August 1, 1992
David Cosand married Hope Harrison. For better. For worse…
August 1, 2011
I woke up that morning unaware of what would come. Where life would swing. I had caught a glimpse of approaching clouds, but I never expected the storm.
The end that was just beginning.
August 1, 2012
What a difference a year can make.
Today is my… I mean, today would be my… I mean, twenty years ago today, I married Hope. Right now, as I write this post, it is 7pm…twenty years ago right now we were starting the wedding ceremony.
I remember, so clearly, the nerves I felt clanging around inside my stomach…the fears buzzing inside my head…the love pounding deep in my chest. Nerves and fears, sure, but not doubt. I knew that God had shown His hand of mercy and done what seemed like an impossible thing to my insecure young mind: He had convinced a beautiful woman that she loved me and wanted to say “I do…” while looking into my eyes and holding my hands.
Twenty years is a long time. A longer marriage than many people get to experience. I am a remarkably blessed man to have been given the gift of so many years with my wife.
I woke up this morning with a mixed bag of feelings. Sadness, lingering bewilderment, hopefulness, acceptance… The past month and a half has found me coming to a place of forgiveness and healing. I’m no longer seeing myself as a victim and I’ve stopped blaming my wife for everything that has transpired since last August.
I rolled out of bed, dressed, hopped on my bike and rode to Gold Hill for breakfast…a ride with lots of inclines that I attempted and abandoned a couple weeks ago. It was more than I could handle then.
I made it today.
It’s something of a metaphor, I suppose. Obstacles that seem insurmountable…burdens that seem uncarriable…heartaches that seem unsurvivable… In time, with some healing, they can be overcome.
Grace is a remarkable thing. It allows me to breathe and think and feel and hope and try again. It shows me that, in the middle of the worst storm of my life, I have a God who never stops loving me, never fails to provide for me, never ceases to be faithful. It shows me that, for all my feelings of abandonment, I have family and friends who have shown me their best by caring and encouraging and listening and, sometimes, crying right along with me.
I cried today. Riding back home from my previously failed cycling target, as I climbed hills I couldn’t have ascended even last week, the emotion hit me. It started in a prayer, and became a release of pain and sadness and disappointment. I let it out. Being alone in an open space can be cathartic…and I let it out.
After the tears, there was silence. After the silence, there was a simple “Thank you…”, whispered to my Creator. My Healer. My Giver of new chances.
I truly have no idea what August 1, 2013 will bring me. I have no idea where I will be or how my life will look or what state my relationship with the woman I married two decades ago will be in. I do know one thing, though. I know that God will still be in control and He will still be faithful.
And some of the obstacles and burdens and heartaches that still seem so difficult to weather right now, will be pushed aside by Mercy.
That is something to be looked forward to…and celebrated.
The song that I was listening to as I climbed those hills and began to cry held a lyric that spoke volumes to me:
You’re breathing in
The highs and lows
We call it living
Don’t let go
Don’t give up hope
All is forgiven
All is not lost
All is not lost
Become who you are
It happens once in a lifetime
In this needle and haystack life
I found miracles there in your eyes
It’s no accident we’re here tonight
We are once in a lifetime