When we encounter the most severe and painful trials, the ones that bring us to our knees; the ones that take away our joy and maybe even our will to live for a time, it is hard to see a future that holds happiness or peace. There are certain kinds of adversity that seem to strip away almost everything you thought was good in your life, everything you’ve ever worked for or hoped for. They seem to take away the very essence of who you are. This trial, more often than not, is one you did not choose. A trial you did not deserve or want. This adversity can put you in the real and proverbial fetal position, trying to make sense of what has happened to your life and what it could possibly look like in the future. You are constantly trying to figure out what to do now or whom to trust.
I have a vivid memory of the morning after my husband told me of his affair (or at this point it was a very carefully orchestrated skeleton version of it). I crawled out of bed before dawn after a sleepless and painful night in order to get my kids ready for school (oh, how bizarre routine seemed!). I remember clearly this moment: being in the shower, suddenly falling on my knees, and pressing against the back wall of the shower for support and just wailing. Sobbing and sobbing. I have never felt heartache and deep sorrow like that. I couldn’t even wrap my mind around it yet. I was still in a state of shock, and the grief was raw. My husband, in what was typical for him and a person in his state of mind, had left right after his disclosure. He had vomited out the lightest version as possible of what he’d done and then picked up his suitcase and left for his business trip. That was his way of dealing with it. That’s who he was at the time. I was in such a state of shock that I didn’t even realize it crazy for him to leave like that or to advocate for myself. I just stood in the hallway, watched the front door close, and then out of the window saw him pull out of our driveway and turn onto the road. I hadn’t even thought to ask him who it was. I hadn’t really spoken. I noticed in some sort of out-of-body way that my cheeks were wet. It all happened in the space of five minutes. Writing this now I am again amazed with how bizarre it was, but that my dear friends, is what a long time of deception will do to you. Everything becomes bizarre.
Here is what I want you to know. I wish someone could have told me at the time that this moment –while excruciatingly painful– would not only pass, but that with time and hard work I would become a stronger, more empowered woman*. Because this is important. What I want you to know is that no matter how ugly something is, how unfair, how undeserved, how life-changing your adversity is, God can take something ugly and out of it find beauty. No matter what the outcome is, whether you stay with your spouse or not, the something beautiful will come out of you. And if they allow it, your spouse as well. While in the beginning I was barely limping through each day, when I look back I am in awe at how many opportunities to find healing have presented themselves to me. And not just opportunities to heal, but to be molded into someone I never thought possible. What amazes me over and over again about the love of the Savior is that He doesn’t just comfort you, he can take something ugly and help you to create beauty. He will empower you. And that’s something He helped me to realize at one point. I understood I couldn’t do anything about the painful and heavy past. But I did know that the future was mine. It belonged to me. My life may have been shattered, but I began to realize that with the help of the Savior I had the ability to pick up the pieces and rebuild myself into whatever I wanted to be. You can too. Your future is yours. You get to choose what it looks like and whether you will be happy or not. These are not bumper sticker platitudes. These, I have found, are truths.
Let me be clear. I would never say that I am thankful that this happened to me. I am not. I would not wish it on any human being. What I will say is that I am thankful for severe adversity. Without it, I would not be the woman I am today. I am not yet where I hope to be, but I can definitely see that I am on the way.
There is a sign in my home that reads: Just when the caterpillar thought the world had ended, it became a butterfly. It is a popular saying lately, but one that understandably has deep meaning for me. When I taught school we would often have the caterpillar habitats in the Spring. I would tell my students how the caterpillar basically was broken down and dissolved into goo inside it’s cocoon. When the time was right, it emerged as a beautiful butterfly. At the time, I had no idea how personal the image of this process would be for me.
And the girl above? That ghost of me? Oh, she does not even know yet what ugly truths are coming her way. She doesn’t even have the imagination necessary to know this is just the beginning. I would later find out that while they may have felt unique to me, these signs and symptoms of an affair were actually quite common.
But what I also want to tell her (and you) is that healing is possible. Joy is possible. The refiner’s fire is a real thing. It is not comfortable in any way, but it will be worth it. Allow the Lord to comfort you, strengthen you, and also to refine you. You will not even be able to imagine the beauty He will bring out of you.
*Actually, “someone” did tell me that. A week later I had an incredibly beautiful blessing that basically promised me this exact thing.
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