okay. Probably adrenaline. He wasn’tt paralyzed because he could move. That was good, but he was still in a lot of pain. The homeowners were insistent on calling an ambulance.
I felt shocked. And confused. I wasn’t sure what to do, so I just proceeded with my appt. I told the nurse my husband just fell off a ladder. She said, “Well I’m sure your blood pressure is going to be through the roof!”
It was an icy 98/65. She took it twice. Maybe I was the one in shock.
I thought to myself, “What in the world is happening right now?” as I drove across town to the hospital, rebuking satan the entire way. This was NOT how this year is supposed to go. NOPE. NOPE. NOPE. Now I was angry.
I got to the hospital and found my sweet husband writhing in pain, with blood coming out of his mouth from where he’d almost bit his tongue in half from the jar of the fall. The CT results just came back and confirmed a compression fracture of his T11 vertebrae. Third day of the new year, we had all of $200 in our checking account, I was 7 months pregnant, and he had a broken back. I was simultaneously aghast at the situation, but thankful he is alive and not hurt any worse. They said he’d be fine. Not require surgery, just needed 10-12 weeks to recover.
The image of my strong and fearless husband lying there helpless with tears in his eyes is burned into my mind. He looked up at me through brokenness and said, “I’m so sorry. I feel like I’ve failed you.” And as concerned as I was about our situation, I did what any wife would do – I brushed the tears off his face and told him we’d get through this together. It didn’t matter what happened as long as we had each other – something I absolutely meant; something I’d just told his parents a month before at Thanksgiving dinner; words I’d get the opportunity to prove.
The weeks that followed were nothing short of miraculous. The Lord provided for us personally like I’ve never experienced before. We couldn’t do a thing to help ourselves. Chad was literally on his back, but the Lord showed himself so faithful to us. We had people lining up to help us physically, emotionally, and financially. I had never felt so secure in the midst of what looked like so much uncertainty in my entire life. We felt the Lord carrying us in the palm of his hand. We KNEW we’d be just fine. We had so much hope. 2018 could only get better from there…
February 3, 2018: It’d been 4 weeks since the fall. Chad was doing remarkably better, although it was still evident he’d need a lot more time before he could go back to work. We went to the Cheesecake Factory (my fav special occasion restaurant) to celebrate our 5th wedding anniversary. Then we went to the mall and played virtual reality video games and home to relish in a kid-free evening together. We ended up staying up until 4 or 5 am just talking about life and love and marriage and kids; our dreams and goals for this year and lessons learned over the last 5 years. We were like 2 high school kids who couldn’t get enough of each other. It was by far one of the most precious nights we’d ever spent together.
I remember telling him how I felt like we’d overcome so much, and we’d just now come into this really beautiful place in our marriage where I was so genuinely happy to be married to him and so loved our life and our family and was so excited about our miracle baby and what was ahead for us. I vividly remember telling him through teary eyes, “If anything ever happens to you, I’m not sure I want to do this again with anyone else. It took so much work to get here, to this place of peace and happiness and cohesiveness. I don’t know if I want to go through that again, because it was so much work.”
Words I might also get the chance to prove.
Over the next month, Chad’s back was healing, but something else was going on that we couldn’t figure out. He was nauseous all the time and experiencing upper abdominal pain on his right side. We just assumed it was his gallbladder, so we found him a new physician to check it out. He had tests ran and bloodwork done, but the Dr wasn’t convinced his gallbladder was the issue. His symptoms continued.
By mid-March, it had been 10 weeks since his fall, and Chad felt like he was ready to start back to work, even though he was still getting nauseous all the time. He begins work on an inside job and was really excited to be productive again. His phone had been ringing with bid requests, which was encouraging that this year was indeed going to be a better year for his business.
I was 2 weeks from my scheduled c-section date at this point. I was starting to feel the pressure of having a 3rd child in the family. Our house didn’t feel ready. We were in the middle of a small renovation project. It felt like we still had so much to do in 2 short weeks.
Chad seemed increasingly tired, but I just assumed it was because he’d started working again and wasn’t used to the rigor of that anymore after having laid around the house for 10 weeks. Although, I found it odd for him (and slightly annoying) that he seemed to be falling asleep all the time.
March 25, 2018: I woke up late for church. I got up and started getting ready, hoping Chad would get up too. He knew that me having to motivate him to get up and get ready for church was one of my biggest pet peeves. I was 38 weeks pregnant and feeling a little cranky, so I didn’t pester him about it. He finally came in the bedroom after I was already mostly ready and about to leave, and asked if I was taking the kids with me. To which I replied, “NOPE!” and left.
