I wasn't sure where to start this post. There is SO much to be said in the "Lord, change me" part of my last blog post that I felt I needed to touch on.
I decided to wait on that and continue on with the main "story" leading up to our victory, and then speak of what the Lord taught me through it all in the remaining blog entries.
Through the prayers, and heart surrender of "Lord, change me", the Lord was really able to change the way I responded to J, and all of the pain that I was holding in my heart. He was replacing bitterness, fear, and resentment with trust - trust in God's sovereignty. He was replacing a quick tongue with gentleness. He was replacing sarcasm with words of peace, and encouragement. A bad attitude was replaced with a sweet one.
My words were NEVER able to change J's heart. They never changed his mind, never helped him suddenly see the error of his ways, never made him agreeable to "my way". They never made him want to be a better man. In fact, it did the opposite. It made him dig deeper, stand his ground, and puff his chest even bigger! Any negative words out of my mouth could send him into a frenzy!! So, when it boiled down to it, what good were my words? No amount of crying, begging, pleading, pouting or shaming ever softened my husband's heart. Once God opened my eyes to this simple truth, he was able to replace my words with prayer. Over and over again when I wanted to speak "words of wisdom" into my husband's life - when I wanted to tell him the error of his ways - I decided it would be better to just shut up & pray.
Early months of 2012 were sweet. J had given his heart to Christ that February. Work was slow, and he seemed to be enjoying our new little country church. He was very faithful in his attendance, and I could tell through his prayers that he was growing in Christ. He didn't have a drink in months, and it seemed his anger was diminishing. It felt as though we were on the road to healing, it was nice to catch a breath of fresh air.
That summer, training started again. The first couple of trips were uneventful - he stayed in God's word, and refused to drink. But week after week of late nights, and long days, he fell short of staying in God's word. He was too tired, and often rushed to work straight out of bed. Training was hard, weakening his devotional life, and quiet time spent with God.
In a weak moment, he slipped during one of his trips that February 2013. Instead of "getting back up", the guilt overwhelmed him and he thought to himself, "why try"? He felt like a failure, and thought maybe this so called "christian life" wasn't right for a guy in his occupation. He didn't see how a trained warrior could do what he does, and still walk with God.
So he started drinking, again. He was on this trip for 7 weeks. It was actually 2 trips, with him being home for a whole 18 hours in between.
He decided that since he "couldn't" stop drinking, that there was no point in talking to me while he was away. He felt like a failure. He didn't talk to anyone in his life (with the exception of the men he was working with), avoiding everyone's texts/calls.
After 4 weeks of silence, I finally got a call from him. I think it was a pocket dial… I could hear loud music, and voices. I knew he was at a bar.
This time around, he belonged to God. When you are God's child, he loves you as his child, and like a loving father does, he disciplines his children when they are not doing right.
During this time in early 2013, my heart was becoming numb. Here I thought he had changed - his drinking stopped for months, and we were having so much fun as a family. His faithfulness in church was such a blessing, such an encouragement. I felt my life was becoming a "yo yo" - up and down so much that my head was starting to spin. During that time, I started to shut J off.
I continued trusting God, and praying for him. But instead of sleeping with my phone to make sure he was alright, I turned off the ringer and went to bed. I didn't call him during the day. I didnt try to encourage him, or let him know that I loved him. It was almost like I was going into survival mode. Mentally, I couldn't deal with his instability anymore.
March 25, 2013
He was driving home with his guys from Indiana. He drank the ENTIRE TRIP. He called me over and over and over again, playing me songs from his IPOD that reminded him of the friends that were lost - their favorite songs, and certain songs that brought back certain memories that they shared together.
By evening, I was over it. Instead of being "tolerant" and listening to his stupid songs on speaker phone, I simply told him, "J, you have GOT to stop feeling sorry for yourself. Doing this on every stupid trip will NOT bring ANYONE back. Their families have probably moved on, and healed more than you have! You are just using them as an EXCUSE to do as you please, and I'm over it, so stop playing me this stupid music!"
Well, remember the "shut up and pray"?? Yeah, I kinda forgot all about that at the time….
So…needless to say he didn't take that very well. You could even say he exploded. The quiet sulking he was doing on that drive home turned into rage.
He told one of the guys to just bring him to his house, because he didn't want to go home. I didn't care.
11:00 pm, my phone rings. I answered it. He was drunk as a skunk. He didn't humble himself enough to ask me to come get him, but he kept saying that he had a headache, and blah blah blah. So I finally swallowed my pride and asked if he wanted me to come and get him, to which he responded, "only if you want to". Oh yes, please let me. There's nothing more I'd like to do than leave my warm bed and get my drunk husband again.
