beyond my wildest dreams

Three years ago this week, my life was in turmoil.

On July 8, 2005 I was packing the moving truck that would take all my belongings to Dallas and only days away from my wedding. I was excited and hopeful and lost in my own little fairy tale dream of how perfect my life was going to be... then I answered my phone.

When I think back to that week, I remember very little, but what I do remember is incredibly vivid. I remember the exact spot where I was standing in the parking lot of my apartment when I got the call about Kim, and I remember leaning on my car and letting the metal burn my bare skin as the words I heard slowly sank in. I remember leaving a wedding shower then running for miles and miles in the suffocating July heat as tears ran uncontrollably down my cheeks because the physical pain somehow alleviated the aching in my heart. I remember racing through my bridal portraits then ripping off my veil and quickly throwing on a black dress to attend a funeral that never should have happened. And I remember moving numbly through my wedding, still a bit in shock at how life was continuing as if nothing had happened while my emotions hadn't yet caught up.

My husband and I mark our third anniversary today, and while I love my husband dearly and cannot fathom my life without him, this day is always a little bittersweet. The memories of our wedding will always be intricately woven with the memories of Kim's death... a bit of a blessing and a curse.

My idyllic bubble burst that Friday morning, and shortly after our wedding I fell into a deep depression. I was utterly unequipped to deal with the grief I was experiencing, and everyone around me expected a glowing, happy-go-lucky newlywed. I was alone in Dallas, miserable in my job, and desperately missed my friends and church in College Station. My safety net was gone, and I crashed fast and hard. Within a matter of months, I was hardly eating, and I was sleeping more than I was awake. Though I covered it well in public, I was falling apart... and for the first time in my life I couldn't run.

In the book Sacred Marriage, Gary Thomas suggests that God's plan for marriage has far more to do with our holiness than our happiness. I can't speak for everyone, but in my case, it definitely works. Though there have been moments of tremendous happiness, these three years have been filled to the brim with struggles that have pushed both of us to increased holiness. I'd be lying if I said it had been easy or even that I've recognized all along what a blessing I was receiving because, honestly, it's been rough. There have been many days that I wanted to walk away, and many more that I was angry at how hard I was having to work just to find some semblance of normalcy. It's only been recently that the balance has shifted.

Most of the first three years of our marriage have been defined by my illness. I've wished more times than I can count that I had gotten help earlier, before I involved someone else, but I recognize now that outside of marriage, I would have never had a reason to put myself through the pain that comes with healing.

I know I wouldn't have chosen this path... the path of discomfort, struggling, pain. I would have much preferred the easy road... the fairy tale I dreamed of. Fortunately, I didn't get to choose. The God who knit me together before I was born had a greater plan than I could have ever asked or imagined.

love you, B. Happy anniversary.