At the Crossroads

I was talking to my brother the other day and during the conversation, I told him that there are a few times in your life when you are faced with a decision big enough to change the course of your life and you know your decision will affect your life. For example, who to marry. This will have a big impact on your life, you will be with this person night and day for the rest of your life (at least that is the hope). During this time you find that there are little things your spouse did that were "cute" while dating, are now so annoying that you want to hit them in the head and say "Stop doing that!". But you love this person and accept the challenges as well as the joys of living a life together. In March, I faced one of these life changing decisions. I was standing on a high cliff, below was the roaring sea and jagged rocks and my toes were right on the edge. One more step and over I would go, free fall for a few seconds then BAM! end the pain. Or, I could back away from the cliff, continue to endure this never ending pain and try to tough it out. Let me back up a little to explain how I got there. After the birth of Joe, I hit the lowest point in my life. I was present at his birth, but not excited, in fact when he was born I couldn't care less. I cried at the birth of all my children, it was relief that they were okay, that Dana was fine and meeting a long lost friend. But with Nathaniel, it was different. The week before, I had my last Sympathetic Lumbar Block to try and stop the pain long enough to at least participate in the birth. It didn't work, and so any joy or excitement I may feel, was crushed by the pain. I was there physically but not mentally. I still carry the guilt I feel today for not being there for Joe and Dana. By mid march, the pain was so intense that I lay in bed, under heavy drugs contemplating the best way to get out of the game. When you are in constant pain, it takes over your whole life to the point of sucking out any bits of happiness you feel. It is mentally and spiritually breaking and exhausting to fight every second of every day. So I edged up to the cliff and stood there, one step forward the pain would be gone and I could get relief, one step back, I would fight the pain every second of every day and try to continue. Sounds like an easy decision, stay for Dana and the kids. Well, to be honest, it was not easy. Taking the step from the cliff was so much more appealing because it was a guaranteed way to escape the pain. I took steps to prepare to ensure Dana and the Kids would be taken care of financially and even planned my funeral to take that stress away. I had even started to write to each of my children some thoughts to help them through life and how to help their Mom get through the brief period of mourning and move on once I was gone. In a sense, I was planning my death, I had to get out and escape the pain that had consumed me. It was during this low point, I cried up what was to be my last prayer, to warn the other side I was on my way. The prayer did not go as planned. Instead of warning the other side I was coming, I cried to my Heavenly Father to help me step back from this cliff and continue my battle with this horrible, horrible pain and be here for my wife and kids. In my depths of sorrow and pain I felt a voice say to me, "My Son, you have endured great pain, but not as great as I. Cast your cares upon my back and let me carry you." For the first time in months I cried, not of pain, but of hope and joy. I still had the pain, but now I felt that someone was there who did understand and could truly understand my pain. The atonement was both spiritual for our sins, but it was also physical. Jesus did in fact understand my pain and I had someone I could turn to who did understand and who could help me get through this pain. I prayed everyday to help me through, to be there for my wife and kids, to be a better person and to help me fight this monster. I stepped back from the cliff, turned my back and started to painful walk back to my family.