So I got out of bed, shut my bedroom door, snatched my robe off the hanger, and as I put my slippers on I looked up at the ceiling and started literally shouting up to God, "It has been NINE LONG YEARS! I promised you I would hold on, and I HAVE!!! But Lord, please, HOW LONG AM I SUPPOSED TO DO THIS??? MY BABIES ARE GROWING UP (they are now 11, and 9) AND THEY NEED A GODLY FATHER!!!! Please, in Jesus name, let THIS be the night it STOPS. I don't care WHAT you have to do, just please, make this stop!!! Please, protect my babies, but as far as J is concerned, do what you need to do because I am TIRED!!!!" I was so loud, I can't believe I didn't wake the kids.
Knowing the state he was in, I couldn't decide if I should wake them, or let them sleep. I decided I would say a prayer, and let them stay in their little beds. It was a 15 minute drive to this man's house.
I prayed, yelled, and cried the entire drive there. Continuing to ask God to deliver us THIS NIGHT. It was my specific request.
When I pulled into the driveway, he and his "friend" came out. The were both SMILING with a "hey, let me introduce you to my wife" kind of look on their faces. This made me want to puke, so I rolled my eyes.
Again, remember the lesson God was teaching me in replacing my attitude with a good one? Yeah, I kind of forgot all about that one, too. So, because I didn't "smile" back at them, he became very angry. He got into the car, and threw his beer bottle into my windshield. He then proceeded to punch my window (hurting only his hand!!). He continued to yell the entire drive home, calling me ungrateful, and all sorts of words. Nothing he said made any sense. He saw a can of HIS OWN chew on the console, and asked if I was having an affair? He then accused me of having an affair with my 60 something year old African American neighbor. (Yeah, I'm SURE he chews the same brand of snuff as he does.)
We got through the front door. He went into the kitchen. I desperately wanted him to calm down so that he didn't wake the kids, so I asked him if he wanted something to eat? He continued talking about things that I had NO idea about…. lyrics of songs, etc… Then he walked over to the refrigerator. I saw him look up, and my heart started pounding… I knew what he wanted. He was looking for our 9mm pistol.
Sure enough, he reached for it. I calmly asked him to put it down. He just held it in his hands, and caressed the barrel.
He looked at me and said, "Do you know how much I love you??" Then he started walking towards me, gun in hand and pointed right at me. The man could barely stand, or walk straight, yet here he was walking towards me holding a loaded pistol, finger on the trigger.
I was backed up into the wall as he continued to talk, "I know I keep messing up. I don't know how to stop. All I ever wanted was for you to love me…"
In that moment all I could picture was his hand slipping, and that bullet going straight into my stomach. The sound would wake my children, who would find their mother dying at the hand of their father. Then J would have to live with that his entire life! I knew deep down in my heart how much that man loves me, and I didn't want it to end like this! I didn't want him, or our boys to have to live with that kind of pain.
I still had my winter coat on. I reached into my pocket, and dialed 911. I didn't speak, but I allowed the dispatcher to hear me continually say, "J, put the gun down, baby. J, put the gun down…"
I talked J down, and he handed me the gun. I quickly took the mag out (including the chambered round), and hid it in my plant.
He told me he loved me, then started down the hall to go to bed.
That's when I heard it. Another shot from the bedroom (we have another gun hidden in there). I didn't know what happened…. did my husband just shoot himself??? Is his head in tiny pieces all over our room??? Will my babies wake up to find this??? Did the bullet ricochet into the other bedrooms and hit one of my children?? I had 100 thoughts race through my head in under 1 second! I saw my eldest son peak around the corner. The gun shot woke him up. I gently said, "baby, go back to bed right now and don't get up. Everything is ok! Just please go back to bed."
In that same moment the dog started barking… everything happened so fast. I opened the door to let her out so that she didn't wake up my youngest son. Just as I did that, the police grabbed me. Apparently they were out there, and they heard the shot. They locked me into the back of their patrol car, and put my dog in the patrol car across the street. Seconds later, there were about 6 police cars in our little culdesac. I asked them, "please, let me out. My child is awake and is probably scared to death!!"
All I could do was beg God, "GOD, PLEASE DON'T LET HIM FIND HIS DADDY LIKE THAT!!!"
They refused to let me out, for the sake of my "safety". I asked them to please get my babies out of the house, and they refused to do that. They thought J perhaps barricaded himself, and would shoot the first person who walked through the door.
