Preface
A decade has passed since the accident, otherwise known as "the beginning." Sue and I have been married for seven years, I've settled into the investment business and started to work my way up the ladder, and Sue has reached a point where she needs a break from her career as a medical social worker. This is about the time we discover that we are one of those many couples for whom pregnancy is not going to be easy. After our first foray into the fertility drug scene, a brief hope, and our first miscarriage, I accept a promotion to manage the Fidelity Investments office in Vancouver.
On January 3, 2000 (two days after the world did not end, and airplanes did not fall from the sky) Sue and I find ourselves on a flight from Toronto to Vancouver
We're excited about this next chapter of our lives. It's been a difficult decision to leave our large and tight-knit families behind and "go west", but we've been praying for some time for, well... more. It's time to break out of our shells.
You can imagine our disappointment and confusion then as we find ourselves on a Vancouver to Toronto flight on December 21, less than one year later. We're going back.
When we first stepped off the plane in Vancouver we did not know a soul for a thousand miles. I had a great job to go to every day, but for Sue life was different. She split her time between sitting in our big empty house, and frequent trips back and forth to the fertility clinic. Yes, we were trying again.
This time it was in-vitro fertilization. After months of the stress and punishing physical side effects for Sue, the results were the same: A brief pregnancy, and a miscarriage. Our time in Vancouver had taken its toll on Sue, and she had had enough. It was with profound sadness that I smiled and bluffed my way through a couple of interviews in Toronto, accepted another promotion for a new position back at the head office, and boarded the flight to Toronto.
When we arrive back in Ontario , we immediately connect with another fertility specialist. An Irishman with a "colourful" vocabulary, Ed is too much of a maverick to survive in a clinic. He works alone, and we like him instantly. The three of us are hopeful. Our history provides Ed with a lot of information, and he tells us he'll get us pregnant even if, in his words, "its the last fucking thing I do."
Ed makes good on his promise - We're pregnant! Briefly.
You can fill in the rest.
Three strikes and you're out. It's official... Sue and I are both sinking into a deep depression, and the next chapter begins.
The Dark Night of The Soul
A funny thing happened on the way to the pits of depression - we stopped hearing God's voice.
I felt like I was walking around with an open wound that everyone could see. My boss called me into his office one day, closed the door, and sat staring at me.
"Mike, I can't imagine what you and Sue are going through. It must be terrible. Are you going to be OK?"
I looked at him, a little confused by this uncharacteristic show of sympathy. Before I could answer, he continued.
"Because you need to suck it up and leave your personal problems at home. You're bringing everybody down."
Our conversation was over, and with a slap on the back he directed me out.
That night I drove home to our big empty house in the suburbs in silence.
A dark night of the soul is a strange thing to go through. To be honest I haven't looked too closely at St. John of the Cross's experience, but I can tell you what mine was like. I was alone. Sue was also hurting, more so than me, and our pain intersected at several points. But I couldn't help her, and she couldn't help me. Even when we were together, we were alone. God had left the building, and the more I thought about it, the angrier I got.
I guess people experience trials in different ways. I suppose some start to doubt, and even lose their faith entirely. Not me, although it might have been easier in some ways to just chuck it all and walk away. I couldn't. I knew God existed, and I knew he had utterly and completely abandoned us.
I was pissed off with God, to say the least, and I periodically told him so. In fact, that was the only communication passing between us in those days. I would kick, yell and swear at him, and in return I would hear nothing but the roaring silence.
On the drive home from the office that night I decided I had reached the end of my rope. The following week I was scheduled to speak at a client conference in Kananaskis. I had three days to spend in that beautiful place, and other than an hour-long presentation I had nothing to do, so I planned to spend my time hiking.
Sitting in traffic that night I told God that Kananaskis was going to be our breaking point.
"You've completely bailed on me, God. I'm in hell, and you are nowhere!" I pounded the dashboard for emphasis. "Well, I've got news for you. Next week you had better show up. On the trail, in the mountains--I don't care. But I promise you this: If you don't show up, you and I are through!" Of course, there was no reply.
Having made my threat, I felt no better. I promptly forgot the outburst. After all, it was just one of many.
A couple of days later I suddenly realized I was going to be leaving Sue all alone in the midst of a very dark time. Truth be told I probably didn't want to be alone either, so I suggested she come with me.
If you've ever been to Kananaskis you know how beautiful a place it is. Sue and I spent a lot of time walking and talking, and sitting in silence. We cried a little, and significantly, we laughed a little too. It was a very important time.
But there a few hours in particular which are burned in our memories forever.
We were hiking the trails around the village when we heard a rustling in the bushes close to us. We stopped in our tracks as we had already seen one bear, and didn't really want any surprises. Instead of a bear, a beautiful deer--a buck--came out of the trees about fifteen metres away.
And he kept coming.
As we stood silently that deer walked right up to Sue, only stopping when he was within about two metres of her. I swear he looked at her, he looked at me, then casually nibbled at some grass at his feet. At Sue's feet, really. We stood there in disbelief, and slowly a smile spread across Sue's face. I hadn't seen her smile like that in a long time. (I had the presence of mind to snap a quick photo, which is buried in our stuff somewhere.)
The deer was in no hurry, and as we admired him he very slowly wandered off. We walked on, excited about the encounter. Sue looked at me and said, "It's as if he knew we needed a friend."
