Hopeful Hero
I've spent much time lately reflecting on the events of my life from 6-7 years ago. It is infant & pregnancy loss awareness month (among other things). A few days ago my memories on facebook popped up a post from 5 years ago as we were finally through the storm, content with the family we had, unknowingly on the eve of magnificent blessing in our amazing Maggie. I say we, because I didn't walk through that valley, that fire, that mess, or whatever you want to call it, alone. My husband was right there by my side going through it too.
When I think about those days, my heart breaks for my husband and what he went though, especially what I put him though. Whatever support I may have thought I lacked at the time, he had even less. I at least had him. My grief was deep and frightening to me, to him, to all those around us. Others could console me at a comfortable distance. He was stuck with me, as close as one could possibly get to the mess. And he had his own grief to process on top of it too. He did have one friend who was a rock for him through it all. I fear we never fully appreciated the support his friend gave him. Sadly we have since become somewhat estranged, not so much intentionally, but grown apart and then pulled apart by the busyness and responsibilities of modern life.
Still, my husband sat alone at the hospital through two of my emergency surgeries. He encountered me alone in the basement in the dark barely able to speak about the symphony of evil going on in my head. Months later he had to wrestle a handful of pills out of my hand to keep me alive, and then he had to take me to the ER and check me into the psych ward not knowing when he'd be allowed to bring me back home. For months, because of the thoughts I was having, he worried endlessly about me driving to work. He feared I'd either drive off the road intentionally or start sobbing so deeply I'd drive off accidentally. Eventually he decided to drive me himself so he know I'd be safe. He had to be careful of every word he said, not knowing what words might trigger a tailspin. He learned the hard way that "needy" was top of the list. He left his first teaching job to better care for me in my grief. I, being the ever encouraging and supportive wife that I am, horribly accused him of simply using me as an excuse to do something he wanted to do anyway. Weeks later I was grateful for his choice as he was home to take me to all my monitoring appointment for our second loss, one after the next mostly filled with discouraging news. I would crumble into pieces. Reliably, loaning me his strength, he would lift me up and carry me out to face the next step. During my restless nights when my mind was flooded by torrents of horrifying thoughts, he would read Psalms over me until I fell asleep.
He did all this while I would still shrink from my responsibilities at home, at times refuse to talk to him, and on other occasions would even rant to him about how he wasn't doing enough for me. He never returned my selfishness in kind, never really said a cross word to me, and never stormed out of the room to avoid me, even when I would spit out at him, "you don't really love me!" My husband was wise enough to know my mind was poisoned with grief and despair, likely under demonic attack. He didn't flinch or waiver in his commitment to me. He simply kept the show going on at home, maintaining as much normalcy for our children. He was my hopeful hero.
Fathers of lost pregnancies and husbands of despairing women need our love, our support, and our prayer. They can be the forgotten warriors of the traditionally considered female battles of this world. A husband's reaction to his wife's "emotional problems" can make all the difference in the world to her and to her recovery. Sadly many marriages have fallen apart during these types of trials. I can tell you confidently that I don't deserve my husband or his love. I vomited abusive words at him. I physically pushed him away on more than one occasion. I used his love for me as a weapon against him as threats to hurt myself so I could in turn hurt him. He didn't use my behavior as an excuse to withhold his love or to break his vows. He kept loving me through it all, in sickness and in worse as he promised he would. I would never have made it through that very dark time without his constancy and love. Though I often could not feel or appreciate his love for me at the time, I see now that is was oxygen for me. It was there, invisible to me, but without it I would have suffocated under the weight of my despair. I am alive today because of my hopeful hero.
My husband is a pillar of quiet strength, a calm presence in the storm, my ballast, my comfort. His arms were and still are a healing balm. They are my safe place, my happy place, my favorite place. He is the ultimate example to me of Christ's love for His church, and in my estimation an exemplary Christian husband.
In talking to others who suffer from depression, I have heard a common comment, "I often can't feel God's love for me." In preparing to write this book, I have been trying to figure out how we can help each other feel God's love for one another, so I asked my husband and several others how they feel God's love for them. The answers are often of a cognitive nature, using their minds to reason about events and moments and seeing God's love through His care, faithfulness, and provision in those moments. That's wonderful, and when I'm not in the depths of depression I can do the same, but in depression my mind betrays me and refuses to allow those connections to be made. So the question on the table is how to help one another feel God's love without relying on a mind that isn't processing anything correctly? I'm still trying to work that out, but I have a working hypothesis: we can help each other experience God's love by loving one another as He has commanded us to.
My husband is a physical manifestation of God's love for me. He is here, visible, touchable, and very real. God gave me this man who points to His son, Jesus, who is the ultimate manifestation of God's love for all of us. Jesus is the ultimate Hopeful Hero. Let us be the hands and feet of Jesus to each other, living out God's love. And while we are doing so, let us be sure to encourage and support those men who are holding on for dear life trying to walk with their wives through the most difficult of times.