Let Me Suffer

I get it. I know that opening this blog/email with the tingling anticipation to hear what wisdom Lance has to lay on you AND then realizing it’s not written by Lance… is a bummer. It’s how I feel when my church has a guest pastor. It’s just not quite the same. I get it, I really do. So, here is your chance to hit that little red “x” at the top or continue on with just a bit of prejudice. I’m a big girl I can handle that.

I am the fiance of that red bearded man we all care for so much. I am a love junkie who spent my whole life getting high from whoever was around me to prop me up. I was a breathing, walking leach just quietly waiting under the surface for my next victim. See, people look at me strange now when they find out I’m not a substance abuse addict. Almost like I’m not qualified to be leading the women’s program full of addicts and alcoholics. And that’s ok because to be honest, maybe I’m not.

I didn’t turn to drugs and alcohol as my coping mechanism but I am eternally grateful Lance did. That might just be the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever read, to be grateful for Lance’s addiction. But make no mistake I am glad for it. See, I met Lance about 8 years ago just as addiction was a fleeting thought in his head. We were engaged just 7 months after we met and if I was really honest nothing felt right about our relationship. I remember the day Lance came to me and said, “I am taking these pain pills. I might be taking too many and I don’t really know what to do.” My ever wise advice was simply to stop. Give them to me and we will put them away together and it will be the end of it.

Six months later, I am looking at his body laid out on a hospital bed, tubes everywhere. His body convulsing as his neuroreceptors were wiped clean of the opiates that had latched on so tight. This wasn’t the track I had ever envisioned our lives going down.

He made it two weeks. On Valentine’s Day, he threw my dog across the yard so I would chase after her instead of standing in front of his car refusing to let him drive to his drug dealers. He almost ran us both over as I hit my knees pleading with him and God to chose me.

I fought for him. For his sobriety. For his healing. It didn’t work. There were countless number of times the same story played out in different forms. He always chose the drugs. I would love to be able to tell you I was smart enough or emotionally strong enough to realize that it was drugs and not really Lance. I wasn’t. It shattered me.

I lost all respect I had for myself. I lost my family because I kept choosing him. I lost all my money trying to heal him. I lost my relationship with God because He never answered my prayers. I lost the ability to take a breath without Lance by my side.

And then the craziest thing happened. After we had both moved on from each other, he got better. In spite of me going over every night to check his pulse to make sure he was still alive. He went to treatment. Without my help or guidance. He got better. And I stayed sick.

Two years into Lance’s sobriety as he was almost in a fist fight with my then other boyfriend, I realized I had a huge, unmanageable problem that I had no idea how to fix. Again, I found myself on my knees begging God to bring Lance back. If he would just come back I would be ok.

The details of how I entered recovery aren’t important. I went to treatment. It worked for a bit but I went back out. It’s the same story most addicts have. I wasn’t ready to fully surrender. I didn’t think it was that bad. I didn’t know how to get better. Then God came all at once and I didn’t even recognize Him.

I healed. I entered recovery. I worked the 12 steps. I learned to hear God’s voice. Recovery has a ripple effect on those around the addict. Once one person chooses to get healthy it puts a big car dealer sized spotlight on everyone else’s sickness.

See, here’s the thing. Whether is was Lance’s addiction, my addiction, his recovery, my recovery, my family, his family or my little puppy. God used it all. I turned to Him because that’s all I had left, sometimes asking for the power to take just one more breath that wouldn’t cripple me. That’s all He needed.

You can say God is cruel to let us suffer such incredible pain and I said it enough for all of us. But, I wouldn’t trade one second of it. He loved me enough to let me suffer and I know it was just as hard on Him as it was on me. But, He had the architectural drawings the whole time. HE knew the foundation had to cure before the wood could be placed.

On August 20, 2015, He softly announced His presence. And in one quick motion pulled back the veil that hadn’t allowed me to see the beautiful world He had constructed just for me. His presence was enough for me to understand that this whole journey had a purpose.  To chase after the life He dreamed for me.

I wrote the email. Surrendered it to Him and knew I had a man on the receiving end who followed God’s will with his whole being. Today, I am the Director of the Women’s Program. I have a fiance that loves me the way God calls us to love a partner. I have a family that is proud of me. And I have a relationship with God so mighty that I call myself the Daughter of the King.

I rejoice because of the pain. I praise God for Lance’s addiction and mine. I am grateful for the years of brokenness. Because He weaves our lives together one piece at a time and every so often, if we ask, He will give us just a small glimpse of the entire work of art. And it will all make sense.