When I married my husband, I was 16 years old. He was an older man at 19! Yes, we were expecting a baby, and we were very much in love.
Naturally, we had big dreams, high hopes, and grand expectations.
We were clueless!
I can only assume that most newlyweds are in a similar boat. After all, marrying the love of your life is a dreamy adventure.
Our first year of marriage was like being on a speeding merry-go-round that propelled us off into adulthood.
For two kids, we managed okay. I look back now and wonder how we did it. As it turned out, those were the carefree days.
We added more children in quick succession, went to college, and worked full time (me at home, hubby at his paying job). Youth is amazing! We had boundless energy and four amazing little children that filled us with such joy.
Of course, life seasons change- we moved several times and had the same struggles as most married couples. There were money struggles, job changes, sickness, deaths of loved ones, and parenting style differences to work through. Often, our marriage was on the back burner as we tended to the needs of the kids. We failed to nurture the precious relationship we both loved. We didn’t really see it then, but I can look back and see it.
The children grew into tweens and teens—all at the same time—so that was fun. No, it really was. It was a blur of activity, but it was great. They grew up too fast!
The days, months, and years passed until they were young adults getting married and having children of their own. A bittersweet time, to be sure. These babies of mine left the nest, and my ability to protect them (yes, I was that naïve), went too.
Our lives had been white-picket-fence-perfect, so I proudly thought I had something to do with it. We all know that pride goes before the fall. I had always landed on fluffy white pillows before, so I expected my life and the lives of my children to be the same.
Love hurts!
Seeing my children deal with life’s challenges is difficult. My instinct is to want to protect them. But they get broken hearts, have job changes, lose loved ones, have parental challenges they must face, medical problems, and so on. We added two more children after the first four grew up, so we are back in the messy middle of teenage life (with a lot less energy).
Losing our son to suicide has taught us once and for all that we are not in control. Our hearts break when our children’s do. Now, we have 17 grandchildren who we love and adore, and we can’t keep them from pain and suffering either – no matter how much we want to.
Grief has taught us that love hurts!
But it is so worth it. Married for over 41 years now, our love only grows deeper over the years. Since we lost our son, it has become deeper and wider still.
We spend a lot of time in prayer! We have a large family, and with that comes brokenness. We see sickness and disease on the regular. Life seasons and heartache are well known here.
Love does hurt!
After all, Jesus loves us so much that he hung on a cross for us. He endured the cross so we can have eternal life—God sacrificed His son because He loves us.
See, love does hurt. But God made a plan to make it all worth it.
Don’t take a moment for granted. Show and share your love with the people in your life—and a few people you don’t know too.
Love does hurt, but it is worth it!
It’s so true. Love really does hurt. I started dating Dan when I was 15. His family became my family and mine his. You know how first cousins always hang out and become as close as siblings? Well his family was inseparable, closer than some siblings. Dan and I got married in 1990, and the extended family did everything together. Meals, church, birthdays, anniversaries, marriages, births… in October 2005, after 15 years of infertility, our only son was born. Our family rejoiced together, having suffered the deep sorrow with us as we prayed and prayed for a child. Then, we got a call on St. Patrick’s day, 2006. Dans cousin had left home for work, pulled over on the side of the street, and committed suicide. I remember the entire family rushing to his aunt and uncle’s house. The shock, the devastation, the unconsolable wails from his cousin’s parents and sisters. It was a horrible day, and although we were all strong Christians, it was the day, the act, that ripped through our family in such a fierce way. For a long time, healing hung back, just far enough away that you never thought it would come. It has to some extent in the fringes, but the parents hit a hard wall, and while appearances show moments of happiness, time simply stood still for them. Their hearts were forever broken, and that part seems to refuse to heal. This was the second tragic suicide I experienced in my family. As a parent, I can’t imagineHow deep and fracturing that pain is. I have seen the devastation suicide can leave within a family, like rings and rings of flattened corn stalks, but for parents, I can truly say it’s beyond what words can describe. The guttural sounds I’ve heard are chilling, numbing, sobering. Faith, you are doing an excellent thing by sharing so openly about Stuart’s death. Thank you, if not for those who have experienced something similar, than for those who may have to minister to someone who does. I love you!
Sweet friend,
thank you for sharing this with me. I am so thankful to have met you all those years ago. I love you!