“Holidays Are Hard.”
My hope in sharing this vulnerable part of my story is not to gather sympathy but to offer encouragement to anyone who can relate to the phrase, “Holidays are hard.”
It was the week of Thanksgiving.
I woke up and walked over to my husband’s side of the bed to see who could be messaging us so late at night. I was worried it might be a family member in trouble. I opened his phone and my heart dropped. It was a little yellow heart-eyed smiley face emoji from an unknown number. Any previous conversation had already been deleted from the text thread.
“Baby, what’s wrong?”
He climbed out of bed and joined me on the couch. I sat there grasping his phone in utter disbelief.
“Becca, what’s going on? What’s the matter? Let me see my phone.”
I shook my head no and tried not to cry. It hurt to look at him. Only moments before I was sound asleep in his arms. My heart began to beat like a wild war drum and I was struggling to comprehend what I just saw. “He’s sleeping with someone else. Did he wear his ring? Something must be wrong with me.” I could hardly breathe. I asked God to give me the right words to say. My heart pounded louder and louder as the seconds dragged on. “It was just an emoji. That doesn’t mean he’s cheating. But why do I have a horrible feeling that he is?” It felt like the world was spinning and turning upside down all at the same time. My mind raced through our love story. We grew up together. He promised me when we were 16 that he would marry me and at 24, he did. We had just celebrated our 1 year wedding anniversary. I slowly inhaled and let the words come out on the exhale.
“Would you like to tell me what’s going on? I’m not going to tell you what I saw on your phone. The level of integrity you choose to walk in right now is entirely up to you. That’s between you and God.”
He sat motionless at the end of the couch. Like a new inmate waiting in a holding cell for a pat down and a bright orange jumpsuit, he placed his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. That wasn’t the answer I was looking for. I wanted him to tell me everything was alright and we could go back to bed now. I wanted to believe the best but his body language left me preparing for the worst. I gazed into the carpet hoping he had a good explanation. This wasn’t the first time I’d found something like this on his phone. But this wasn’t porn. This was a text. The tension in my chest increased as I waited for his response. I’d learned earlier in our marriage that confronting him with “evidence” set us up for an ugly argument, gaslighting and a lot left under the rug. He would apologize to me for the inch, and get away with the mile. His apologies weren’t a precursor to changed behavior, they felt like a Monopoly “Get Out of Jail Free” card. There always seemed to be more to the story than what he was willing to share, which broke trust. I rationalized this pattern of behavior by telling myself we were still young and learning effective communication in our marriage. This time, I decided not to say anything at all. If he wanted to come clean and be honest with me about what was going on, that was entirely on him. I didn’t want to play Sherlock Holmes and try to find the truth or interrogate him. I needed to know that I was safe and cared for by a man brave enough to walk in integrity and tell me the truth - even if he messed up. The longer we sat in silence, the more the reality began to sink in. Holding back my tears, I looked at the man I loved, hoping it wasn’t true. At times he would try to say something, but nothing would come out of his mouth. He would stare into the empty fireplace for awhile, avoiding eye contact at all cost, shake his head and cover his face in his shame again. Every emotion you can imagine burned through the center of my chest. I braced myself, hoping I wouldn’t hear what I knew I needed to. Was he going to tell me he didn’t love me anymore? Was there someone else? I thought we loved each other. We sat in silence on that couch for what felt like forever. The conversation that followed was gut-wrenching. Even though it was the week of Thanksgiving, I couldn’t make myself eat anything for days after that. My heart was shattered. We joined our families Thanksgiving festivities a few days later and tried to pretend like everything was okay, but it wasn’t.
We have a family tradition of going around the dining room table and sharing the things we are thankful for. In the depths of grief and heartache, I struggled to find much more than food, clothing and basic shelter to put on my list. Everything I thought I was thankful for that year had just been taken away from me. The person I thought would love, care for and cherish me, like he had promised, had just backstabbed and betrayed me instead. Nothing seemed to take the pain of that knife away. I listened to my relatives taking turns going around the table and giving thanks for things I no longer had. I couldn’t give thanks for a faithful, loving husband, a beautiful marriage, healthy children or a nice home that year. That wasn’t my reality. When it came our turn to share, he said he was thankful for me and acted like nothing had happened. He wanted to work it out. When it was my turn, I couldn’t brave face it anymore. I burst into tears and humbly asked our family to pray for us.
His one night stand turned out to be the least of our problems. Over the next year, the deeper issues came to the light. The following Thanksgiving I visited him in rehab. We ate our turkey dinner with felons who were recently released on parol, other recovering addicts, and staff. Very few wives were there offering their support. I said goodbye to him on the porch, and returned to our empty apartment that night sad but hopeful. I knew the other mens families were feeling it too. It was so painful sitting alone on that old couch, watching Instagram stories of people celebrating the holiday with their spouses, announcing new babies, men honoring their wives for cooking great food, etc. I had to stop scrolling. Comparison was drowning out gratitude in my heart. Would we ever have those beautiful moments together? Some people criticized my decision to stay with him, but I felt I owed it to our marriage to hold out hope while he finished his year long recovery program. After all, I had made a commitment to support him in sickness and in health. He said he was serious about getting help and healing our marriage and he seemed to be proving it through his actions. I had faith for a miracle for us too.