Moments later, the SWAT team showed up. They started putting "spikes" behind all of the cars in the culdesac, and loading their assault rifles. As I sat there, helpless, in the back of a squad car, I listened to the continuous sound of armed men in uniform clicking their magazines into place, and pointing their assault rifles straight at my little house. The house that held everyone I loved most in this entire world. Nothing on earth was more precious to me than what was inside that little house, and here they were pointing their guns, and surrounding it with attack dogs.
I didn't know if my husband was dead, or alive. If he were dead, surely our son would have found him by now. Surely my baby is awake, and scared. Will he walk out the door? Will he be accidentally shot?? How was this going to affect the rest of his little life??
If J was alive… he was drunk, and incapable of making responsible decisions! Would he react to the threat that was around him?? He was trained to react, how could he not?? Would he begin to shoot, and have them return fire on our home?? Our youngest child's bedroom window was right there in the front facing all of those assault weapons!!! If he came out, surely he would have his gun! He would be shot dead in our front yard - a yard that was once full of laughter and fun times. Would those sweet memories be replaced with tragedy?
Would I have to watch my husband be shot down? Was he already dead??
Those thoughts were racing through my mind a mile a minute. I did all I knew to do. PRAY.
I prayed out loud, in front of the officer in the front seat. She probably thought I was a little nut-so. I claimed the blood of Jesus over our home, over my family. I prayed that through the blood, no harm would come near to my family, and that this would end in peace. I thanked him for answering my prayer - that I knew in my heart that this was "the night it would all end", and this had to happen. I just kept praying over and over that only good would come from it, and that no harm would come near to my family. I begged God to be merciful to us!"
As I prayed, I felt God's peace. It was then I knew in my heart that my husband was not dead. I knew he was passed out. He almost passed out before they got there… surely he passed out, and that's why he is not responding to their calls on the loud speakers.
I continued to pray, "Lord, wake Jim up. Please protect him. Please wake him up and bring him out safely…" over and over. For four long hours I prayed.
By this time his Troop leader came. I asked the officer if she would please let me out to talk to him. She agreed. I tried to make small talk, but as soon as she turned her back I took off like lighting towards my house in hopes of waking my husband, and giving comfort to my son who I just KNEW was wide awake this entire time. I made it about 20 feet before I was tackled to the ground wearing my silk pajamas pants which were almost pulled to the ground! (I have it a nice try).
She put me back into the car, this time rolling down the window for me to talk to his troop leader.
I told them how certain I was that my husband was asleep. I was confident that was the reason he wasn't responding…. he didn't hear them!! Once he's out, he's out! Drunk, or not.
He encouraged them to allow him to go into the house to try to wake J up. He was afraid of how J would react if he felt threatened in any way. He was trained to well, kill, and he was good at it.
After about 5 hours, I hear some commotion. I couldn't see exactly what was happening, but it appeared as though the officers were scrambling around. That's when I could see him. It was J!!! He was tazed 3 times before being tackled to the ground. He even punched the attack dog straight in the head!
They handcuffed him, and let me out of the car. I ran up to him, and with pure relief I said his name. He responded with, "I hate you! Don't be here when I get back!" They put him the car, and drove him to the Naval Hospital.
The police and I walked through the house. It appeared that J shot his pistol straight into the dog bed. The thick padding prevented a ricochet from the concrete slab that our house is built on.
My baby came out of his room. As I had suspected, he was up the entire night. He heard everything… the speakers, the sound of the SWAT team surrounding his home. He obeyed, and stayed in his bed, God bless him. He too, prayed the entire time. God heard his prayers. Praise God my youngest slept through the whole thing!
I later learned that after a few hours had passed, he decided to go try to wake up his daddy. With a gentle voice, he touched his daddy's back and said, "daddy, there are men out there that want to talk to you". When J finally awoke, he grabbed his gun. (This is not unusual. I am married to a soldier who is also a pure country boy. I have NEVER known J to answer the door without his weapon concealed. At night, it is always in his hand if he knows someone is out there. It's just the way he is; very protective.)
With gun in hand, confused, he walked towards the door. He looked out, and didn't see anybody. He asked our son, "are you sure you heard something? Where's momma?". With the alcohol still in him, he didn't react as he usually would. He said, "Hang on, I have to pee". So, he laid the gun down on the desk, and used the bathroom. NOT REMEMBERING TO PICK THE GUN BACK UP, he proceeded right out the door, and that's when the officers detained him.
