Profoundly Seth: Choosing Joy and Climbing that Mountain

Choosing Joy and Climbing That Mountain

My domain is finally back online! These past couple of weeks have been a whirlwind of confusion between Google, GoDaddy, and me. All's well that ends well, though, and now I can share a post I've been waiting very impatiently to publish.

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A Tattoo in Sara's Handwriting

While my friends Amie and Mandy were visiting for Gitzapalooza in September, Amie and I got tattoos in honor of Sara. I say they're for Sara, but really they're for us, a reminder that we always have a choice no matter what circumstances we face. Sara lived a really tough life, and you'd never have guessed it from her attitude. She was amazing. Mandy designed the tattoos, and they're rendered in Sara's own handwriting, which makes them extra special to me.

Amie placed hers on her wrist, but my wrist is already pretty full with my family tattoo, so I decided to put this one on my foot. As my mom put it, it's a way to put my best foot forward every day. The tattoo artist told me I was getting an upside-down tattoo, and I laughed. "It's to remind me, I need to be able to read it!" I told him. He shook his head and got to work. So now I have an upside-down tattoo on my foot, I see it every day, and I couldn't be happier about it.

I want this motto to define me. I want to look back on my life when I'm old and gray and say that I chose joy in every circumstance. I'd like to think I've done a passable job of it over the past several years. Eli's death, Seth's deafness, four babies in the NICU, my marriage failing. I've done my best to do what I can and give the rest to God. Sometimes I've done a better job of that than others.

Believing God: A Study That Rocked Me

I've just finished a Beth Moore study called "Believing God." It began three months ago. I signed up because I thought I should do a study and my church was starting one. I didn't put any more thought into it than that. The first night rocked me to my core. Of course we believe in God, but do we really believe God when He tells us what He wants for us? It's always been hard for me to let it all go and give up control that way. I think I have a better idea, a better solution, a quicker way to get from point A to point B. It's hard for me to let go of the details and trust that God has it figured out for me.

Take my marriage, for example. John left. I realized that while his actions were his own, I had also done things wrong. And I wanted it fixed. Right then. Period. I fought for it. I begged for it. I felt like I might actually die for it. But it didn't happen, not when I desperately wanted it to. I asked God to move the mountain, but he said no. He left that mountain in front of me, and that left me two choices. Stay there and give up, or start climbing.

Starting to Climb

I started to climb. Sometimes I didn't know the point of the climb, or even where the path was taking me, but I kept slogging ahead. One foot in front of the other. Every so often my knees would buckle under the strain of it all, but I got back up and kept going, heading up that mountain out of sight like the Von Trapps at the end of The Sound of Music. All I knew was that God hadn't told me to stop. I wasn't there yet.

I was divorced, but I never felt released from my marriage. Sometimes I cursed God, John, anyone I could find. "Just let me stop caring!" I would shout. "Just let me move on like he has!" But I was never given the go-ahead to let go. Which is ironic, considering I moved across the country. Why would God facilitate such a move if he wouldn't let me let go of my marriage? Moving away only increased the healing I'd begun in Florida. Healing for me, healing for the kids. Finally, I felt content. I knew we'd made the right choice in moving. I thought God must have something great planned for us here. But the release still didn't come, although I fooled myself into thinking it had for a while.

When Coen was born I stood in the NICU watching him, thinking not of how angry I was at what John had done but instead sad about what he was missing out on. A few weeks later I sat at dinner with my best friend and told her, "I can't explain it. I'm not angry, I'm not bitter, I'm at peace. But it just doesn't feel over." Then I laughed. "But there's no way I'll ever mention that to John!"

The Phone Call

But on the day I began that study, I received a phone call. "You were right. You were right about all of it." It was John, and he sounded worse than I have ever heard him, aside from the day our son died. He had hit rock bottom, and when he did, for whatever reason, my number was the one he dialed. That night at Bible study, every word spoke to me. I passed it all on to John. I started writing verses down on note cards for him, not even sure if or when we would see him. "Why would you speak to me?" he asked. "You shouldn't even be talking to me. Why would you want to help me?"

The first few weeks were horrific. It was literally as though he was going through a detox from drugs. He couldn't eat. He couldn't sleep. The fallout from our divorce and his actions of the past few years was hitting him for the very first time. His eyes were opened in a way they hadn't been in a long time, and the guilt was rocking him to his core.

After a few weeks he came to visit for his birthday. He met Coen for the first time. He saw all of us for the first time in seven months. The first day was uncomfortable, even painful. The second day was slightly awkward. The third day was good. By the time he left I could see glimpses of the man I had married. I gave him the note cards with scripture and a phoenix necklace. (We're Harry Potter buffs.) He stared at it, then looked up at me. "Do you really think I can rise from the ashes of the life I've made? I'm so far off track."

Watching Him Come Back to Himself

Each week that study spoke to me like it had been written for me alone. I was able to open up to my Bible study group in a way I hadn't done with many people in real life outside of this blog. When I asked for prayer for him, everyone would say, "Do you want prayer for reconciliation?" I'd always laugh and say, "No. As great as that would be, that's not what's important. I want prayer for him. I want him to be the man I know he can be."

And each week, John came back to himself a little more. He made plans to visit for Thanksgiving. He went to see Courageous and it rocked him. And one day he told me that he wanted to "press play" again. That no matter how hard he'd tried to hide from it, he would never be happy if we weren't in his life in a real way. That he'd done his best to pretend he wasn't a husband and father, but that he didn't want to pretend anymore.

And this is the point at which people will think I'm crazy. I know it, I own it, and I understand it. It does seem crazy. But two people I loved died this fall. They were less than ten years older than me. If by some chance I only have ten years left to make it to the promised land God has for me here on earth, to make the most of my life, you'd better believe I'm not going to waste time worrying about what people think of me. He tells me to go for it? That's enough for me.

Reaching the Peak

The past two years, all that time I'd been waiting for God to tell me when and where to go? Finally, He did. When John asked me if I was willing to recommit myself to him, I heard it loud and clear. "Go. There. Go there faster!" Because where else would I go? Suddenly I had reached the peak of that mountain that just wouldn't move, and looking down at the ground I'd covered, it was obvious.

John made some huge mistakes. They're big and bad and out in the open. He can't hide from them. But me? My mistakes and shortcomings were not obvious. I could get away with them much more easily. These past two years have refined me in ways I don't think anything else ever could. For the first time, I think I can be the partner I always wanted to be. Honestly? I think that with hard work and commitment, we can build something new.