Surely there is a future, and your hope will not be cut off. -Proverbs 23:18 ESV
The Thanksgiving after that was the week I knew it was time to file for divorce. I had tried everything, but it was clear over time that he wasn’t serious about staying faithful in our relationship, choosing sobriety or prioritizing my wellbeing or safety. I deactivated my social media accounts that holiday season. I just couldn’t do it. This was three Thanksgivings in a row now that I didn’t have much of an appetite. Well-meaning friends and family would suggest things I should be grateful for, like not having children, still being young, finding out sooner rather than later, etc. The worst was when older women would compare their trauma to mine and suggest that I be thankful I didn't have it as bad as they did. None of that helped, it hurt. Every dream I had up until that point had shriveled up and died. I was struggling to be positive about that. I felt like I needed more than gratitude and positive thinking to walk me through the valley of the shadow of death. It’s uncomfortable to admit, but at times I wanted to die too - the pain was more than I thought I could bare. It was hard to talk about, especially during the holiday season. I didn’t want to ruin other people’s joyous time by talking about my hardships. It had been almost 4 years of chaos and heartache that resulted in divorce.
He ended up marrying another woman right after our divorce finalized, breaking my heart all over again. I was devastated and humiliated.
Instead of small talking at holiday parties, I’d quietly excuse myself to the restroom. The tears would stream down my face as I looked myself in the mirror and tried to hold myself together. Why wasn’t I good enough for him? Why couldn’t my story be happy like the couples sitting around me at the dinner table? Why couldn’t we have babies? Jesus would meet me behind that locked bathroom door every time. If anyone understands the agony of pouring yourself out for a person only to be rejected and discarded by them, it's Jesus. If anyone understands the heartache of loving someone who doesn't love you back, it's Jesus. In 2 Corinthians 1:3, He is called “the God of all comfort.” Every time I’d fall apart, He would put me back together again with His love, giving me the strength to return to those dining room tables and rejoice with those who were rejoicing.
“Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.” —Psalm 23:4
Slowly, trauma lost its grip on me and I found healing and wholeness through the love of Jesus. If anyone can relate to the pain of loss and bring comfort and healing, it’s Him. Isaiah 53 describes Jesus as “a man of sorrows acquainted with grief.” Not only did those that He love betray Him and abandon Him, they beat Him to a pulp and tried to kill Him by hanging Him on a cross to die. As an innocent man, He went through the scrutiny of laying his life down for a people that rejected him, so that through His blood, they might be forgiven not only from those sins, but from all sin. He made a blood covenant with us that day, choosing to love us through any and everything, cleansing us from all our faults and failures and choosing relationship with us. Throughout those dark years when I couldn’t find much to be thankful for, I’d cry out in prayer and ask Him to help me. He would remind me of the day that He made a covenant with me by dying for my sins on the cross. It was comforting to be reminded that even though my ex-husband had broken his covenant to me, God never breaks His. I’d search the scriptures for His promises, praying them over my life and thanking Him for His faithfulness to me, even in the midst of such painful life circumstances.
Thank you God for being near to the brokenhearted (Psalm 34:18), for not only being near, but also promising to bring healing to my heartache and comfort in my time of mourning (Isaiah 61, Luke 4:18). Thank you Holy Spirit for promising to never leave me or trade me out for someone “better” (Hebrews 13:5) Thank you for calming my storms and giving me the power and strength to step out and place the storms under my feet as I keep my eyes fixed on You. Thank you that in you, I have hope.
John 10:10 says that the devil comes to steal kill and destroy but Jesus came to give us life and life more abundantly. He uses ALL things for the good of those who love Him and are called according to His purpose. (Romans 8:28) By His redeeming power, our pain has purpose. When I was grieving the loss of my in-laws, I’d thank Him for making me apart of His family. (Romans 8:15) Ultimately, I’d thank Him for going to the cross, shedding His blood, feeling neglected, unloved, abandoned and betrayed on my behalf, in order to atone for sins, sending us the Holy Spirit and granting us access to our Heavenly Father. The Holy Spirit in the Bible is described by names like the Comforter, the Healer, the Great Physician, the Advocate, the Deliverer, a Defender, etc. Through Christ, we have full access to the Holy Spirit and He promises to help us in our time of trouble. One night, when I was crying out to God and asking Him for Comfort, He led me to this verse:
“I will give you treasures hidden in the darkness— secret riches. I will do this so you may know that I am the LORD, the God of Israel, the one who calls you by name.” -Isaiah 45:3
Some of the most beautiful gem stones in the entire world can only be found in places of deep darkness. There is good that can only come from dark places. When we are in a dark place, we are often tempted to blame God for the darkness instead of reminding ourselves that He is the light and in Him there is no darkness. (John 1:15) He is faithful, even when no one else is. Instead of blaming God for the dark times in our lives, we can trust that He will faithfully grab our hand and lead us back into the light. The darkness will not overtake us.
As the years went by, the holidays got easier and easier for me. Slowly God healed my wounds and refilled my heart with a deep sense of gratitude. Trauma from past holidays no longer haunts me the way it used to. I have the Lord to thank for that. He is so good and really does bring light to our deepest darkness.
“If I say, ‘Surely the darkness shall cover me, and the light about me be night,’ even the darkness is not dark to you; the night is bright as the day, for darkness is as light with you.”
—Psalm 139:11-12
Whatever it is that you may be going through today, I have good news for you! You are not alone. You are loved and seen by a good, faithful, compassionate God! If you don’t have a faith of your own and are in need of hope, simply pray and ask God to bring light into the dark places of your heart. Jesus is the light, and when you choose to believe in Him and invite Him to envade the darkness of your life with His love, everything changes.
For a list of some of my favorite promises of God, checkout my blog Porches & Promises
“I will give you treasures hidden in the darkness— secret riches. I will do this so you may know that I am the LORD, the God of Israel, the one who calls you by name.”
-Isaiah 45:3
