Broken, Scared, & Beautiful

Shortly after my last post, my husband, Peter, and I were approached by some very sincere, genuine people asking us hard questions. Questions like:

“How do you do it? How do you make marriage work? Why did you choose each other? How can this be a good marriage when there’s so much turmoil underneath it?”

Peter and I have not hidden the fact that I am frustratingly disabled, that it impacts our marriage, and that my disabilities have been the crux of some beautiful God-sightings in the last year. To-date, I have cerebral palsy, epilepsy, broken heart syndrome, and a blessedly evasive anxiety disorder. It makes for some splendid fun (or somethin’).

Early on in our dating relationship, we had a few, very brutal-to-my-heart conversations about how I couldn’t sugarcoat the emotional and mental price I paid for the body I live in. Originally, I had a plan. The plan was to hide everything from Peter, and lead him to believe having a disabled significant other wouldn’t be hard. After witnessing a seizure which lasted a horrendously long afternoon, Peter gave me an ultimatum:

Tell the truth, trust him, or walk away.

For a woman who had been led to believe men wanted the perception of perfection and nothing else, that gentle demand was a harsh change of perspective on me. But from then on out, he slowly and methodically learned every dot and tittle of what living in my disabled self meant.

Two months before we were married, my strong-as-an-ox, healthy-as-a-horse future husband signed over as my Power of Attorney an hour prior to an emergency surgery which had more risks than we wanted to admit. Peter handled it like the God-fearing man he is, and signed on the dotted line after phrases like, “In the event this patient cannot respond, I the undersigned…”

Whatever dreams we had of riding off into the sunset together as a married couple came with a few clouds. And a horse with a limp. And no money. And… so many things which we weren’t willing to admit scared us.

Regardless, after all that, we thought transitioning into marriage with disabilities included would be a breeze–or at least a low-challenge adventure.


The next season of posts — maybe three, maybe 40, maybe a 300-page book in the making — are thoughts we wish someone had shared with us before we were married. Thoughts about sharing a disability between two people but one deformed body. Thoughts about what it means to give up perceptions of perfection in order to strive for fairness and sacrificial love.

Mainly, you’ll hopefully find practical “You need to think about this” stories and anecdotes which made us shake in awe and wonder at the greatness of our God and how marriage points us to Him. Most of these posts will likely take on a “She-Said-He-Said” approach. We are both authoring these entries. They will all be real. They will all be raw. Some of them will be a bit terrifying.

And if you are like me–Peter–whose life hasn’t been controlled by the challenges of disabilities, I hope and pray you read these stories as things to glean from for your own marriage. Ultimately, I pray this series reminds you that marriage at its core has one design. Marriage was designed by God to be the light of Christ to the world, and though that design doesn’t mean marriage has to look one specific way, His light can be portrayed through different circumstances in different ways.

As the healthier person in this marriage, I have been taken down a road of humility and grace. This journey, designed by God, has now given me the eyes to see people I have never thought about before. So to you, I hope God will open your eyes not only to where you can grow to be a godly, supportive spouse, but to also have your eyes opened to where God is desiring to change your life’s perspective to become more like Him. It will hurt. Give yourself time to grow. Remember, though, He is still with us in those hard times and He is walking us down a road we could have never imagined on our own.

Over the next weeks, months, and years as we tell you our story, we pray this allows you to ask questions about our Jesus which are all answered with one simple phrase:

“Neither one of us deserved love; but Love Himself decided to love us anyway.”

To those of you who asked the questions roughly quoted at the beginning of this post, hopefully you’ll come to understand what we have fallen in love with. We needed Christ more than we needed each other, and we “make it work” by asking God to give us the strength to not ignore when marriage is hard. Because, if we focus on Him, the spirit-deep turmoil and unique challenges of a marriage with disabilities is so very worth every second.

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