“How I wish we could go back to simpler times

Before all our scars and all our secrets were in the light

Now on this hallowed ground, we’ve drawn the battle lines

Will we make it through the night?

It’s going to take more much more than promises this time

Only G-d can change our minds

Maybe you and I were never meant to be complete,

Could we just be broken together

If you can bring your shattered dreams and I’ll bring mine

Could healing still be spoken and save us.

The only way we’ll last forever is broken together..”

When I hear Casting Crowns sing this song, I feel as though some one pulled this song out of my soul. Between the lyrics and with my favorite stringed instruments, and the saddest of all, the cello.

My husband and I have been married over fifteen years. Sometimes it stings to look back on our wedding photos. We have this utter look of innocence in our eyes. We had no idea the storms that we would encounter through the years, and yet I know we have only just begun.

I remember sitting in the geneticist’s office after our daughter had died. We were awaiting her autopsy results. (I still get sick to my stomach thinking about it.) The doctor shared with us the results and then said, “You know most couples that lose a child, the divorce rate is about seventy percent.”

We sat there stunned, it took me a few minutes to start to cry. We had just lost our daughter, and now I may lose my best friend?

She got up and gave us a moment. As soon as the door slammed shut we grabbed each others hands and promised each other that no matter what, we would stay together.

Little did we know that the storm we thought we were in the middle of, was only just the beginning.

After our daughter passed away in our arms, I slipped into a deep depression. My husband stood by my side and allowed me to deeply grieve. We tried to get pregnant again, and two times we miscarried, and the grief ensued.

We finally got pregnant with our son, and he too was diagnosed with the same thing our daughter had. We poured into prayer and begged G-d to spare our son. The good Lord allowed for the doctor to do experimental treatments and inject saline into my belly every three days. It was dangerous to both me and my son, but we chose to trust G-d.

My husband took care of me while I was on thirty-two weeks of bed rest. We welcomed our son Elijah Praise alive and he was whisked off the NICU. That night they asked us if we wanted to prolong his life by doing dialysis, or allow him to die peacefully in our arms. The doctor had stated if it was his child he would never take the proactive measures that we were about to embark upon.

I laid in my bed, post op, and sobbed. Do we keep him for us? Or let him go for him? We wanted him so much. I knew his every movement. We had to let Aurora go and we had always wondered if we had tried harder. . .

We prayed and went forward. We lived and breathed for that sweet boy. G-d smiled on us and allowed us as much continuous time with him as possible. We prayed together. We rejoiced together. We wept together.

Our son Elijah was our Hezekiah baby. We got more time that we were supposed to have.

The doctor would prepare us that he was going to die with each hurdle. But G-d…

Pretty soon the skeptic doctor saw the love we had for him and the hand of G-d that was upon him. He brought in other doctors and proudly would say, “You have got to check this kid out! He is a miracle!”

My husband and I had placed bible verses all over his room, as we pretty much lived in the hospital. It was hard and taxing on our bodies, but it seemed to draw us closer together, to G-d and to each other.

But then…. Eli passed away unexpectedly after six and a half months.

As I heard my husband weep over our son, “No buddy, don’t go! Please don’t go..” Our hearts seemed to shatter as one, all over the floor.

We went home broken, and grieved together. We thanked G-d each day for our children and we realized that even though we hurt for their presence, that they showed us what eternity was all about.

No more sadness.

No more sorrow.

No more pain.

Their lives showed us that G-d was real. With each grim diagnosis, G-d trumped them with more time and more daily miracles. What the enemy had meant for harm, G-d turned into good.

G-d allowed for us to be broken together. While there were times where I wondered how we would make through one more day, we fought together and chose to believe His promises.

G-d blessed us with another boy and a girl. They have not taken the place of their brother and sister. They know all about them and know that they are in Heaven. My kids have zero fear of death.

My husband and I in all our suffering found that G-d was the only way to keep us together . He has been faithful to His promises, and we have been faithful to ours.

If you are married and times are hard. Whatever the reasons that make you want to quit, I encourage you to stay true to your vows to G-d. Hold on to each other, and know that the only way you can last forever, is to be broken together.