Last week while traveling back from Washington, D.C. I came down with a pretty severe upper respiratory infection. During that time, I also had a difficult situation involving my daughter's biological mother, which has characterized much of my life.
Two things that have severely affected my life are sickness and conflict with my daughter's biological mother. As a child, I was sickly and regularly spent weeks in the hospital. To this day, friends and loved ones talk about my immune system, which I hate to say, hasn't always had my back. There were very few things I could count on growing up, but I could always count on me having an asthma attack at the worst time. I was an adventurous boy with the immune system of a nerd.
Being sickly cost me time and caused me to be teased a lot by my super athletic extended family. It forced me into submission over and over again. No matter how well things seemed to be going, it was always only a matter of time before an asthma attack immobilized me. Today, I am nowhere near as sickly as I used to be, but my immune system suffers regular trauma responses from those childhood years. It detects any foreign invaders and goes haywire, afraid of being dragged back to those former days.
I live with the beauty and brokenness of my body and my experience. Life often hits like that for me. I go to North Carolina to celebrate my uncle and aunt's wedding anniversary, and I come back with Covid. I travel to Washington, D.C., for a week and have a fantastic time with my coworkers across the country, soaring on the heights of all the upcoming possibilities only to be pulled to the depths of sickness. Another mountaintop meets another valley. My body signed up for another round of recovery. This is my life.
The other side? A complex relationship with my former college girlfriend. The person I mentioned in my previous post. A 14-year battle with short respites. Like sickness, the pain of this relationship seems to come in waves, but they crash more like they did when I was a child. Those waves would come hard and fast. The type that pulls you under and catches you in a rip current.
Broken promises, deceptive speech, and manipulative actions are all wrapped in disrespect. Waves of despair crash overhead, threatening to pull me under. It feels all too familiar.
Back to the story... After the birth of my beloved daughter, things didn't go well for her mother and me. Too much transpired. Too many lies. Too much deception. It's my story, and I will spare the details, but what was broken splintered to never be reunited. This led to the battles. Verbal battles, emotional battles, and custody battles–fought in the midst of a war that is currently waging.
At times, it's difficult to see the beauty in life. Almost impossible. But that's where my faith has sustained me. There is a passage of scripture that has defined my life for a while now, and it's Romans 5:3-5.
"And not only that, but we also glory in tribulations, knowing that tribulation produces perseverance; and perseverance, character; and character, hope. Now hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out in our hearts by the Holy Spirit who was given to us" (Romas 5:3-5, NKJV).
It often takes brokenness for us to see true beauty. Through being broken and squeezed, God reveals who we are becoming. Through adversity, I learn not to quit but to keep going. To keep trusting. To keep living.
My endurance is shaping my character. Character that can be trusted, like a well-worn bridge that stands the test of time. Teaching me to live honestly and openly, revealing my purpose. The purpose of helping others cross from where they are to where God is taking them.
This gives me hope that broken things can produce beauty. Hope that shines on the darkest days. Hope that points me back to a God that loves me and the people that love me.
This is my life, and it's being formed into a masterpiece.