I believe that story has the power to change lives, and
that’s why I’m willing to share mine.
As a sheltered Christian girl growing up in a small
Wisconsin town of less than six hundred people, I never dreamed the path my
life would take. When I planned my “wedding and life book” in my high school
senior home-ec class, I pictured myself marrying a missionary or a pastor. We
would have two biological children and adopt four from other countries. Our
lives would be a happily-ever-after story.
Jump ahead ** years to July 19, 2002. Sonny and I
danced at our wedding reception. Both divorced, we’d gotten engaged six months
after we met. But we waited nineteen months to get married so his two daughters and
my two daughters could spend more time together prior to the wedding. As
important, my youngest was starting college that fall, and with all four girls
off living their own lives, we’d avoided any upheaval during their high school
years. The night we married, our friends and family celebrated—including our
daughters. It was memorable, and we believed we were both going to get a happy ending to our story.
But on Friday, September 13, we were awakened at
2:00 a.m. by a chaplain from the sheriff’s department. Sonny’s beautiful
nine-teen-year-old daughter, Angie, had been killed in a freak car accident in
Oregon while visiting college friends. Our lives were thrown into turmoil.
That horrific incident was followed by two years of
unemployment for Sonny. Boeing had laid off thousands of employees over the
course of some months. He was one of the last. With that many people unemployed
in the area, there was no work to be found.
A few months after he was called back to work, Sonny
confessed to having a drinking problem. Finally, some things made sense … Behaviors I’d attributed to grief and
emotions connected to years of unemployment were actually due to the amount of alcohol he was
secretly consuming every day while I was at work. He checked himself into a thirty-day rehab
facility, came out determined to make some changes, and has been sober for ten
years.
The first three years of our married life was filled
with challenges. But we don’t feel sorry for ourselves—and we don’t want anyone
else to either. We came through those painful experiences closer—stronger—and with a
story of HOPE.
Hope
that God will provide our needs—physical, emotional, and spiritual.
Hope
that spring and new life will follow our winters.
Hope
that God has a plan for our future.
“For I know the plans I have for
you,” says the Lord. “They are plans for good and not for disaster, to give you
a future and a hope.” (Jeremiah 29:11
NIV)
We’ve walked through divorce, a child’s death,
unemployment, and alcoholism. We
understand what it’s like to live in those situations, and that knowledge has
given us opportunities to support and encourage people struggling with
heartaches. Our story gives us purpose.
I think most of us are tempted to hide our stories
because they’re humiliating or painful. I’ve certainly felt that at times. But
Sonny and I have also found freedom in admitting that our lives haven’t been
perfect.
My pastor encourages people to tell their stories,
but he also emphasizes that it’s important to wait until you’re healed. Don’t
preach while you’re still wounded. I agree. It can easily become too much about
ourselves and looking for sympathy. That’s not helpful.
You don’t have to live through a tragedy to have a
worthy story to tell. Don’t believe for a nano-second that your story isn’t
interesting, exciting, funny, or sad enough to share. Trust me. You have
something that someone needs to hear—just be open to the nudging in your heart.
Everyone has a story … and you’re writing yours
every day.
Do
you believe you have a story to tell? Do you think someone might benefit from
hearing it?
Dawn
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