This is the third of a series of blogs from Upside Down Joy.
One of the influencers of my life has taught me a lot about joy. She felt like all she had was taken away. Her story, told below in her own words, has helped me see the world upside-down.
That Sunday morning seemed like any other. I woke up and went to church with my husband and two boys. Little did I know within just a few hours my whole life would start to spin out of control.
Just as the service came to an end, my husband said, “I see it all different now.”
I didn’t know what he was talking about.
What did he see differently? How could he see anything differently?
The sermon had been clear enough, not really much interpretation to be had.
I was puzzled when he sat back down in his seat as all the other people around us started to leave their seats and make their way out. I sat next to him and asked what he was talking about. He said he couldn’t talk about it in front of the kids.
We had a family tradition of going out to eat on Sundays after church. On this day he decided we should go to a fancy Japanese restaurant. It didn’t make much sense, but since I love Japanese, it was hard to argue. We sat at the hibachi area, and although there were other people sharing our table, I tried to ask him again what he meant.
I was met all over again with little reply. I was growing more and more confused; I felt sick in the pit of my stomach. But never, not ever, ever, ever, could I have prepared for what was to unfold.
It was an unseasonably warm, early December day. When we arrived home, I sent the boys out to play. Finally we were alone. My husband was no longer quiet. In a matter of minutes, everything about our life came into question. He told me of infidelity, drugs, and a changing set of beliefs.
This could not be happening, not to me, not to us, not to my boys. As my boys came in and out of the house, I hid my tears as I gathered as much information as I could.
Details continued to pour out, maybe because of his guilt, maybe because of righteousness. Who knows why really? Minutes became hours, and soon it was getting dark.
He was leaving us.
I insisted he communicate something to the boys before leaving us. He managed to tell them he needed to think and pray because he had done something that hurt me. They weren’t sure what he meant; with that he left.
I think I need to rewind a little to give you a better picture of me, of us.
I’ve been a Christian since I was seven. My parents are strong Christians; my dad is a pastor. I served several times in different missional positions.
I am an artist. I am a photographer. I am artsy and creative in just about everything I do. I would have described myself as even-keeled, levelheaded, happy-go-lucky, friendly, and loved. I even considered myself cherished by my husband.
He was the perfect husband and father. He was loving and present. He loved God and led the way in “pushing the envelope” on how we approached our continual commitment to God. He always challenged me to be more sacrificial. He was generous and funny. People other than just me enjoyed his company. He was smart and insightful. He was caring and he loved well.
We were still in love after almost thirteen years. We were doing all the right things—going on dates, communicating well, and putting God first.
He provided. I stayed home. I took care of the kids. I made art.
I lost my husband and best friend. I lost the father of my kids.
I lost my stability.
I lost my appetite.
I lost my evening companion. I lost my desire to sing.
I lost my desire to laugh.
I lost my desire to talk.
I had to give up my house. I had to give up my cat. I had to sell my stuff.
I lost a friend.
I had to leave my town.
I had to leave my church.
I had to give up worship team. I even lost me.
No matter which way I turned, I was faced with a sense of loss. I no longer felt like myself. My personality and my confidence were changing before my eyes. I was anxious and afraid. I felt as if I was broken in a million pieces.
I was deeply sad. I understood what it meant to go to bed crying, and wake up crying. I cried every time I was alone in the car. I cried at church. I cried when singing. I lay down face first, in the middle of my living room floor, and cried. I did not think there would ever be any tears left, and then I cried some more.
I was also extremely lonely. I wanted company in the most desperate way, and yet sometimes people hurt me with their words, with their questions, with their lack of sensitivity.
God is good.
Joy comes in the morning.
Everything is going to be OK.
You’re strong; you’ll get through this.
God doesn’t give you more than you can handle.
One day you’ll look back on this, and you’ll be better off.
Why do you think he did this?
Do you think he never believed in God?
Do you think he has gone crazy?
Children are resilient.
There must have been signs that you just didn’t notice.
These and so many more were the kinds of statements I heard over the next few days and months. The questions of well-meaning people became the source of much pain and grief. Do we really think we’re being helpful when we say such things to a hurting person? Do we bring them joy?
No! An emphatic no! We do not and we cannot bring joy. Joy is not something we humans can manufacture. In fact, I think we try to hold onto it tightly, but our methods are mostly wrong, and so we actually create the opposite.
Then there’s the question why? I attempted to make sense of a good God, who was pushing me where I did not want to go, taking things away I wasn’t willing to give up, to make me something I did not want to become.
The next year presented some of the greatest challenges I had ever faced. I was desperate for a turnaround. I was desperate for God to move. I wanted Him to rescue me, to make things better.
Months went by and God started to show Himself to me in a variety of ways.
When I was lonely and desperate for some conversation, He would make sure no one was available, so that I would continue to cling to Him.
When I did not know how to respond to a particular situation, God would then provide the right words from wise, loving people who said just the right things.
When I could not figure out how a bill would be paid, people would hand me $100 bills and tell me that someone wanted me to have that.
When I was becoming a burden to my friends, God provided a counselor.
When my kids needed an outing, friends took them out.
When I needed a word of encouragement, someone would text me that they were praying for me or they would send me Scripture.
Time and again God proved Himself. His people were His hands and feet. It was incredible to feel like I was getting a glimpse into God’s working network.
For every problem I had, God provided a solution.
I still had unresolved court cases. God orchestrated unexpected outcomes.
I had to figure out what the school situation would bring. God answered those prayers in ways I couldn’t prepare for.
I had to vacate and sell everything in my house as a single mom. I found buyers and helpers in the most unlikely places.
I couldn’t find an apartment or a job. Someone from our church offered us two bedrooms in their home, with a yard and more, with no strings attached.
While God provided these solutions, He also opened my eyes to some unexpected conclusions. They seemed so upside down.
I first noticed these upside-down outcomes in my children’s lives. Kids who suffer a tragedy in the home usually suffer in school. My kids were getting straight As. When people think of the behaviors they would expect from boys without a father, they would expect unruliness and trouble. My boys were winning competitions, getting artwork displayed at the county show, learning to play the electric bass, and talking about college.
I personally saw God working in my life. The trauma and hardships made my artwork better. It was more dynamic than ever before. Now I’m working in a job that uses my art skills.
Despite these upside-down realities I am still a long way from feeling like I am whole, but I’m beginning to feel like pieces of me are coming together again. I might become something beautiful after all.
Through all of this I am learning not to push for my will and my way. Isaiah 55:8 says, “For My thoughts are not your thoughts, and your ways are not My ways.” This may sound good as a memory verse, but became different when I viewed it as God telling me to accept things that didn’t work, that I didn’t like or understand. Acceptance has been the hardest and last piece of this complicated puzzle.
None of this feels good, and I certainly don’t feel happy about it. But God asks us to trust and accept His ways because He knows us better than we know ourselves. If we can begin to accept what He has for us, then we can begin to trust Him. If we trust Him, then we don’t need to see down the road. If we accept that He is a good God, then we don’t need to wonder what’s up ahead; we can just begin to enjoy Him.
God works through sin, sickness, struggle, and death to show us that we don’t need any of the things we think we need. All we need is Him. Oh the joy!