In order for anyone to have a clear picture of our faith journey as it currently stands, I need to say something about what we've been through this year.
I am pretty lucky as far as mother-in-laws go. Actually, more than lucky. I had the best. I cannot recall one time that she ever criticized me and in just about any disagreement between Bill and I she took my side. There was no age-old archetypal war between us. She was a second mother. My favorite person to text my thoughts on the latest Dr. Phil episode. She was the best.
Hilarious, though not on purpose. Fiercely devoted to her family and particularly to her grandchildren. A woman of faith. A force to be reckoned with who kicked ass, took names all the while remaining full of class and self-respect. She was loving, never afraid to tell you if you were wrong and would be the first person to like your facebook updates. Without fail. She was a huge, pervasive and beloved part of our lives. And since 2009 she'd been battling interstitial pulmonary fibrosis. You've probably never heard of this non-smoking related lung disease though it kills as many people every year as breast cancer.
Around the end of March she went into the hospital. She died on April 8, 2015.
I could spend time talking about all the details of her fight and the days leading up to her death. But that isn't truly my story to tell. I can say that this event as been the single most difficult experience I've ever walked through. And not because of my own grief for a person who I loved. That is hard beyond words but it's not the worst part. The worst part has been watching my husband suffer through the loss of his mother and navigating the winding, poorly marked path towards healing and establishing a new normal.
Our shared faith has always been part of our relationship. Before we dated, Bill and I were initially friends. We met as freshman in college where we were both involved in a program for Christian leadership as well as various Catholic campus ministries. Our romance developed over time and our common faith was always a major driving force of our relationship and how we mapped our future. Over the years we have waxed and waned in our spiritual life (more about that some other time) but this uniting thread has never unraveled. We share a common belief about the universe and our place in it. Our spiritual word-view shapes our marriage and how we are raising our child and any others we may be blessed to have. We believe.
But the loss of his mother has shaken my husband. I won't say too much about it because, again, it's not my story. I will say that he is still a believer. But he's been lost. He's starting to come around but watching him be lost this year has been confusing, painful and scary.
The thing is, while he's a software developer now, Bill's undergraduate degree is in Theology. In our relationship he's always been the one with the answers to my faith related questions. For any random questions regarding our faith that's ever popped into my head, and believe me there have been a lot, he had the answers because he's probably studied it or read about it at one point. He's one of those annoying people who remembers just about everything he ever learns. It's hard to be too jealous though when it so often benefits me. As for me, I have more of an intuitive spirituality which often pulls me towards mysticism. He's always been my anchor. To see him struggle has been unbearable.
For months I'd fallen into the trap of sometimes sincerely believing that nothing good or happy will ever happen for us again. I know that's irrational. But it's been a very difficult year for us even without the catastrophic loss. This feeling of doom and darkness was starting to get pretty overwhelming until God finally started to get through to me.
Lately I've felt God calling me back. Softly, subtly. It's almost like he wants me to know that this is on me now. It's on my shoulders, fair or not. I am the one who will have to rise up for our family while my strong and proud husband works through his grief. I am going to have to be the one guide push or drag him back to where I know he wants to be. So I'm jumping back in. Because it's the only thing I know to do. Because all throughout my life, each and every time I have feared that darkness would win out, God always ALWAYS pulled me back. He always provided. He never let me fall. And he won't let my family fall now.
So here we go. Prayer. Patience. Commitment to spiritual development. I am dedicated to living through this, learning as much as I can and bringing my family out on the other side. We're struggling with a loss. Life is hard. But I believe God will never let us sink.
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