PRAISE GOD HE PUT DOWN THAT GUN!!! That in itself is NOTHING short of a miracle!!! Thank God for my little boy who had such wisdom!!!!
A very frightening night, but it was just what it took to get the help we so desperately needed . NOW his command could no longer shove this under the rug! It was right there in black and white! There is no hiding this, or there would be consequences!! The police were now in on it, and so was the hospital. THANK GOD!
GOD IS SO GOOD!!
J was due that May to go back to Afghanistan. But instead, we went to Bethesda Naval Hospital. They have a 5 week program there called NICOE. What a blessing!!! They specialize in Traumatic Brain Injuries, and PTSD. PHENOMENAL facility. Our boys went to stay with my parents for those 5 weeks. This was a TREMENDOUS time of healing between J and I. I will forever cherish the time we had there.
J was now in a leadership position, and desperately wanted to be overseas with the men he trained to fight. The thoughts of them going to war "without their leader" was a huge burden on him. What if something were to happen to one of them, and he was back here in the "cushy" states getting high end treatment? This was not sitting right with him.
Nevertheless, he did his best to cooperate with the doctors there, but in the back of his mind he was thinking, "I just need to get through this so that I can get back to my guys". There was little remorse for what happened. Little acknowledgment of the fact that he needed help. What happened just two short months ago was more of a distant memory, with little consequence.
We made friends with a young couple that we were staying with us in the Fisher House. They were in their early twenties. He was a young marine who at the age of twenty-two, had already seen his share of fighting. He had severe PTSD. During a thunderstorm one afternoon, we found him hiding in the stairwell, covering his ears as he rocked back and forth. It was heartbreaking.
During one of the therapy sessions, the men were asked to write a poem, draw a picture, or make a piece of art out of clay. They could also make a mask, which is what J chose. The young marine wrote a poem.
After class, the teacher pulled J aside and showed him the poem. The man wrote of bass fishing, with family memories, and days gone by… but ended the poem as a suicide note.
The teacher asked J to reach out to him that night in the Fisher House.
J and I asked the marine and his wife to join us for dinner. It was a beautiful facility, so we grilled outside, and sat around the quiet table under the gazebo.
After dinner, J and the marine went around the house to the large front stairs, and J had a talk with him. He told him that he read his poem. J is a great leader, and that quality stands out with him (which I'm sure is the reason he was asked by an almost stranger to help this young man).
The marine listened intently.
Later in our room, I asked J how it went. He told me it went really well; that the young man seemed very encouraged and eager to get back on track. I asked him what he said to him? J responded, "I just told him that he had to let his burdens go. That was the only way to heal. I told him that he didn't ever have to forget the things he'd been through; he wasn't supposed to just forget about the buddies he lost. He earned the right to mourn them. He earned the right to hurt. But, he had to use his hurt, his pain, and their losses to make him stronger, not weaker. Instead of allowing pain to break him, he has to find a way to make that pain mold him into a better man. I told him he needed to release that pain, that guilt, and those losses into God's hands, and from now on let God carry that burden. Find out how to use that pain for good - to help others that are hurting. He has seen firsthand how short life can be, and he needed to keep that at the front of his mind, and be thankful for his family. I told him he was blessed to have a woman that is sticking beside him through all of this, but that his wife and daughter needed him to be a man. He should allow experiences to develop character and integrity instead of hiding behind some label called PTSD. I told him he could lick this, that it doesn't have to be something that cripples him, or makes him weak. He doesn't need to hide from it either. He needs to embrace it all, and just find a way for it to make him stronger, and he can only do that if he first releases it to God, instead of trying to do it all alone."
"Hmmm….", I said, "looks as though you know exactly what to do then, J. Problem is, right now it's head knowledge with you. You know EVERYTHING to do, but that knowledge needs to make it's way down from your head, and into your heart."
He starred into my eyes for about 10 seconds, smiled, and then said, "hush". Yup, that's my hubby for you.
That was it. We prayed together that night, and God moved that knowledge from his head, into his heart.
The next morning he went to his meetings, and went through his testing not because he had to, but because HE WANTED to. He smiled. He joked. He reached out, and helped the other guys around him, pointing them to God the entire remainder of our stay.
He was diagnosed with severe PTSD, and five TBI's. The scans show black shadows all over his brain that even the best Neurologist cannot explain. They do not know what this means for his future.
