By Sally Spalding @ Jesus-and-Juice.com
“I SAT THERE IN DESPAIR, MY SPIRIT DRAINING AWAY, MY HEART HEAVY, LIKE LEAD” PSALM 143:4
Valentine’s Day was one for the books. It was the 10th anniversary of Scott and my first date. We celebrated by going on a date to hot yoga and then to dinner, where he had made personalized gifts for me, including a pillow that had the date of our first Valentines together. We sat around the table and asked our kids what made them feel loved and how they showed love to others. We all laughed together, talked together, had the perfect night.
The next morning, as every morning, Scott and I reviewed our plans for the day. He had spent the morning texting his friends about their upcoming poker night and printing out plans for a basketball team he was preparing to coach. He was happy, lighthearted, ready for the day. He kissed me goodbye with an “I love you”. “I love you more…” I said. That was the last time I saw him alive.
An unfortunate chain of events would happen that day that led to a panic filled and sorrowful Scott, and as the day unfolded, he went missing. Hours of driving around looking for him, calling every friend and family member in desperation that he was with them, led to dead ends. My heart filled with anxiety as our older children had now realized that their dad hadn’t come home for the night, and we banned together as we clung to our phones in hopes we would hear from him any minute. We tried our best to be hopeful, but this was too out of character for Scott. The terror in all our eyes suggested we knew something was incredibly wrong.
A few of my dear friends arrived at my door to sit with me that night and pray with me. They did their best to convince me that he would walk in that door any minute and that it was all a big misunderstanding. I made my way to my room and made one last phone call to Scott. I sobbed and begged for his return…a message that would forever go unheard.
An hour later, there was a pounding on my bedroom door from my friend Carrie. Someone was at my front door knocking. By the time I reached the top of the stairs, I could see the light on the front porch and two officers standing together. I could barely open the door, as my whole body shook, and my heart was beating out of my chest. “Lord, please let this be good news. Please let them say he’s safe. That everything is going to be ok.”
“Mrs. Spalding, is there somewhere you can sit down? We found your husband. He is deceased.”
My knees hit the floor. Sobs I didn’t recognize came raging from my body. The hands of my friend Carrie reached for me, sobbed with me. And at that moment, our 17-year-old son was standing over me, reality hitting him like a ton of bricks as he fought the truth. We woke our 14-year-old up with the worst news one could ever deliver, and we huddled together in agony for what felt like hours. Our hearts shattered in a million pieces. By the grace of God, my 3- and 5-year-old remained sleeping peacefully upstairs in their beds, unaware that when they would rise, their lives were forever changed.
One by one, friends and pastors of our church showed up and sat with me on the kitchen floor, laying hands on me, praying over me, crying with me. I will never forget these friends for as long as I live, as we are now bonded through these moments like a tattoo. Nor will I ever forget the moment my parents and sister arrived or having to make the call to Scotts parents and brother. Or telling my children that their daddy was never coming home again. Excruciating. Agonizing. Shattering. Life altering…
The days and weeks to follow were a blur at best and I can barely recall anything that went on then. We were in survival mode. The kind where every waking moment felt like eternity. Life now felt so long, so painful, so daunting and hopeless. How would I ever be able to raise my kids with any joy in their hearts? How will we ever go on? How can I even survive this day? This was just too much, Lord. This was the icing on the cake. I had endured enough in my short 38 years and just when I was living my best life with every blessing I could think of, with everything I had ever prayed for…you broke me. You stole my joy. You ripped the rug out from under me. Are you finding this funny, Lord? Did I do something horrible to deserve such a story? My children ultimately saved me. Had it not been for them, I don’t know what I would have done. In my mind, this life was just too hard. But in my heart, something else was happening…
The next morning, as every morning, Scott and I reviewed our plans for the day. He had spent the morning texting his friends about their upcoming poker night and printing out plans for a basketball team he was preparing to coach. He was happy, lighthearted, ready for the day. He kissed me goodbye with an “I love you”. “I love you more…” I said. That was the last time I saw him alive.
An unfortunate chain of events would happen that day that led to a panic filled and sorrowful Scott, and as the day unfolded, he went missing. Hours of driving around looking for him, calling every friend and family member in desperation that he was with them, led to dead ends. My heart filled with anxiety as our older children had now realized that their dad hadn’t come home for the night, and we banned together as we clung to our phones in hopes we would hear from him any minute. We tried our best to be hopeful, but this was too out of character for Scott. The terror in all our eyes suggested we knew something was incredibly wrong.
