I probably had 5 dating apps on my phone at once. I was trying so hard. But nothing ever came of it. Finally I laid it down and began to have contentment in my singleness – I was resting in the idea that God would introduce me to the right person or that his plans were for me to be single.

My father was very intelligent and sharp minded. Always looking ahead for a new challenge or opportunity. He began playing the game of backgammon. His style was always to make the most of everything, taking it to the limit, so ordinary games turned into weekend tournaments and a new lifestyle. During this new hobby, he was introduced to cocaine.

The day after my husband and I returned from our 8th mission trip to Costa Rica, I stepped out of the room and found him taking his last breath. After calling 911, texting my two adult children and going to the hospital, I was ushered into the ER and given the words, "he's gone".

We said what turned out to be our Earthly goodbye on January 8th when he left for Basic Training. Perfect hugs were given, perfect words were said, and lots of tears were shed, especially for this pregnant and hormonal momma. On January 22nd I received a call from a hospital in Georgia. “Hello, Mrs. Huss, your husband is here with us, he has gone into cardiac arrest multiple times. He is alive but in critical condition. You need to get here as soon as possible.”

My brother died on November 30, 2018. Never in a million years did I think my brother would die before our children were grown and we were old, very old. Ya know, the way it’s supposed to happen. I was at work, extending my maternity leave. My mom called twice. I didn’t answer. She texted me that something very bad had happened and I needed to call immediately. I called and she delivered the news, “Andrew’s plane crashed.”

I coped with Corey being sick by finding reasons to be mad at him. But my God, I loved him. When Alex and I started dating, he encouraged me to spend more time with my brother and to be his friend. That’s why my mom and I fell in love with Alex so quickly. We would go get dinner with him, go out to grab drinks, bowl, or just hang out with him. Alex made Corey feel normal and would talk to him like they had been friends for years. Corey and I were closer than we had been in 10 years when he died, and I am ever thankful for that.

I remember the morning after my husband died, sitting on my back porch in my floating egg chair. Rocking back and forth, freezing cold, tears filling my eyes and pouring down my face, head pounding from lack of sleep and from more emotions and thoughts than I could process. My backyard faces East, and I shivered and my soul ached and I watched the most spectacular sunrise unfold before me.

When I was 11 years old I was molested for the first time. I did not think it was wrong; I just thought it was the way for someone to show affection towards me. By the age of 14 years old, I was no longer a virgin. I had this warped concept about sex. I wanted control over my body and not others to have control over it so I choose to be promiscuous.

When I think about my back surgery, I don't think about how scared I was or about how painful the recovery was. I think about all the people who came to visit me in the hospital, all the people that I've been able to encourage with my story, and most of all, God's faithfulness through it all.

Twenty-two months have passed and I am still very much in the midst of my own grief. Picking up the pieces of what death has left behind and walking my two young kids through the pains of loss brings back that familiar feeling of sorrow.  There is no doubt that widowhood is a holy space. It is a space where Jesus has met our sorrow in the most tender ways, proving over and over that he will never leave us.