As my first husband and I ‘waded’ through the first couple years of our relationship, I did everything I thought was “good” and ‘right’ to make him happy. It was my main goal to be the best I could be and that would make him happy. Trouble with that logic, I lost me in the mix and became miserable!

I was still longing to hear the words, ‘I love you’, and he was not willing to put those in conversation except when he was drunk. Again, naive girl I  was, I  thought I needed to try harder!

This man was not truly a bad person, but he carried the scars of his past with him just as I  did. The pain of his childhood,  the breakup of two marriages,  and the trauma of a horrific accident as a teenager. He was a broken soul held together with bandages and duct tape.

As a teen, he was shot in the shoulder while hunting and nearly died. He was alone in a field, laying on the ground bleeding out, when he prayed for help. God told him to stand up and a local farmer, who just happened to be in his field in December,  spotted him and got him help. God had plans for this sixteen year old.

He now faced a grueling process of healing and recovery.  His left shoulder was nearly blown away and he faced many surgeries and rehabilitation.  During this time, he became addicted to pain medication, morphine to be exact. It would be his undoing for the remainder of his life. The demon of addiction, now that it had taken root,  would grow and flourish throughout his remaining forty four years.