A few of my dear friends arrived at my door to sit with me that night and pray with me. They did their best to convince me that he would walk in that door any minute and that it was all a big misunderstanding. I made my way to my room and made one last phone call to Scott. I sobbed and begged for his return…a message that would forever go unheard.
An hour later, there was a pounding on my bedroom door from my friend Carrie. Someone was at my front door knocking. By the time I reached the top of the stairs, I could see the light on the front porch and two officers standing together. I could barely open the door, as my whole body shook, and my heart was beating out of my chest. “Lord, please let this be good news. Please let them say he’s safe. That everything is going to be ok.”
“Mrs. Spalding, is there somewhere you can sit down? We found your husband. He is deceased.”
My knees hit the floor. Sobs I didn’t recognize came raging from my body. The hands of my friend Carrie reached for me, sobbed with me. And at that moment, our 17-year-old son was standing over me, reality hitting him like a ton of bricks as he fought the truth. We woke our 14-year-old up with the worst news one could ever deliver, and we huddled together in agony for what felt like hours. Our hearts shattered in a million pieces. By the grace of God, my 3- and 5-year-old remained sleeping peacefully upstairs in their beds, unaware that when they would rise, their lives were forever changed.
One by one, friends and pastors of our church showed up and sat with me on the kitchen floor, laying hands on me, praying over me, crying with me. I will never forget these friends for as long as I live, as we are now bonded through these moments like a tattoo. Nor will I ever forget the moment my parents and sister arrived or having to make the call to Scotts parents and brother. Or telling my children that their daddy was never coming home again. Excruciating. Agonizing. Shattering. Life altering…
The days and weeks to follow were a blur at best and I can barely recall anything that went on then. We were in survival mode. The kind where every waking moment felt like eternity. Life now felt so long, so painful, so daunting and hopeless. How would I ever be able to raise my kids with any joy in their hearts? How will we ever go on? How can I even survive this day? This was just too much, Lord. This was the icing on the cake. I had endured enough in my short 38 years and just when I was living my best life with every blessing I could think of, with everything I had ever prayed for…you broke me. You stole my joy. You ripped the rug out from under me. Are you finding this funny, Lord? Did I do something horrible to deserve such a story? My children ultimately saved me. Had it not been for them, I don’t know what I would have done. In my mind, this life was just too hard. But in my heart, something else was happening…
“I SAT THERE IN DESPAIR, MY SPIRIT DRAINING AWAY, MY HEART HEAVY, LIKE LEAD” PSALM 143:4
I spent a good majority of my time in prayer, either begging for God to return and take us all home, and if not, PLEASE bring a peace that surpasses all understanding. Heal every piece of our broken hearts, calm every fear inside of us, turn off the lies in our heads, wrap us in protection and redeem our lives. There were days that I didn’t even have the words of what to pray for anymore. I had no energy left, was too weak to put my thoughts together. There were also days where we had to wage war with the devil and remind him to slink back to the hell he belongs in. Yet, most of my days were spent quiet and weeping, clothing my kids for school and getting them out the door, answering the door to the blessed people dropping of nightly meals, doing the bath time and bedtime routine where my littles would pray for Jesus to take care of their daddy, as I would slip back to my room and sob into Scotts cologned sweatshirt so they couldn’t hear me. I did all of this like a drone. No joy in my heart, a fake smile on my face, battling out the full spectrum of emotions going on in my mind.
