Our love story was very unique.

Chris and I fell in love very quickly…after only about 2 months actually (he would tell you a few weeks for him…sweet man). We married 11 months after we started dating, and this August would have marked our 3rd wedding anniversary.

You can ask anybody that knows me well (and even some that don’t know me that well), God had not only blessed our marriage, but He blessed the type of love we had for each other. We were crazy about each other, and our love never weakened after getting married…it actually grew stronger. We couldn’t stand to be apart for very long, and we acted like a bunch of lovesick teenagers most of the time. We never had a single argument, and I can count on one hand the number of times we had what I would classify as a “disagreement”. It almost always seemed to be about time. Chris couldn’t tell time very well. Ha! Ha!

I know he loved me. He told me…all the time. He sent me a love email every morning and love texts throughout the day. He told everybody how much he loved me, and I know I was blessed beyond belief to have somebody love me like that. And…even more…to be given a second chance at such an amazing love after such a heartbreaking divorce many years ago. God truly redeemed the years the locusts had eaten in my marriage to Chris.

So, how could a man that loves me that much end his own life? Yes…he committed the S word. Suicide.

Many have asked how my husband died, and many of you already know. But, I honestly had to write this post not to answer the question, but simply…for me. Every word I write is part of the healing process it seems.

But, the answer to the question of “why” will never be fully understood this side of heaven. There was no note. There was no obvious reason. But, in talking with professionals, and in putting together some pieces of the puzzle with a little hindsight (only about 3-4 days worth of hindsight actually)…it appears to have been mental illness. It appears that Chris may have been mentally sick, and it may have even been his first “episode”. It’s possible he had no idea what was happening to him. But these things I do know…

Chris was a believer!

Chris was cleansed of all sin through the blood of Jesus!

Chris loved God!

Chris loved God’s word!

Chris is now completely healed in heaven!

While I can type these words, and while I know them to be true…it has been a difficult road to walk. Within minutes of my receiving this tragic and life-altering news, Satan was already working on me. With thoughts like…

Leah, how could you have let him do this?

Leah, you could have stopped this.

Leah, you are not worthy of love like this.

Leah, you always fail at marriage.

Leah, you’re alone again.

Leah, you are nothing.

Leah, God can never use you now. This is shaming to Him.

My mind was going crazy with these stupid thoughts. And, I actually remember uttering some of them out loud, because I also remember my friend, Lorie, looking me in the eye (while I was still in a state of shock) and boldly reminding me these were all lies of the enemy.

In the 4 weeks that have followed Chris’ death, God has also been reminding me of a few things. Interestingly, these were the same words that I shared with a precious group of women in Kentucky just a few months ago…

Daughter, remember I am the only One that determines your worth. Your circumstances do not determine your worth. Your family does not determine your worth. Your friends do not determine your worth. I made you…you are Mine…and I love you! And…My love is complete!

My earthly love affair with Chris may have ended abruptly because of the S word, but my love affair with Christ is only heating up more and more intensely. And…He calls me worthy.

In the weeks following my husband’s death earlier this month, I’ve been blessed by having my house cleaned twice by other people. What a precious gift it was not to have to focus on something as mundane, yet as important, as house cleaning. It seems that even something that simple can take a toll on a grieving widow. However, the time came this past weekend when I had to do it myself. Another first since entering this new phase of life. There never seems to be a shortage of firsts.

I had no motivation to clean but knew I would feel so much better after it was done. I had my list of chores, and my daughter had hers, and we both got to work. I think it took me practically all day on Saturday to get everything done, because I kept getting distracted. I would go to put something away in a drawer and see something that reminded me of Chris, and then I would just park there for a little while.

While hanging up some of my clean laundry, I side-stepped to Chris’ side of the closet for a few moments and literally stuck my head into the area where his clothes were hanging. You see…within hours of learning of his death, I quickly ran to our closet to seek out a whiff of him and found comfort in his clothing. I could smell him when smelling his clothes. I’m sure I’m beginning to sound a bit crazy at the moment, but trust me…having his scent around me brought extreme comfort. So, on Saturday…I did my usual routine of “sniffing out” his clothing only to discover his scent was barely there. Actually, I’m not sure it was there anymore at all, but I think my mind wanted to pretend that it was. I actually panicked a little, and the tears began to well up in my eyes. It was almost as if it was my last link to a small piece of his physical presence – even though I know he’s gone. But, as long as the scent was there…I still I had a small piece of him with me.

Deeply saddened, I took a 30-minute break to go sit outside and read some. I had no desire to clean at the moment. I felt betrayed…again. This time…by a loss of a scent. It reminded me of when Isaac was comforted by the scent of his beloved Esau (actually Jacob in disguise)…

So he went to him and kissed him. When Isaac caught the smell of his clothes, he blessed him and said, “Ah, the smell of my son is like the smell of a field that the LORD has blessed.” Genesis 27:27

That’s similar to how I felt whenever I could still smell my husband among his clothing. It was a pleasing and most blessed aroma. But, now…it…was…gone.

After my break outside, I came back to our closet and just started shuffling things around a bit. I’m not sure I was really accomplishing anything. As I was straightening up some items on the floor, I noticed a small pile of clothing on the floor on Chris’ side of the closet. Oh my goodness. I remember now! Right after he died, I saw his dirty clothes on the floor and asked everyone not to touch any of it. I wasn’t ready to move any of his things. I had literally forgotten all about that little pile until I saw it again on Saturday. I scooped it up into my arms, and YES…his scent was there…boldly there! You would have thought I had just opened the most glamorous gift I’d ever received. And…in a way…I had. Who would have thought that finding dirty laundry would have brought me such joy?