I picked up Amara and took her to church. I was so late for service that I didn’t even go in the building. I was feeling really annoyed at this point. Annoyed at myself and us for not getting up this morning. I sat in the parking lot for 30 minutes while Amara was in kids’ church. Took her home, texted Chad and told him I was going to Target.
I wandered the aisles aimlessly for a bit, got some fast food and headed home. I walked in the door and found him asleep (again) on the couch while the kids were running amuck in the living room. Annoyed again. “You’ve been asleep all day!” I thought to myself.
I asked him to get up. He finally did.
At that point, I thought I was going to go into a fit of hormonal rage for some unknown reason. I knew I was being irrationally irritable and felt awful about it. So I got in bed and just started crying.
Chad, being the kind and forgiving man he was, just walked up to me and said, “It’s okay, Baby. You won’t be pregnant much longer. You’re almost done.” And then he put his hand on my shoulder and started praying over me just like he always did when he knew I needed it. He prayed for peace and comfort and strength, and then told me he loved me and to take a nap. He was going to work on the list of To-Do items I’d written on our board in the kitchen.
I took a 3 hour nap and woke up feeling quite refreshed. I found him in the garage working on these coffee tables that he was refinishing for me. He had a new pep in his step. I could tell he was in his “get it done” mode where he accomplishes so much in such a short period of time. Always amazed me what he could get done.
I watched our evening church service online, which turned out to be a testimony service. A handful of us were watching via the live stream and decided to write our own testimonies in the chatbox. I wrote about how Chad had fallen 15 feet almost 12 weeks ago and miraculously had no long-term damage or extreme injuries. I gave God all the glory that he wasn’t killed or paralyzed, and that tomorrow, March 26, he was going back to the house where he’d fallen off the ladder to finish that job. I gave God all the glory for his miraculous provisions for us over the last 3 months, and how we both had grown so much in our faith since his accident. Chad going back to the job he fell on seemed like a huge win.
We put the kids to bed and then he really put it into high gear. He spent the entire evening marking things off my honey-do list… vacuuming the van, bringing the crib downstairs, taking the other crib apart and upstairs, getting the carseat out of the attic, washing it, laundry, so many things.
We’d both had a nap that day, so we weren’t tired and ended up staying up really late. It was around 2:30 am before we laid down. We laid there and talked a little more like we always do. He held my hand like he always did. I felt so overcome with love and appreciation for all he’d done that evening, because it was such a stress relief for me. I told him I loved him probably 12 times as I was falling asleep. I saw him quietly get up and walk toward the bedroom door. I whispered I love you one more time as he was walking by, and then I fell asleep.
March 26, 2018: I woke up and found the man I loved more than life, my best friend and my soul mate, dead in our kitchen floor.
*****
Tumbling. Head in the sand. Feet in the air. End over end. Upside down. Underwater. Catapulted onto the shore in complete disarray.
After months and months and months of swimming in choppy water and being beaten down and smashed against the rocks by the waves of life, we made a break for the shore, only to be picked up and slammed back down again by a force completely beyond our control.
I was 8 days from delivering our 3rd baby, and I’d just found my beloved husband dead. Just like the Italian waters of Vernazzo vomited me onto the beach with such ferocity that day in 2009, I felt like life had literally chewed me up and spit me out the morning of March 26th, except this time there was no person to dust me off and laugh about what we’d just survived. There was just me; standing there feeling completely wounded and exposed, wondering what I was supposed to do now. Where do I go from here?
I’ve spent the last 6 weeks trying to figure that out.
*****
Be Still, My Soul
By: Catharina von Schlegel, Published in 1752
“Be still, my soul; the Lord is on your side;
Bear patiently the cross of grief or pain;
Leave to your God to order and provide;
In every change the faithful will remain.
Be still, my soul; your best, your heavenly Friend
Through thorny ways leads to a joyful end.
Be still, my soul; your God will undertake
To guide the future as he has the past.
Your hope, your confidence let nothing shake;
All now mysterious shall be bright at last.
Be still, my soul; the waves and wind still know
His voice who ruled them while he dwelt below.
Be still, my soul; though dearest friends depart
And all is darkened in the vale of tears;
Then you will better know his love, his heart,
Who comes to soothe your sorrows and your fears.
Be still, my soul; your Jesus can repay
From his own fullness all he takes away.Be still, my soul; the hour is hastening on
When we shall be forever with the Lord,
When disappointment, grief, and fear are gone,
Sorrow forgot, love’s purest joys restored.
Be still, my soul; when change and tears are past,
All safe and blessed we shall meet at last.”