Mania took over every space of my heart; anger, despair, worry, and back to anger. I spent the summer escaping my thoughts and blasting myself into busy mode, with a move, a home build, house guests, work and even dusted off my old 21-year-old party girl self and hid behind her for a while. All the while, God was also busy at work. He was chipping away at the plaque around my heart and using fire to refine it. He knew what he needed to do and ever so gently, nudged me forward to start living again. I know it was for me, for my children, but its truly for Him and for his glory. The next morning, as every morning, Scott and I reviewed our plans for the day. He had spent the morning texting his friends about their upcoming poker night and printing out plans for a basketball team he was preparing to coach. He was happy, lighthearted, ready for the day. He kissed me goodbye with an “I love you”. “I love you more…” I said. That was the last time I saw him alive. An unfortunate chain of events would happen that day that led to a panic filled and sorrowful Scott, and as the day unfolded, he went missing. Hours of driving around looking for him, calling every friend and family member in desperation that he was with them, led to dead ends. My heart filled with anxiety as our older children had now realized that their dad hadn’t come home for the night, and we banned together as we clung to our phones in hopes we would hear from him any minute. We tried our best to be hopeful, but this was too out of character for Scott. The terror in all our eyes suggested we knew something was incredibly wrong. A few of my dear friends arrived at my door to sit with me that night and pray with me. They did their best to convince me that he would walk in that door any minute and that it was all a big misunderstanding. I made my way to my room and made one last phone call to Scott. I sobbed and begged for his return…a message that would forever go unheard. An hour later, there was a pounding on my bedroom door from my friend Carrie. Someone was at my front door knocking. By the time I reached the top of the stairs, I could see the light on the front porch and two officers standing together. I could barely open the door, as my whole body shook, and my heart was beating out of my chest. “Lord, please let this be good news. Please let them say he’s safe. That everything is going to be ok.” “Mrs. Spalding, is there somewhere you can sit down? We found your husband. He is deceased.” My knees hit the floor. Sobs I didn’t recognize came raging from my body. The hands of my friend Carrie reached for me, sobbed with me. And at that moment, our 17-year-old son was standing over me, reality hitting him like a ton of bricks as he fought the truth. We woke our 14-year-old up with the worst news one could ever deliver, and we huddled together in agony for what felt like hours. Our hearts shattered in a million pieces. By the grace of God, my 3- and 5-year-old remained sleeping peacefully upstairs in their beds, unaware that when they would rise, their lives were forever changed. One by one, friends and pastors of our church showed up and sat with me on the kitchen floor, laying hands on me, praying over me, crying with me. I will never forget these friends for as long as I live, as we are now bonded through these moments like a tattoo. Nor will I ever forget the moment my parents and sister arrived or having to make the call to Scotts parents and brother. Or telling my children that their daddy was never coming home again. Excruciating. Agonizing. Shattering. Life altering… The days and weeks to follow were a blur at best and I can barely recall anything that went on then. We were in survival mode. The kind where every waking moment felt like eternity. Life now felt so long, so painful, so daunting and hopeless. How would I ever be able to raise my kids with any joy in their hearts? How will we ever go on? How can I even survive this day? This was just too much, Lord. This was the icing on the cake. I had endured enough in my short 38 years and just when I was living my best life with every blessing I could think of, with everything I had ever prayed for…you broke me. You stole my joy. You ripped the rug out from under me. Are you finding this funny, Lord? Did I do something horrible to deserve such a story? My children ultimately saved me. Had it not been for them, I don’t know what I would have done. In my mind, this life was just too hard. But in my heart, something else was happening…
Mania took over every space of my heart; anger, despair, worry, and back to anger. I spent the summer escaping my thoughts and blasting myself into busy mode, with a move, a home build, house guests, work and even dusted off my old 21-year-old party girl self and hid behind her for a while. All the while, God was also busy at work. He was chipping away at the plaque around my heart and using fire to refine it. He knew what he needed to do and ever so gently, nudged me forward to start living again. I know it was for me, for my children, but its truly for Him and for his glory. The next morning, as every morning, Scott and I reviewed our plans for the day. He had spent the morning texting his friends about their upcoming poker night and printing out plans for a basketball team he was preparing to coach. He was happy, lighthearted, ready for the day. He kissed me goodbye with an “I love you”. “I love you more…” I said. That was the last time I saw him alive. An unfortunate chain of events would happen that day that led to a panic filled and sorrowful Scott, and as the day unfolded, he went missing. Hours of driving around looking for him, calling every friend and family member in desperation that he was with them, led to dead ends. My heart filled with anxiety as our older children had now realized that their dad hadn’t come home for the night, and we banned together as we clung to our phones in hopes we would hear from him any minute. We tried our