Grace Through The Valley – Hope for the Widow

5,598 Days

This is a hard season for our family, and I know we are not alone. No one is truly alone in any situation or season of life. I’ve told my children on many occasions that if they ever think they have it bad, all they need to do is look beyond themselves. There are always others who are facing circumstances far more difficult.

I’m honestly not even sure where to begin, but I suppose a little background would be helpful.

On September 4, 2010, with a simple hello, I met the love of my life. We were six months and three days apart in age and knew almost instantly that we would marry. We were both thirty-five, neither of us had ever been married, and neither of us had children. I had waited my whole life for him. When I first saw a picture of him before we met, I told the person who introduced us that he was “not my type.”

Well, I married “not my type,” and I loved every single second of being his girlfriend, fiancée, and wife.

Did we have a perfect marriage? No. But we had an amazing marriage.

On the most beautiful 80-degree St. Patrick’s Day, we were married. Our wedding was perfect and everything I had imagined it would be. Like most couples say, the day flew by quickly, but we weren’t just planning a wedding—we were planning a marriage. We were counting on forever.

Our marriage was wonderful. Yes, we had our share of arguments and our fair share of award-winning stubborn moments, but we also understood something very important: our marriage was a covenant. There were times we could be in the middle of an argument and one of us would simply say, “This is a covenant,” and suddenly everything would fizzle out. We both respected and loved each other deeply.

We understood that marriage wasn’t a contract. It wasn’t something you walked away from when things became hard or when you didn’t agree. Early in our marriage we decided that divorce was never an option, except in the most serious circumstances—unfaithfulness or abuse.

Our marriage was also met with many serious life events.

Seven months after we were married, while trying to start a family, I was diagnosed with thyroid cancer. From the beginning I knew it was curable, and I never once allowed my mind to wander beyond that. Life-altering? Absolutely. Horrible? No.

However, treatment combined with our age eventually led to infertility. Like many couples in that situation, everyone had advice for us. We listened politely, smiled, and held tightly to our faith as we prayed about what God had for our family.

What we didn’t realize during those difficult days was that God was already preparing us for something far greater than we could have ever imagined.

It was during that season of isolation that God spoke clearly to my heart and called us into foster care. When I first shared this with my husband, it felt a little like dropping a bomb on him. His immediate answer was “no.” For once, I didn’t push the issue. I simply asked him to pray about it.

And he did.

Three days later that “no” became a “yes,” and we never looked back.

Twelve years ago we welcomed the most precocious, beautiful, hungry, and terrified little girls into our home. We instantly loved them, and we instantly knew we would do whatever it took to keep them safe and loved.

What we didn’t know at that moment was that God would entrust us with them forever.

It has been an incredible journey, and next to being Jason’s wife, my greatest accomplishment has been becoming their mother. They are living proof that only God can change the trajectory of a life. They have been one of the greatest blessings of our lives, and they make the world a better place every single day. God has given them such beautiful gifts and talents.

Fast forward twelve years and, once again, we heard the words no one ever wants to hear:

“It’s cancer.”

This wasn’t anything like my thyroid cancer. This was much bigger. Even though there was a high cure rate, we never expected the path that was set before us.

Everything happened so quickly. There was very little time to think or to fully process what was happening. From diagnosis to death, it was 176 days.

Five months and twenty-three days.

These last three months without my husband have taught me so much, and yet I still have so much to learn. In the coming days, weeks, months, and years, I hope to share hope and encouragement with you.

It would be easy to be angry with God, but I refuse.

God is sovereign, and His ways are better than mine. Even in the pain, I trust Him.

I was blessed to love my husband for 5,598 days—just a little over fifteen years. I know that I will see him again, and I know that Heaven is his home.

If you find yourself walking through a valley of grief, especially as a widow, I hope you will stay and walk this journey with me. I don’t have all the answers, and some days I’m simply taking the next step in faith. But I believe God is present even in the deepest valleys. My prayer is that through this space you will find encouragement, hope, and the reminder that you are never alone.