God was faithful to J. He healed his heart, and allowed him to return to his men after his stay at NICOE. J was able to lead those men in physical battle as he trained them to do, but something even greater happened. He shared his experience. He told them all GOD delivered him from, and told them that God could do that for them, too. He named every mission after a book of the Bible, and even read a verse to go with it. He had those guys searching through God's word trying to find the next verse they could use for their next op. Before the mission, J lead them in prayer. They even had Bible verses printed out and posted on their doors.
Verses such as Psalms 44:5 became their theme verse:
"Through thee will we push down our enemies: through thy name will we tread them under that rise up against us."
Hey, they were verses, and it caused these men to search scripture. Seeds were planted!
J found joy in talking about God. It was liberating to no longer be afraid of looking "weak" by talking of his deliverer! Yes, even the bravest of men need to be delivered!
He no longer felt it was "weak" to say NO to liquor.
He finally understood that the very best way to lead these men was by living a life of surrender - giving complete control of his life, his desires and his deepest needs, over to God.
It has been 3 years since our stay at NICOE. J is a different man. He has not TOUCHED any alcohol. God took his desire away! He reads his Bible EVERY SINGLE DAY, sometimes more than once. He prays with the boys, and continually points them to Christ.
He has been faithful in prayer meetings, as well as other church activities, and even looks forward to them! His whole demeanor has changed; he looks 10 years younger.
His personality has changed forever. Living life with PTSD, and five TBIs can sometimes be very challenging for him, and for those around him.
Three of the five brain lesions are in the area in his brain that effect his coping skills. The impact of his injuries also include difficulties with attention, his memory, his ability to concentrate. He is easily distracted, and is sometimes slow in processing information. Sometimes he will pause when he is speaking, but is not finished (this can be frustrating for the listener, i.e. his wife). Sometimes he will be talking then will suddenly remember something. He will completely stop the conversation and get up to do the thing he just remembered.
He loses his balance easy. He has night sweats unlike anything I have ever seen, yet the doctors have no idea why. (they are actually very concerned about this, and are currently trying to find help for it). He sometimes has blurred vision, or double vision and is very sensitive to the sunlight. He also gets extreme hot flashes that menopausal women can't hold a candle to!
He is often irritable, lacks motivation, can sometime be aggressive. His tones are sometimes very harsh without even realizing it.
Every so often he will slip into a depression. Praise God it only lasts for a couple of days before he forces himself to snap out of it. He is extremely strong willed, and in cases like this I am extremely thankful for that hard head of his.
He suffers from severe headaches EVERY SINGLE DAY. There is not a day that goes by that his head is not hurting.
Even with all his challenges, he was the only man who left that facility with no pills. When others would ask why he wouldn't accept the pills, he replied, "Because I found out that the only pill I really need is the GOSpill".
His symptoms haven't miraculously disappeared. He still has the struggles that TBI brings. The thing that is different, is that he has learned that he must turn them over to God daily. He will sometimes be overwhelmed with feelings of frustration, and sometimes anger, but now he is able to recognize them quickly and surrender them over to God. When he is overwhelmed, stressed, angry or irritable, you will find him at the kitchen table having "quiet time" with his Bible in front of him. No, his symptoms aren't gone, but he now knows what to do with them!
I praise GOD for all he has done! I wouldn't change a thing. God has been faithful to us. He has kept his promises! He has heard the cries of our heart. J and I both are now able to share what God has done for us, and allowed us to encourage others who may be going through similar situations.
Though this, J has had several opportunities to speak in churches nationwide. He has been able to give testimony of God's grace, patience, healing and forgiveness! It doesn't matter what you've done, God can and will deliver you if you call on HIM!
I too, have had several speaking engagements, sharing with others of the power of prayer, God's mercy, and healing.
J feels a strong call to the ministry once his time in the military is over. We don't know what exactly that will entail, but we are SO excited to see what he has in store for us!
God has taught us SO much, and is still teaching us today. I can't wait to share ALL that he has done in our hearts; that's the most exciting part, and I hate to stop here! But, this has probably been the longest post thus far.
So, until next time, I will just leave you with this verse:
"My brethren, count it all joy when you fall into diverse temptations (trials of many kinds); knowing this, that the trying of your faith worketh patience (the testing of your faith produces perseverance). But let patience have her perfect (complete) work, that ye may be perfect in entire, wanting nothing (mature, complete). If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God that giveth to all men liberally… but let him ask in FAITH, nothing wavering." James 1:2-6a
"The christians that God can use the most are those whom God has bruised the most."
At some point, we all become bruised. The amount of true growth in our christian walk is determined with what you do with that bruising. Will you become bitter, or better?