best to be hopeful, but this was too out of character for Scott. The terror in all our eyes suggested we knew something was incredibly wrong. A few of my dear friends arrived at my door to sit with me that night and pray with me. They did their best to convince me that he would walk in that door any minute and that it was all a big misunderstanding. I made my way to my room and made one last phone call to Scott. I sobbed and begged for his return…a message that would forever go unheard. An hour later, there was a pounding on my bedroom door from my friend Carrie. Someone was at my front door knocking. By the time I reached the top of the stairs, I could see the light on the front porch and two officers standing together. I could barely open the door, as my whole body shook, and my heart was beating out of my chest. “Lord, please let this be good news. Please let them say he’s safe. That everything is going to be ok.” “Mrs. Spalding, is there somewhere you can sit down? We found your husband. He is deceased.” My knees hit the floor. Sobs I didn’t recognize came raging from my body. The hands of my friend Carrie reached for me, sobbed with me. And at that moment, our 17-year-old son was standing over me, reality hitting him like a ton of bricks as he fought the truth. We woke our 14-year-old up with the worst news one could ever deliver, and we huddled together in agony for what felt like hours. Our hearts shattered in a million pieces. By the grace of God, my 3- and 5-year-old remained sleeping peacefully upstairs in their beds, unaware that when they would rise, their lives were forever changed. One by one, friends and pastors of our church showed up and sat with me on the kitchen floor, laying hands on me, praying over me, crying with me. I will never forget these friends for as long as I live, as we are now bonded through these moments like a tattoo. Nor will I ever forget the moment my parents and sister arrived or having to make the call to Scotts parents and brother. Or telling my children that their daddy was never coming home again. Excruciating. Agonizing. Shattering. Life altering… The days and weeks to follow were a blur at best and I can barely recall anything that went on then. We were in survival mode. The kind where every waking moment felt like eternity. Life now felt so long, so painful, so daunting and hopeless. How would I ever be able to raise my kids with any joy in their hearts? How will we ever go on? How can I even survive this day? This was just too much, Lord. This was the icing on the cake. I had endured enough in my short 38 years and just when I was living my best life with every blessing I could think of, with everything I had ever prayed for…you broke me. You stole my joy. You ripped the rug out from under me. Are you finding this funny, Lord? Did I do something horrible to deserve such a story? My children ultimately saved me. Had it not been for them, I don’t know what I would have done. In my mind, this life was just too hard. But in my heart, something else was happening…
“HE WILL WIPE AWAY EVERY TEAR FROM THEIR EYES, AND DEATH SHALL BE NO MORE, NEITHER SHALL THEIR BE MOURNING, NOR CRYING, NOR PAIN ANYMORE, FOR THE FORMER THINGS HAVE PASSED AWAY” REVELATION 21:4
I loved Scott with all my heart. In so many ways, he showed us his love and adoration. He was a one-of-a-kind father who was so proud of each of his children and loved them with all his might. He was a doting husband who had the most tender of hearts. The love he had for his friends and family was so evident and he lived his life to show that to everyone he knew. But he was conflicted inside. Torn apart by his thoughts and transgressions and ultimately surrendered to them. Not one of us knew what was going on inside his mind and never in a million years would have thought he could end his own life. Never. Yet he made the decision to be with Jesus that day, a decision I will spend the rest of my life not making sense of. A decision that has brought the most pain a family could suffer. There has been destruction, depression, division, sadness, anger, resentment, betrayal, and more buckets of tears than I could even count.
Yet, just when I thought the Devil had won that fateful night, God said, “NOT ON MY WATCH!” and he reminded me of his power and might. He reminded me that our stories are NOT over. That he would use my voice to proclaim his and that he would turn ashes into beauty. I knew, going forward, that I was called to share this story for His glory. That in some way, this tragedy would speak to someone who needed hope, to someone who needed to rethink the end of their life, to someone in the pit of darkness needing light, to the one who doesn’t even see the tragedy coming yet. That the Lord will ALWAYS be with you in every waking moment of your life. “Use your words” he said. Whether its writing, singing, speaking…I have been using it all if it means his name will be glorified.
My heart breaks for Scott and what tortured him inside, what his final hours had to have been like. I can barely go there, as it brings too much grief. But I know God has Scott wrapped in his arms, finally at peace, never to shed another tear. I also know I will see him again someday, which brings an immense amount of comfort to my aching heart and to the hearts of my children. We spend time pouring over pictures, videos (thank God for these) and memories of Scott and will forever keep him alive in our stories and our hearts. And yet, we will go forward boldly, living fully, being grateful each day and embracing all of the love that surrounds us.
We were given the most wonderful family, friends, church body and community anyone could ask for. We have been covered in the blessings of love, support, help, prayer and encouragement from day one and there isn’t a day that goes by that I am not in full gratitude and awe of it and my heart’s desire is to try and be even half as giving to these fine people as they have been to us.
