Rock Bottom 2010
In January 2010 I had a disturbing dream. It was a shadow with long black hair that swallowed up my husband (I will call him “H”) into the darkness where I couldn’t see him anymore. We had been bickering under stress over the past months, maybe years. He was close to a burnout in church responsibilities. We had survived my near-death after a childbirth and 3.5 years of sleepless working parents life. With no time to recover, we were in survival mode again. Paid jobs on weekdays, campus ministries on weeknights, pastoral training and seminary classes on weekends. We were so busy “living hard for God’s mission” like soldiers that we forgot to date and have fun as a couple. I also knew that H’s relationship with Jesus was no longer vibrant and he had learned to give messages or lead worship without relying on the Holy Spirit. His new job in a startup had a conference with people from the California office, and I found it strange when he almost forgot to prepare for a ministry gathering and rushed to the company party. It was almost as if his love for the Lord got replaced by an idol.
But we coped and cruised through life. We probably appeared fine to most people around us. Isn’t it scary that we sometimes do not see the red flags and keep going?
In April I fainted after a 6am morning prayer meeting while walking back to my car. I barely remembered that I fell. When I regained consciousness, I was laying on a cobblestone road with a pool of blood and broken glasses next to my face. I was confused and tried to get up. But a lady said to me, “Oh, please sit down. Don’t worry, I called an ambulance for you.” I got carried away by the medic and never saw this Good Samaritan lady again. I wish I could thank her today. I came home with stitches on my forehead, rested a bit, and went back to the grind.
A month later we had a family vacation in Miami, Florida. We fed a giraffe at the zoo, played in the sand, and tried jetski for the first time. We had a blast. Was this the break we needed? Maybe we are ‘back to normal’ now? Our daughter turned 4 and we celebrated as a happy family of 3. And it was the last photo of us together until two years later.
One night H was angry at our pastor for denying a request to take a break from leading worship. He said he couldn’t keep going the way it was, and maybe we need to leave this church. I was shocked and said that we can’t abandon our mission. We got into a heated argument, and eventually a full-on fight with yelling and throwing stuff. (If I were to see this scene in a movie, I would’ve known there were many factors culminating into this explosion; but unfortunately we couldn’t see at the time.) He stormed out of the house and I waited for hours. I called the cop, they did not find him, and H did not come home until the next day. We did not really regroup and reconnect. He said that he just needed to be away to clear his mind.
The following week was a blur. The only thing I remember was that we took a family stroll around the neighborhood, stumbled upon a yard sale, and bought a set of yellow plates… then H confessed that he was with a female co-worker that night, and he was moving out to be with her.
Self-condemnation & Depression
First thing that came to mind after my husband left our family was a list of unfinished house chores, which he had asked me to do but I never followed through.
I wasn’t good enough.
Marriage failed because of my fault.
Let me fix it, I should be able to fix it.
My worth is based on my performance.
Problem-solving mentality can be bad in a life of faith.
It was during these dark years that the bible verses about “righteousness” hit me hard. I had known this theological concept for many years. But suddenly it meant a world to me that GOD made me “right” even when I knew AND felt that I was VERY wrong. I couldn’t make myself right. I couldn’t make my marriage right. My life was tainted and I couldn’t get rid of the stains. Even when others assured me as if they could make me (feel) right, I did not feel ‘right-ed’ or liberated in my soul. I kept digging the Scriptures to remember what God says about righteousness. Only Jesus could make me right. Once I received this righteousness from Jesus, it was permanently mine. I no longer had to be afraid of losing it or defend it like crazy. WHAT A RELIEF. I had somehow categorized the topic of righteousness under legalism and logical-thinking with “no emotion involved.” But wow, righteousness is actually FELT in our heart, body and soul. What a relief and freedom.
For 4-5 months after our marriage shattered, all I did was to take care of our little preschooler during the day and cry to Jesus at night. I slowly went back to church gatherings and one Tuesday night, a pastoral training team member prayed over me. I do not even remember what he said, but I experienced a heavy (invisible) blanket being lifted off my head. WOW. What was that?!? I had forgotten how clear the air was. Or how light my body should feel. Or how bright the world looks. How long have I been covered under this blanket of despair? Is this what depression is? It was too heavy to take off on my own. The longer I wore it, the more I wanted to be alone. But my church folks kept praying for me and my family. It is in these moments the scripture becomes real to us.
God’s promises in Isaiah 61 were too glorious, too good, too high, and frankly very unrealistic to me in the state that I was in. But Jesus said that the Spirit of the Sovereign LORD is on Him to bestow a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair. Can the Lord clothe me in a gold dress instead of the heavy rag?
Single Mothering
The week that H left our family, our daughter had a soccer camp. I sat on the grass to watch E and other kids looking adorable in oversized jerseys. But I had no strength to smile. She was trying a sports camp for the first time, and I was single-parenting for the first time. Towards the end of the camp when the kids came back from the field, I noticed her with a clenched lip and sad eyes. I was shocked. I can still picture her little face. She had been a happy, bright, smiley child since birth. She never got nervous in a crowd. She always waved to strangers on the street. Whenever she tried a new thing, she looked for me and dad with a proud grin. But here she was, with this look for the first time. It completely knocked me out of a self-pity mode into a mama-bear mode. I gotta step up and protect her. I must lead this family. I will do ANYTHING for my daughter. I can earnestly say that I laid down my life for her EVERYDAY during the separation years. And guess what... God rewarded me with a soft spot in my heart for her that I had wanted as a new mother (thank you God!) AND a special bond between us. I did not notice this until years later when people started asking how we built such a strong mother-daughter bond. “Which retreat did you go with your daughter?” “What book do you read?” “Which program got your daughter to share openly with you?” It was none of those things. I am not good at researching those things. I even missed the “crucial months for skin-to-skin with a newborn baby” and my breast milk stopped while I was sick after giving birth. I barely had time to read social media posts about mothering. I truly believe that it was 100% God’s mercy on our family. In our weakness and lack, He gifted us this bond between me and E.
2010 -2011 was a hell of a year in survival mode. Shoveling snow and fixing frozen pipes while being sick. Not having money after H emptied out our bank account to go on a European cruise with the mistress. Seeking pro bono lawyers, and meeting some sketchy people, in order to sue H for child support. No choice but to get up and take care of my daughter. As most single mothers know, our children give us amazing strengths to grit through challenges. It is similar to how superheroes gain extra power when there is someone to love.
God honors those who obey Him when it hurts.
He lifts up the humble who loves sacrificially.
When E started kindergarten, I prayed for a word and received Ephesians 4 “Be kind & forgiving…” I held onto it as the vision for her school life. But it turned out that I had to learn it first in my own marriage. I guess that’s how discipleship works, huh? Being a mother has taught me a lot about biblical discipleship. God’s design is so amazing that He sanctifies both the discipler AND disciples.
One of the things that carried me through the dark valleys of despair was E’s line drawing of our family. It had 3 circle faces and one of them had spiky hair, which was dad. Even though she had not seen him at home, she included him. She only knew “family” = the three of us together. I framed this doodle and looked at it everyday to remind myself not to give up. Do not stop hoping. Do not stop waiting. Maybe, just maybe, we will become a family of 3 again. So I prayed.
Sometime during these years, I painted this beggar imagery to depict how I felt, feeling so beat and poor yet filled with Jesus the Living Water. I had never imagined that this hell would give me a ticket into becoming friends with teen mothers in East Palo Alto, CA many years later. And the word on the ticket was “HOPE.”
