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Iíve been absent here lately. Perhaps noticeably. Perhaps not.

I do this when things get messier. I allow and make room for circumstance imposing isolation. Words become too hard to string together in thought, much less speaking or writing them out loud.

Iím afraid of the words because then I might have to feel the feelings. I might give power to the words, logic to the fear.

But faith finds no partner in fear.

The roller coaster of life has continued with its dips and curves and gravitational yanking; the kind when all you can do is white knuckle grip tightly, keep your eyes squeezed shut and wait for the roughness to subside.

I wanted to hit the eject button; wave the white flag.

And, I felt justified to do so.

But, God.

My wordless weeping prayers were heaved upon the only One who I knew would understand my guttural retching, the only One who could see the heart pain and gaps of sorrow.

And, He heard my prayers yet didnít explain his inexplicable ways. He just sent confirmation and resolution through enough of Balaamís speaking donkeys (Numbers 22:28) that my white flag was only waved in obedience to Him.

While the 10th anniversary of 80FT was surprisingly easier than I expected, much harder was our son turning 10. All of the sudden, Corbin was double digits and it wrecked me. Thoughts of how little time we actually still have with him at home was compounded with the grief that there is no second born child; we have only him to raise and love. He is enough, more than enough, but the sibling we couldnít give him is still grieved for because they are tied to lost dreams.

And, then moments and days of Dannyís behavior choices began to confuse me and I found myself having to set hard boundaries with him, even in front of Corbin. This added heaps of guilt that even further weighed me down into the swirl of life sucking waves.

The power wheelchair. The converted vehicle. The insurance company. Still not resolved.

Surgery. Recovery. A trip to Canada to help move my Grandma. Loss and healing in many ways.

Work. Baseball. A death in our family. A birthday to celebrate. Our anniversary to enjoy. Seasons marked.

And, in the midst of all of the details, Danny stopped taking two of his medications; one for memory and the other an antidepressant. He didnít tell anyone. He didnít ask what they were for. He just stopped cold turkey.

When I stumbled on this truth weeks later, I was both relieved and furious. Relieved that Dannyís poor behavior choices could be directly tied to his withdrawal from the antidepressant and furious with him that heíd put the rest of us through hell because he ďdidnít want to be a pill popper just to be normal and then not even be normal.Ē

But, God.

During this very dark and tumultuous time and through the weeping and gnashing of teeth, God revealed His presence. He didnít instantaneously fix anything, or miraculously heal Danny, but He did confirm for me that He walks with me. God used the donkeys in my life.

And, in that time of pacing in the valley, with the words I could not yet write, I realized that the words in my soul didnít belong here; they belong in the book. These ideas and themes I thought were blog posts, theyíre really chapters in the book.

But, the words still scare me. Actually, itís not the words; itís reliving the moments, the feelings. Iím scared to go to those places again and can only hope the words that grow from those dark places will give glory where it is due; only God.

This morning, as we got ready for our day, I asked Danny what he wanted to request prayer for today:

Strength for my wife.

Protection for my son.

Encouragement for me to keeping going.

This is the selfless man I married; the one that I stay for.

Iíd like to add one request for myself; will you please pray for me as I attempt to go to the dark and hurt places again? Will you please pray the memories and the feelings come back to me? Will you pray for the strength to experience it again? Will you pray for the right words to come from those places?

I did not live this life alone. I cannot write the book alone.

But, God.


Did you get your In On 10 t-shirt yet? They make great Christmas gifts!