To summarize this long narrative, we have lived a tragedy I wouldn’t wish on anyone. We have experienced a loss of someone we held the most near, dear and precious. We turned our hearts and our eyes toward Jesus, and he is rebuilding our foundation as we speak. He has truly given me the peace that surpasses ALL understanding.
You see, on February 15th, I fell into Gods arms, and he caught me, and will never let go…
Friend, do you need this peace? Do you seek to be restored and rebuilt? Are you waging war with the enemy who seeks to destroy you and lie to you that you are without hope? You’re not alone…join me in this…God has confirmed that the enemy will NEVER win. Ever. There is purpose even in our most unanswered questions and there is so much more to our stories if we let God WIN in our hearts and minds every blessed second of the day. Breathe it in…. peace. Healing. Restoration. Hope.
Pray with me.
Yet, just when I thought the Devil had won that fateful night, God said, “NOT ON MY WATCH!” and he reminded me of his power and might. He reminded me that our stories are NOT over. That he would use my voice to proclaim his and that he would turn ashes into beauty. I knew, going forward, that I was called to share this story for His glory. That in some way, this tragedy would speak to someone who needed hope, to someone who needed to rethink the end of their life, to someone in the pit of darkness needing light, to the one who doesn’t even see the tragedy coming yet. That the Lord will ALWAYS be with you in every waking moment of your life. “Use your words” he said. Whether its writing, singing, speaking…I have been using it all if it means his name will be glorified.
My heart breaks for Scott and what tortured him inside, what his final hours had to have been like. I can barely go there, as it brings too much grief. But I know God has Scott wrapped in his arms, finally at peace, never to shed another tear. I also know I will see him again someday, which brings an immense amount of comfort to my aching heart and to the hearts of my children. We spend time pouring over pictures, videos (thank God for these) and memories of Scott and will forever keep him alive in our stories and our hearts. And yet, we will go forward boldly, living fully, being grateful each day and embracing all of the love that surrounds us.
We were given the most wonderful family, friends, church body and community anyone could ask for. We have been covered in the blessings of love, support, help, prayer and encouragement from day one and there isn’t a day that goes by that I am not in full gratitude and awe of it and my heart’s desire is to try and be even half as giving to these fine people as they have been to us.
To summarize this long narrative, we have lived a tragedy I wouldn’t wish on anyone. We have experienced a loss of someone we held the most near, dear and precious. We turned our hearts and our eyes toward Jesus, and he is rebuilding our foundation as we speak. He has truly given me the peace that surpasses ALL understanding.
You see, on February 15th, I fell into Gods arms, and he caught me, and will never let go…
Friend, do you need this peace? Do you seek to be restored and rebuilt? Are you waging war with the enemy who seeks to destroy you and lie to you that you are without hope? You’re not alone…join me in this…God has confirmed that the enemy will NEVER win. Ever. There is purpose even in our most unanswered questions and there is so much more to our stories if we let God WIN in our hearts and minds every blessed second of the day. Breathe it in…. peace. Healing. Restoration. Hope.
Pray with me.
FATHER GOD,
THANK YOU FOR BEING OUR CREATOR. OUR MASTER. OUR HEALER.
LORD, WE HAVE SO MANY QUESTIONS, SO MANY PRAYERS WE CRY OUT TO YOU THAT WE CAN’T UNDERSTAND. TIMES WHERE WE CAN’T SEE HOW WE WILL MAKE IT ANOTHER DAY. THIS WORLD IS HARD, LORD. THERE IS SO MUCH DEVASTATION AND SUFFERING. YOU REMIND US THAT THERE IS AN END TO THAT SOMEDAY. THAT THERE WILL BE NO MORE SUFFERING. NO MORE MOURNING. THANK YOU FOR THAT, JESUS.
IN THE MEANTIME, SET US APART WITH YOUR TRUTH AND WISDOM SO THAT THIS WORLD AND ITS TROUBLES WILL NOT BECOME THE MASTERS TO OUR MINDS. POUR YOUR WORDS DIRECTLY INTO OUR HEARTS SO THAT IT SPILLS OUT OF US AND BRINGS GLORY TO YOU.
BRING US THE PEACE THAT ONLY COMES FROM YOU AND TAKE ANY DOUBTS WE HAVE OF YOUR GOODNESS AND REPLACE THEM WITH HOPE FOR OUR FUTURE. THANK YOU FOR LOVING US SO MUCH THAT YOU CAN AND WILL TURN ASHES INTO BEAUTY.
IN YOU NAME, JESUS,
AMEN
