Prayer just wasn’t enough.
In the end, he didn’t walk out the door, rather it was me who did. I slammed my way outside and grabbed an axe determined to finally chop down those overgrown tree branches that I had been badgering my husband to prune all summer long. I swung around, startled to find my youngest daughter had followed me outside, scared and worried that I was going to do something stupid. She came offering a hug but wanting comfort. I sent her away.
Frustrated, I turned my fury into hacking away at the lilac bushes. They wouldn’t budge. There was absolutely no way those spindley branches were coming down. I flailed my axe in vain. I was using the wrong tool.
By this time, I was beyond rational thinking. I stomped into my backyard looking for a good stout tree. In the silence of the snow covered yard with the moon shining brightly, I looked up at the star filled sky and begged God for help. I didn’t get an answer. There was no startling revelation. I felt alone and confused and unloved, more upset than ever knowing that I had hurt my little girl too.
There in the black sky was the tiny formation of the Little Dipper. I went back into the house and brought my little one out and pointed out the Little Dipper and the Big Dipper. As she admired the stars, I realized that I would never stop fighting for my children, their right to a whole and complete family. Things didn’t improve overnight, over week, or even over a month. It was a start to a new phase, a new chapter, an intense painful chapter, our trial. This is where my journey begins.