Sit down and have a cup of coffee. This is going to be a long one. I sat and sketched out what I wanted to write, and it kept getting longer and longer. Hopefully, you hang in there with me.
I grew up in a Dutch Christian Reformed household and community. I was raised in the church and came to know Jesus at an early age. That may sound simple, however; my journey was anything but. Church was required in my house. We went twice on Sunday, along with Sunday school, Bible study on Wednesday nights and youth group on the weekends. When I was in the 8th grade, my parents decided to change our home church because they were not being “fed”. At the time I did not know what that meant. We moved to a church down the street, but it was not a Christian Reformed church, it was Evangelical Free. This style of worship was different and not so ritualistic, so in our community, it was looked down upon. Some of my parents friends were appalled that they left the Christian Reformed church and chose to go to a place where worship seemed so liberal and demonstrative. They even lost some friends as they tried to grow in the Lord.
This new church of ours opened my eyes to what being a Christian was all about. My relationship with Christ flourished during this time. Church was cool. Church friends were cool. My youth group was my lifeline.
I remained at that church and eventually got married there. My husband became a believer in that church. Shortly after we were married, we moved to another state and had to find a new place of worship. We “shopped” around for quite some time, but never found a church to call home.
My faith wavered. My husband worked unbelievable hours and was so unhappy. I was bitter because I not only worked full time, but with the addition of two children in 18 months, I felt as if I was raising my children by myself. I was tired and I was lonely. I was not a wise steward with our money and we accumulated a large amount of debt. I was not in the word and prayer seemed like a waste of time.
Without my knowledge, my husband had in the works a job change. This job change would mean relocating back to our home state, leaving our newly built home, and basically starting over. My husband would become a Chicago Police Officer and within 9 months, we were packing.
Now, I always knew that my husband wanted to be a police officer, so about that I was not angry. I did blame him, however; for the suddenness of our move, for leaving our new home, and for the bulk of the responsibility of that move to come being on my shoulders. We struggled financially, emotionally, and our marriage was in shambles. I was being selfish. My faith was pretty much non-existent and I felt guilty about it.
After moving to Chicago, it took us about a year to find a church. It was small, had a small congregation, but an open heart to my little family. My husband came to church when he could, but it was not often.
I became involved in the church, but the programs for my children were few. They began to dislike church and at some point, I didn’t blame them. There were no kids their age. Each and every Sunday was a struggle. Many times I would hear, “Well if Dad doesn’t have to go to church, why do I?”
Things were about to change for us. Just not for the better. On March 19, 2012, I got the dreaded knock on the door in the middle of the night. My husband had been shot in the line of duty. He was alive, but being transported to the trauma unit at our local hospital and I needed to get there immediately. He was not expected to make it.
I prayed that night. I begged God that night. AND, I got angry with God that night. Why us? Why my husband? What were we going to do? What about my kids?
Even though I had all of these questions and worries, I still gave it to God. I was sick with worry during those long hours my husband was in surgery, but at the same time, I had a peace about me. God would see us through.
My husband made it through surgery, but would be in ICU for days. He would be disabled and recovery would take years, if at all. God answered prayer. Yet, I was still angry.
Our church did wonders for us. Prayer, meals, visits, monetary gifts…there was no end to their generosity. Still, I was angry. My husband was angry. My kids were angry. Our world had been turned inside out and upside down. We went to church less and less. I let my Bible catch dust on the shelf and the only prayer uttered was at the dinner table.
My kids suffered at school. My husband became addicted to pain medication. My husband officially went on disability. We were terrible at communicating and our marriage continued to suffer. We became strangers in the same house. We went to counseling and our kids did as well. It was short-lived, but in my heart, I knew that nothing was going to get right for me and my house until I got right with God.
I started to pull out my Bible and read it. I purchased a devotional and committed to it each morning. I didn’t go back to our church though. I was embarrassed of what we had become and I felt as if I had let them down.
I started small and began to talk to God again. I began to trust my husband again, I began to give my children to God in prayer.
Did things get better? Not exactly. Things got…different. At times I felt like I was living in Job’s house. Test after test, trial after trial… would our family ever get a break?
After a conversation with my husband, we decided to find a new church. One where we could start fresh and get “fed”. We went back to the church where we started our life together. It is now in a new location, with a new pastor, but it felt like home. We don’t go every Sunday…yet. My prayer is that soon we will. I have committed myself to continue my imperfect journey with God. I have asked for his forgiveness and confessed my many sins. I am in his word every day. I am putting off the worldly idols that I have been consumed with and immersing myself in Christian music, podcasts, literature, and whatever I can get my hands on.
And so, we come to this blog. God has put it on my heart and mind that this is something I should try. Maybe someone will be encouraged by my imperfect self. Maybe someone who is angry, like I was, will find a way out of that darkness. Maybe someone will just find a good recipe for banana bread. Whatever has led you here, I am grateful.
Continue this journey with me. Grow in the Lord with me. I must warn you though, I am a sinner. Through Christ alone, I am saved.
Welcome
