Caught Between Heaven & Earth

Just when you think you’ve got it made … boom! Something happens to turn your world upside down. Life for me had never been better. Years of hard work and long hours were winding down. I’d spent much of my life in corporate jobs that measured worth in overtime hours—how much of your life you were willing to sacrifice. Leave work at five o’clock in the evening? Don’t make me laugh. That would only get sideways glances and sarcastic questions feigning concern like, “Is your daughter sick?” To which I would furrow my brows and lie, “Yes, she came home early from school today,” hoping for sympathy. Those kind of jobs. By the time my daughter Bailey entered her junior year in high school, I had already taken the exit ramp out of the corporate rat race. The plan was to spend more time together before she graduated. I’d worked her entire life, going back to the office after less than three months of maternity leave. I often had “mom guilt” and dreamed of unencumbered, carefree days with her. Thanks to Eric—my wonderful and always supportive husband—I was finally able to do that, launching out on my own as a marketing consultant and dictating my own hours. Eric was doing exceptionally well at his job, so for the first time since I was fourteen years old, I didn’t have to work. I chose to start my business because … well, hard work is all I’ve ever known. Besides, I couldn’t leave Eric forging the way alone for the entire family. I would have felt too guilty. Still, it was a great gig. I provided services for only clients who truly valued my work, albeit most of them seemed to have limited budgets. I guess there’s a correlation, but I didn’t care because I was happy. Eric was happy that I was happy. Bailey was happy that I was happy. So we were all just three happy peas in a pod. I was fulfilled and enjoying life—and certainly not looking to upend that. Spending quality mother-daughter time with Bailey didn’t work out as I’d dreamed, though. She was a teenager and preferred being with friends and the dreaded boyfriend, who stepped into the picture at just the wrong moment. She also had schoolwork, her part-time job at a pizza parlor, college entrance exams, and admissions tasks with which to contend. What little free time was left she spent in her room with her guitar and a headful of teenage angst lyrics, hammering out new songs. I realized I was too late. I backed off and stole moments when I could. At least I could attend school functions without begging for time off from work. When not stealing moments with Bailey I focused on my marketing projects, but kept them to a minimum. I was having too much fun enjoying the previously elusive life of leisure, and I wanted it to last. I had freedom, I had nice clients, the bills were paid … heck, we’d even started saving for retirement. I browsed the mall again for no particular reason—something I had not done since a teenager—and I bought stuff! I bought new-fangled kitchen gadgets and experimented with recipes. Eric bought me a hammock swing, and I swayed myself to sleep on the porch in the middle of the day reading the latest New York Times bestsellers and fluff magazines. Sometimes I slept in and went the entire day without makeup or changing out of my pajamas. There were times I felt guilty for enjoying such freedom when just about everyone else I knew was still laboring away. I didn’t let that thought consume me, though, because I knew such a luxury couldn’t last; nothing ever does. So I relished every minute, certain we would hit a bump in the road and I’d have to get back to the old grindstone. That bump turned out to be more like a giant mountain dropped unexpectedly smack dab in the middle of my comfy life. But it wasn’t a financial hurdle. As I would soon discover, that mountain detoured me onto a beautiful new path of spirituality and communion with God that’s changed my life forever. It was mid-May 2012, just as dusk swept the sun below the living room window. I was home alone winding down from a busy Saturday doing errands. Lying on the couch, I perused miscellaneous articles and media on my iPad as I often did: the news of the day, followed by a link to a recipe, followed by a link to heart-healthy living advice, followed by a link to a story about a boy—a teenage boy who had recently died from a terminal heart condition known as hypertrophic cardiomyopathy (HCM). It was described as a stiffening of the walls of the heart, causing valve and blood flow abnormalities. ... (preview jumps) Something about Ben caught me off guard, though. I felt a lump in my throat and couldn’t fend off tears as I watched the first of the two-part video he’d made. When it was over, I laid my iPad on the couch and headed to the kitchen for a glass of water. ... My sadness morphed into anger and I began yelling and shaking my fists at God, whom I’d never fully acknowledged as being real. “Why do people have to suffer like this?” I asked through gritted teeth. “I just don’t get why people have to suffer,” I yelled accusingly. I made my way to the other side of the island and rested my torso on the cold granite, my face buried in my folded arms. “Suffering is bullshit!” I pounded my fist on the counter. “Nobody should have to ….” A loud knock on the front door startled me.