February Envelopes for Brian Fundraiser
Two years ago on 2/14, we had our 'last' date night. Our 'last' valentine's day hot chocolate night cap. On 2/15, I basically clung to Brian's leg begging him not to work the snow storm. I checked my weather app and throughout the morning asked him where he was and how he was doing and when he was coming home.
I finally got the text at 11:15am that he was "76 home... my boots are soaked." Relief washed over me. I put my phone down and hopped on a zoom call for work. 30minutes later, I found my phone with almost 20 missed calls from Brian's boss. My heart sunk, my face went numb as I prepared to call him back and get news every first responder's spouse dreads.
"Brian's been in an accident. He is in a helicopter to Good Sam. He is alive and breathing. That's all we know."
He is alive. And breathing. And that is still all we know.
Soon, Feb 15th will be the day that marks 2 years. But really, just another day in this groundhog's day - or - on the positive side, another day of healing. I don't like to land mark time. I never really have. Anniversaries can be fun because it allows you to reflect and look back on memories, but Brian and I really chose to always be present and enjoy the 'now.' Unfortunately, right 'now,' being present really sucks. Because it means living in this reality where my husband is physically here, but cognitively, mostly absent. I have weathered 2 years by his side, mostly in silence, drowned out by the ambient hums, beeps, and alarms of the hospitals. Talking to Brian with no true response. Not knowing if he's thirsty, tired, sore. Not being able to see his smile or hear his laugh. But with every new day, I ask God to renew my hope. To remind me that Brian belongs to God, not to me. And so I'm choosing to believe that God loves Brian and is working out a story that none of us can predict, as with most things in life. I was never in control before, and I am not in control now.
On our wedding day, the last line of my vows was "I promise to always love you with the certainty that I have today."
And boy, Brian, do I certainly love you. I am not going. And I love you the most.
Heartache and suffering has a bittersweet way of teaching us the true depths of love. I am thankful, in that way, to have met true love in my lifetime - for now that it has been tested, it stands firmer than ever before.
Thank you all for rallying around our love. 
Please consider helping Brian 76 home, where he will hopefully fully recover:
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"I waited and waited and waited for god. At last, He looked; finally He listened. He lifted me out of the ditch, pulled me from deep mud. He stood me up on a solid rock to make sure I wouldn't slip. He taught me how to sing the latest God-song, a praise-song to our God. More and more people are seeing this; they enter the mystery, abandoning themselves to God."
-Psalms 40:1-3 MSG
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