My Dearest Zosia,
I want to begin by telling you how loved and cherished you are, and share this with you to encourage you and give you more peace. Yes, I’ve had it hard too, but by far the worst part of this season has been watching the one I love endure so many health struggles, and the physical and emotional challenges that come with it. I pray for healing for you several times a day, and I have faith and hope that you will get through this, and emerge stronger, wiser and with a great testimony at the end that will go on to inspire others facing similar challenges. Of course, I will continue to do everything I can to support you, comfort you and care for you through these struggles – and everything that is outside my power I will keep taking to God and ask for His help and provision.
But now I want to focus on your discomfort at the perception of my pain, and reassure you that it’s all worth it, and that, for me, it may not be quite like you think. My love, if there is one thing right now my heart yearns for, it is that you shed no more tears thinking of my pain. I’ll try to explain why, by sharing the last two and a half years from my perspective.
Throughout this struggle, I have grown profoundly, I have drawn ever-closer to God, felt His love more deeply, and I have found so much grace in the harder road. Duty and devotion are two wings of the same bird, and the hardship and uncertainty became the very place God met me most intimately. Walking alongside you, my precious wife, hasn't been a detour from life; it has been life – not the one we chose of our own volition, but one that has uncovered a rich depth of love through voluntary commitment, sacrifice and responsibility. God sees all the hidden hours, the quiet heartbreaks, and the exhausted prayers whispered in the middle of the night - and He has used this journey to slowly transform me into a wiser disciple of Christ; someone who has learned to lean on Him more wholeheartedly and love Him and you even more deeply through our vulnerabilities. It has also made me even more grateful for the small pockets of joy and favour we still get to experience, and to be more present and content in His simple, faithful presence.
In the giving, I have received. In laying down more of my life to sacrifice, I have found even more of it in Him. There are few things more spiritually rewarding, enlightening and character-building than willing, sacrificial responsibility in the small, seen and unseen acts of care. Christ continues to meet me there - in persistence, in humility and in greater reliance on Him: His strength has become my own.
As you know, this journey of love and loss is not new to me. I watched my mother care for my father through 11 long years of dementia. Every day, she served him with quiet dignity in order to preserve his dignity and enhance his quality of life in sacrifice of hers, even when he no longer remembered her name. I saw her heart and mine gradually break as we lost more and more of my father over time, but I also saw my mother deepen into a kind of resilience and grace that only love can produce. And it culminated in a miracle, as my mother came to faith near the end of that long season. It was as though the fire of suffering refined her, burning away everything unnecessary until only truth remained – and she could then understand how loved she is, and how much God has been present through her hardship. In a sense, her faith was born out of love in the trenches. She encountered Christ at her husband’s bedside. Sacrifice and responsibility uncover deeper truths, without which we would miss the deepest parts of love.
So please, my treasured wife, I would dearly love for you to focus all the energy you have left on getting better and being kind to yourself – and not shed another tear for my struggles in this. Struggles are part of the learning, the growth and the transformation - and as your devoted husband who tries to put you first in everything, your story is so intimately part of mine that what you live, I live. And this is part of the gospel lived out in sacrificial love, just as Christ did the same for us. A life poured out for another, in sacrificial service to their betterment, is not a chore or a burden, nor is it wasted; it is part of worship.
So let your heart be at peace, my love. If my suffering has become a mirror that reflects your own, then let it now reflect something else too - joy. Because I do consider it ‘pure joy’ as St. James says – not joy that you’re in pain – I’d take all the pain from you if I could. But joy that I get to walk this road with you; joy that I get to take my responsibilities seriously, and joy that both the good and the bad in life enables me to deepen my faith and my relationship with the One who went through the worst of all suffering to demonstrate His love for us. It’s an amazing thing that I get to love you, not only when it’s easy, but especially when it’s hard. It’s an honour, in fact, because to love and serve your beloved as God desires is to serve Him too. Please believe me, as I write this with a sincerity of heart - nothing is wasted – for I believe that the love that endures through the valley is the kind that shines brightest on the mountain. And we will reach that horizon, and as the prophet Isaiah says, “the mountains and the hills shall break forth into singing before you”.
Love you forever,
From your devoted husband,
James xxxxxxxxxxxxx
I shared this in the hope that others going through hard times might be encouraged. Suffering together is part of the call to “carry each other’s burdens”, to fight beside each other when strength fades, and to hold hands through every storm. When you walk the road of sacrificial love, God walks closest with you. He doesn’t always remove the suffering, but He redeems it, and if we let Him, He transforms us in the process. When I’m giving and serving most fervently, it’s as though I hear His voice: “Well done, good and faithful servant.” And that is more than enough.