Six months, half a year, the marking of time… What is it about anniversaries of both happy and sad things that make us stop, pause, and reflect?

Six months ago I drove with quiet desperation to our attorney’s office to sign divorce papers. What I thought was my worst nightmare was becoming an actuality: the ending of a 30-year commitment and the destruction of a family unit. My husband visited the attorney’s office before me to sign so that it wouldn’t be awkward being there at the same time. I was doing OK signing page after page until I came to the page with his signature already there. My heart sank deeper… That oh-so-familiar script… the one that signed our marriage license, the one that signed each of our four children’s birth certificates. The same signature that represented “new life” was now being used to bring “death,” death to our marriage union. Death to something that I thought was sacred and forever and until one of us left the earth. As I returned to my car, I cried and composed a text to our children- an apology for our failed marriage. They assured me I had done all that I could and that I was now released to move on. I thought this would be the beginning of the uphill climb out of the depths of despair I’d been living in. Little did I know, I was not yet at the bottom of the valley.

From what I can surmise, at the exact same time I was driving to the attorney’s office, my brother and sister-in-law were driving up to Mount Rushmore with their dear friends. Out of nowhere they were hit head-on by a 75-year-old man driving the wrong way down the interstate in broad daylight. Apparently they didn’t see the car approaching until it was too late. My only sibling, my little brother, was gone instantly from this earth. My precious sister of 30 years lived a few more hours but her injuries were too severe. She joined my brother in eternity later that day. The phone call the next morning from my niece seemed strange; I was trying to get out the door to work so I didn’t answer. I thought it was strange that my cousin in Nebraska called a few minutes later; again I was too rushed to answer. I decided to return my niece’s call en route to the office. The horrible news was beyond comprehension. I screamed, and screamed, and she started crying, and I had to hang up. I pulled into Panera Bread’s parking lot and starting sobbing uncontrollably. I didn’t know what to do next. I called my husband who was working across the street. He immediately came and we drove our cars home. I called my boss and choked out the horrible news. She understood…she had lost her sister suddenly years before. My dear friend came over and held me while I sobbed. I called my dad and stepmom who were on a road trip and realized they didn’t know. I had to tell my dad about the accident as he sat in a hotel room in Salt Lake City. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, harder than telling my mom she had cancer.

DEATH… death of a marriage, and now the physical death of my only sibling and his wife. Their four precious children orphaned in their 20’s. To lose both their parents at once was a grief deeper than I could imagine. And my children, still devastated by the news of our impending divorce, were now facing the loss of their beloved aunt and uncle who had always been there for them. And my own loss… facing singleness and now losing the support and love of Ty and Terri. It seemed too cruel. How could God think I could handle this much sadness at once?

So I sit here at the six-month mark and I marvel quite honestly that I’m still standing. I’m not only standing but actually doing remarkably well. I want God to give me a grand revelation of His purposes in having these two tragedies happen simultaneously. The only connection in the timing I’ve been able to reason in my mind is I made it to the “decision line” of ending my marriage before Ty and Terri were taken from me. They were some of my closest confidants in the last year of my trials, and they were confident I had no choice but to move on. My brother texted me the day before the accident, “Just checking in to see how you’re doing… Love you!” Though we hadn’t lived in the same state for 15 years, I always knew he was there for me. I refuse to believe that God “caused” the horrible accident that took their lives. I do however trust that He knows how to help us pick up the pieces of this broken family.

I’m sad tonight that six months have already gone by. But at the same time, I’m amazed that God gives us such beauty in the midst of the ashes. Already we’ve had beautiful happiness in our family… the news of my first grandchild on the way, the birth of my niece Emily’s third child on her father’s birthday, my niece Annie graduating college in December, the engagement and upcoming wedding of my nephew Tyler and his bride, my nephew Turner being named the youth director at Waypoint Church—following in his father’s footsteps. I cheer them on as their aunt, knowing if the roles were reversed my brother would be doing the same. And the spiritual and emotional growth has been amazing in my children’s lives. My daughter has walked through great despair and disappointment and has persevered with God’s help. Ali has learned to lean on her friends and to reach out for wise counsel, and she has deepened her dependence on God. My youngest son has also gone to new depths with Christ. Cameron has shaken off his complacency and is pursuing God with new vigor. His care and concern for our family and me is precious, and I know God is preparing him to be the spiritual leader in his home. Spencer’s heart for his family has grown deeper and he is so intentional with his love for all of us. Always our relational child, he reaches out regularly to his grandfather and cousins in their time of healing. Our strong firstborn Drew has risen to be a leader in our family, checking in with how everyone is doing, and is a pillar of strength for us. And his wife Mary has been able to comfort Ali as a big sister who has sadly walked a similar road in her family. God’s redemptive nature has never been more evident in my family.

I trust God will continue to reveal truth and purpose in all of this as the pain subsides and the wounds heal. I am scarred for life from these two battles. But I like having the scars because it means I loved. I loved my husband in the way I thought best for 30 years. I loved my brother and sister well, and we had shared some amazing times in the last year including our family vacation in Chesapeake Bay, surprising my dad for his birthday, and Turner’s wedding 12 days before their death.

And I’ve concluded: love is all that matters. When we love well, we will not have regret. Six months later, John 3:16 has deeper meaning to me… “God so loved the world that he gave his only son. That whosoever believes in him will not perish, but have everlasting life.” I thank God for His son Jesus, and the strength He gives me to carry on and risk loving more.

My love for these eight children knows no boundaries… The Schenzel Cousins