Four Octobers

October 2016

The leaves on the trees were golden as the sun shone through them. The weather was supposed to be beautiful for the weekend. I was scheduled to go on a retreat in the foggy Pennsylvania mountains. A break from life. My life. I could not have predicted where we would end up at year seven of our marriage. Darkness. The months and years dragged on with no change, Caught in a cycle that seemed impossible to break out of.

I clung to opportunities like this to find hope. A retreat. A book. An inspiring sermon. A new year. A joke he cracks. A counseling appointment. When you have tried everything to fix a broken marriage, every small glimmer feels like catching your breath before you are sucked back under. 

The upcoming weekend was supposed to be a respite, but I screamed at him right before I pulled out of the driveway. How can I claim to love Jesus and still sin so deeply? 

I fell apart that October, and I wouldn’t begin to pick up the pieces until the following spring.

October 2017

He left for what I thought we agreed would be one weekend. But he never came back. I didn’t know it, but it was the beginning of the end. That night. That weekend. The darkness over our home was palpable. We took our son to a Halloween event and he wouldn’t even look at me. I remember what I cooked for dinner that Sunday night. Sausage with potatoes, onions, and peppers. Nobody ate. The harsh words lingered in the air with an aroma that overpowered dinner.

I found a new kitchen table on Craigslist the day before. We loaded up and went to get it before another family got there first. Our family looked beautiful on the outside. We appeared  to be a friendly young couple, with a sweet baby boy, and many years of memories ahead.

The seasoned Craigslist couple gave us this 100-year-old amish table for less than the asking price. They must have imagined they were setting up a young family with an heirloom. That we were going to have decades of happy memories around it. And I drank the Kool-Aid. I looked at this table and hoped that it would be true. Prayed that our relationship could be fixed. That we’d get our redemption story. 

Instead, we ate at the table that dark Sunday night for the first and last time.

October 2018

“When do you think you’ll come home?”
“I don’t know. The longer I’m gone, the harder it is to picture being back.”

The words were  painful, but not unexpected. I had grown accustomed to the waiting.

I remember the time we were newly married. Maybe only a year. I asked, “Do you still love me?” And he said “I’m not really sure.”

I was standing in the kitchen. He was in the hallway of our cape cod starter home.  

After he had been gone a year, we began legal separation. I prayed this would be the thing that finally woke him up to the realities of what he was choosing. Our family felt like it was being ripped limb from limb. The summer turned to fall and the next year hung over me like a gigantic question mark. Where would I live? How would I make enough money? What did this mean for our son long term? Paralyzed with fear, I obsessed about the details. I drove family and friends to the brink of insanity with the amount of time that I needed to spend verbally processing and getting advice and sucking wisdom out of every crevice I could find. 

I begged the Lord for sanity in the unknown. 

Each morning, my eyes opened, and my subconscious would recite, “I want to die.” 

Timidly, I recited these words to my therapist. The phrase confused me, because I was not suicidal. I felt sad and afraid, but I didn’t actually want to die. My therapist explained that it was the brain’s way of trying to find a way out. My situation didn’t have clear answers, so when I woke up each morning, death immediately seemed like the easiest way out. 

Summer felt like a distant memory. And winter would be coming. 

October 2019

Ink on the divorce papers had been dry since February. The signing of the papers came with grief and relief. I learned it is possible to hold both feelings simultaneously. I took my son on a weekend vacation to process what just happened and try to have fun with him. 

I had many months and years leading up to the divorce to process and grieve. I thought I had gotten all the feelings out, and that the signing of the papers would not affect me. I thought it would just feel like a formality. But leaving that place, where we signed dozens of sheets of paper dissolving a marriage, left me marked. I was surprised by the emotions. My friend reminded me that scripture is clear about what marriage is. One flesh. We tore apart a covenant that day. And it’s naive to think one could be left unchanged after that.

I continued to spend countless hours and dollars in therapy, processing with family, friends, and my pastors. The Lord brought about healing in ways I didn’t believe were possible. His grace produced spiritual fruit in my life. It happened slowly and then it felt like all of a sudden, I became a different person.  

A sweet man at our church noticed me, and after a few months of developing a friendship we began dating - much to our mutual surprise. Being in a healthy relationship started to shave the ragged edges around my heart that I didn’t know were still there. His love towards me demonstrated the Gospel in a way I didn’t know was possible. 

Slowly, over time, he pulled the string on my knotted up emotions and untied me. 

He was patient to wait for me and pursue me. God taught me that healing happens with scripture and prayer, but also with the saints He places in our lives to love us. When he hugged me for the first time and held me for what felt like an eternity, I suddenly noticed that my hands were clinging to the shirt on his back. Whispering in my ear, he said, “He was a fool to let you go.” Even amongst a strong support network of family and friends, in that moment, I realized the effect of 10 years of marital loneliness. The batteries of my heart got recharged that night in his arms. 

______

As I write this, I have just finished sitting at the 100-year-old amish table in my kitchen two and a half years after we purchased it. A woman in a similar position that I was in is sitting across from me. We sipped hot tea while my son watched cartoons. I shared my story and listened to hers. We talked about keeping our eyes fixed on Jesus. Being faithful in hard circumstances. Confession of sin. Knowing that God sustains us, and He will provide a way for us to move through circumstances, and not out. 

I have learned that October comes every year, but seasons change.