The Way Everlasting
By Ruth (38)
On April 19, 2008, as I lay crying on the floor of the public restroom, not caring for my bridesmaid dress, my only comfort was my mother telling me that we could go home. I have no recollection of the drive home from my beautiful sister’s wedding that day, as only four days earlier, the man I had intended to marry had been torn from my life in a tragic event which now shrouded my life in darkness and left me broken.
Tony McClean – teacher, surfer, adventurer, and lover of God – was my boyfriend. I was 25, and he was 29. A canyoning disaster took away his life and stole my future. It would be years before I met Shane, a life-giving soul, with whom I healed. Restored was the idea of marriage, the idea of sharing my life with someone. But despite our mutual care for one another, a future with Shane was not to be; he desired to have children, and I did not.
I knew from a young age that I wasn’t going to have my own children. I vividly recall going to the maternity hospital to welcome my first nephew into our family. I was 17. As my father and I walked the halls of the wards, the walls muffling the cries of women in childbirth, I declared, ‘I will never be in here. I’m not going to have children.’
Dad assured me not to worry, and that I would change my mind. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to be a mother, I did. I knew that with certainty. God had planted that seed in my heart. I was going to be a mother, but I would never birth my own children.
In 2014, a family incident bought me home to Christchurch, and I moved in with my brother. At that time, in every part of my life, I felt successful. In losing Tony, I had become fiercely independent. There was nothing I could not do, no problem I could not solve. The only exception to this – my love life. It wasn’t long before I was ‘chatting’ with Cam, whom I met online. My desperation blinded me from the red flags that were there from the start. It was a slow and painful descent into a controlling and abusive relationship.
Leading a double life as a Christian, practically living with my partner and his two children, wreaked havoc on my mental and emotional health. The complete devastation of who I was, and the victim I had become, left me wondering where was the girl I used to be? I could not hear God, not because of His absence, but because I chose not to hear. I ignored the cries of my friends and family who watched, rendered helpless, and instead stayed in a relationship that destroyed me.
It was 2017 before I finally stepped out from behind the veil of victimisation. It is with sadness and relief that I recall the moment I realised I was free. I saw someone who needed help. The simple act of taking groceries to a car, and knowing I could help, was the pivotal point of revelation. I realised how bound by sin and brokenness I had been – so tied up that I had gotten to the point where I could not see others’ needs. Although painful, with the help of an honest friend, I finally found the courage to leave my relationship. It is here that the healing process began.
Mark, my husband, occasionally is the unsuspecting victim of my brokenness from which I continue to heal. One of my students summed it up well. Upon hearing that I, his teacher, was marrying his principal, he said, ‘Miss, I think it’s good. It’s like a second chance. Our principal’s wife died, and you lost Tony, and now you both have a second chance at love.’
My student saw the completeness of what was always meant to be. Our ‘second chance’ has God’s handprints plastered all over it. I could never have imagined that at 36, a decade after losing the man I thought I was going to marry, I would marry my best friend and that together, with our wounded pasts, we would raise two boys – my boys, the children I knew I would parent, yet never birth.
God has rescued me from grief. He has healed the pain of my past, including those offences I brought upon myself. He has redeemed me.
‘See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.’
Psalm 139: 24 (NIV)
Sisters, may He too lead you in the way everlasting.
PROMPT: Which parts of your story have caused you pain and heartache? These may be things you had no control over, like the death of a loved one, or they may be the consequence of choices you made that you now regret. If you want to, write them down. When you’re done, hold out your pen and offer it to your heavenly Father, as a symbol of giving Him permission to write a beautiful redemptive story on the pages of your future.
PRAYER: Father, thank you that pain and heartache are not the end of my story. I know that you are able to take the broken pieces from my life and create something more beautiful than I could have ever imagined. I give all those pieces to You today. I’m sorry for the times when I’ve tried to carve my own path and create my own happiness. I surrender my life afresh to You and receive your beautiful gift of grace. Today, I put my hand in Yours and ask You to lead me in the way everlasting.
