Nicole’s Story

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.

It was a sunrise that's still painted in my brain and I can transport to that moment the instant I close my eyes. Accompanying that sunrise was a peculiar and persistent star, one that stayed in my backyard for months. It would meet me every morning for my devotions and prayer. I had never seen it before, and it isn't there today, nearly nine months after my husband went to heaven. But it was there for weeks, probably months, when my soul was heavy and life as I knew it was rocked.

I remember speaking out loud to God there in that moment. Something that I don't know if I had ever done before. I don't even remember what I had said, but it was deep from my soul and from my pain.

God met me there.

It has been 268 days since my husband has died, and there have been days where I thought I was going to die too. Unsure of how I could possibly go on. Days where I felt so heavy and helpless. 

God has continued to meet me.

Even when I questioned, even when I struggled, even when I didn't even know the words to say. When every moment was met with confusion and chaos. My new role as a single mom of three children under 6 meant that every moment was hard. Trying to grieve, help my children through their grief, manage a home, and figure out what our new life even looked like.

He met me.

He met me because I chose to meet Him. Every morning I sat out on my three season room before the kids woke up, the harsh winter air threatening to steal my happiness, but I refused to back down. I continued to meet God on that porch and pour my heart out. I would not let my pain pull me from where God was to meet me. I made a pact with myself to not ask why my husband died, but beg God to show me what He was going to do with it. To make some sort of sense or purpose from it. That He would allow me to see past the pain and trust that there would be some sort of beauty that would come from it. 

He met me with breathtaking sunrises and incredible people and love. Gifts and kind words from strangers and friends, more meals that I could even count, and thoughtful souls to watch my babies when I had to get things done or simply rest.

But even more important than that, He met me in His Word. There is something about death that forces your life to have an intense perspective. That peace that passes all understanding was THICK. I shouldn’t be ok, but somehow I was. I am. God met me in my pain. He grieved with me. I poured over the Bible every morning and His words were a salve to my open wounds. Knowing that God loved me and saw my pain gave me hope. Marcus didn’t die to punish him or me, but God allowed it to happen.

And I know He is going to use him and me greatly for His glory. 

Some days it's really hard to find that star, and I can't see the sunrise through the fog. I just close my eyes and remember that even when I don't see Him, that He is there. He has been there. And He loves me. And that He is good, all the time. In all things. I will forever feel like I am walking around with an arm cut off that nobody can see, but I will walk tall and chest proud. Because this life is a gift. It is mine and it will be amazing, even though I have suffered greatly. The only way that I have survived is because of God and His goodness, drawing me close to Him. And I choose to not just survive, but thrive.  

Nicole’s husband Marcus died from sudden cardiac arrest due to hypertrophic cardiomyopathy on January 15, 2019. Nicole is an entrepreneur, blogger at www.nicolewarnerblog.com, writer, and ambassador for heart health with In a Heartbeat and Safebeat.