Here's what I wrote. (My favorite part is at the very end. In case you want to skip there, it's in bold print. ...Brandon thinks that needs to be in a song. I don't have a clue what that would look like, but I think I'm game. Jesus makes some pretty neat things out of dust. I can't wait to see what he makes out of a few guitar strings and a wobbly voice.
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I had a love hate relationship with Blessings when it came out. On one hand it validated the suffering I was going through and spoke of a future and a hope. On the other hand it was a daily reminder that I had to accept...and even embrace the deepest pain I've ever experienced.
Even though the melody is lilting, I won't sing the song lightly or readily. I know how deep my suffering was, how stinging the raindrops were day after day after day.
It's taken 5 years for me to experience the redemption power in our Creator's ability and passion of creating beauty from ashes.
To me the song is a sober truth song, as sober as a beheading.
You see my husband (best friend / prayer partner / encourager / protector) lost his job the week he turned 40. That same week his grandfather (hero / buddy) passed away. Kip went into a depression that he thought only alcohol could provide relief & the abuse I suffered was hard to swallow.
We separated for 7 months during therapy and even moved back in together. But the second honeymoon was short lived. I actually hadn't known that he had started drinking. The separation relaxed him because he no longer tried to hide it. As we confronted the drinking in counseling it became clear that he was holding firm to his idol. I was forced to leave home again. But this time was different. I didn't leave to save our marriage, I had to leave to save my life.
Even though he stalked me for months after I moved out, his rage turned back on himself. Within a year he was hospitalized after he was found unconscious after a drinking binge.
Kip remains in a nursing home. He, like Nebuchadnezzar, has lost his mind. He no longer drinks, but he no longer remembers that I even exist. Alcohol's anesthesia and idolatry took his mind, our marriage, and my best friend.
It's been three years since I moved out. I'm still healing physically from the beating he gave me the night I moved out.
But in my affliction, others are experiencing hope.
It's a strange beauty. No fields of daisies to run through, but it looks good on me, and I am strong.
Thank you for being faithful to share your song.
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Thanks Laura. For both your song, and the opportunity to write out my story.
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