Eventually we ended up back at the hotel. As we strolled through the lobby Sue suddenly let go of my hand. "I'm just going to look in the gift shop for a minute." She went left and I kept walking straight, down the hall and on into our room.
I was staring out the window as I heard the door open, and I turned as Sue walked in. She was carrying a small bag, and she was crying.
"What's wrong?" As if I didn't know the answer to that question. Everything was wrong.
She sobbed as she explained. "I don't even know why I walked into the store. It was if something was pulling me."
I started to get a strange feeling. Something in my memory was starting to stir...
She reached into the bag and said, "I walked right over to a big bin of stuffed animals, reached in and pulled this one out." And in her hand she held a small stuffed deer.
"Read the label," She whispered.
Around the deer's neck was a little tag printed with the words:
"Faith is believing in what you cannot see."
Suddenly I remembered. I felt like a lightening bolt was passing through my body. I must have looked like I'd seen a ghost, because Sue grabbed me and fairly yelled, "What's the matter?!"
"The deer..." I whispered. And I told her about my last conversation with God.
He showed up.
God showed up and told us he was still there, and still in control.
I wish I could tell you that the dark clouds parted instantly, but I can't. From that moment on though, there was a difference. We now knew they would part. In that moment we began the long, slow climb out of the pit, led on by a God who was there, who had always been there, and who has a soft spot for hurting people, and for deer.
Afterword
I hope some of this makes sense. This has been the hardest thing I have ever written in my life... every word was an effort. God was quiet again today. Not in an abandoning sense, though. He was sitting next to me in Starbucks all day as I wrote, grieving with me as I relived this pain.
A note to those who hurt. I think I can speak for Sue when I tell you this period of our lives was very formative, even as it was very painful. We are convinced that there is no growth without pain. Some may object to that, but I refuse to debate it. There is no growth without pain. Your pain will be a catalyst for growth, if you hang in there.
Well said Mike. Thank you.
Posted by: ryan | February 01, 2007 at 11:50 PM
Mike, thankyou for writing with such honesty and clarity about this painful time. I look forward with much anticipation to the next chapter.
Posted by: David. A. | February 01, 2007 at 11:58 PM
thank you for sharing this chapter in your lives with us. and for doing so in such a transparent way. i hate that you had to go through this, but what has been formed in both of you is so beautiful it's changing the world.
Posted by: bobbie | February 02, 2007 at 04:24 AM
I'm so sorry for what you had to go through (and know it never goes away).
I am grateful to God for what he made you both as you walked through the fire. I pray you will be blessed with all you do, as you are a blessing to so many.
With love, an understatement.
Posted by: lynne | February 02, 2007 at 06:18 AM
Mike,
Thanks for writing this. At a very appropriate time for me. Much appreciated, brother.
Posted by: Bill Kinnon | February 02, 2007 at 06:22 AM
amazing how you and sue have become the deer in the lives of so many. it's all being redeemed and many will now walk away from your presence knowing He showed up.
Posted by: david | February 02, 2007 at 06:34 AM
Mike, I don't know you other than from the blogosphere - that's ok - though I wish for a face to face someday (I think our hearts are made of the same stuff).
But as I sit here in my office, your words and your story have brought tears to my eyes - I've connected with your writing deeply and trust that others will as well. I look forward to reading on. Keep speaking.
Posted by: nate | February 02, 2007 at 07:04 AM
Mike and Sue: As I read these entries, I had a thought.Your mother and I might not be around to see it but I think what you detailed wont be "chapters" in the book of your life, or possibly an actual book. They will make up a significant "Preface", "Introduction"
or "Foreword" of a great book-of-life (or an actual book of exciting chapters) you are now "writing" and yet to appear.
Starting with the accident in April 1989, your experience in the financial world, and on through the agony you outlined, you are both now battle-hardened Kingdom-builders who are well into "writing" Chapter One. I would love to be around to see all the great though unknown "chapters" that lie ahead. As I felt the agony, I pondered the verse of an old hymn that so well describes the life of you and Sue in its pain and victory:
----------------------------------------
We would help to build the city
Of our God so wondrous fair;
Give our time, bring all our talents
And each gift of beauty rare,
Powers of mind and strength of purpose,
Days of labour, nights of strain,
That God's will may be accomplished
O'er the Kingdom he shall reign!
Love from us both.
DT
Posted by: DAVID T | February 02, 2007 at 12:39 PM
This is the most real thing I've read in a long time. I'm crying here, Mike.
This is why I love God. Right here. This is it.
Thanks, brother.
Posted by: [rhymes with kerouac] | February 02, 2007 at 07:09 PM
don't know what to say....you both know how much we love you. you both have been through so much and i can't imagine how difficult it was to put this down on (i was going to say paper) but you know what i mean.
i know that the pain is never really going to go away, but it blows my mind how you both have taken a difficult situation and grown so much, spiritually, with compassion and grace. i know that god was wept with you and that he also rejoices in how you both have taken the gifts he has given you and absolutely ran with them and are changing peoples lives.
love you guys.
xoxoxoxo
Posted by: Heather | February 02, 2007 at 07:29 PM
MIKE..the last couple of days l have been pondering what I could say in commenting. I am so glad you are finally writing your story, even though l know how painful it will be for you, and painful for us who love you both so much. I have to agree with you that we grow more spiritually through pain than any other life experiece, and l think people reading will understand how you both got to where you are in your different ministries. l look forward to reading more chapters and as you write I am praying that a special healing will come to you in the writing. I already sense that others will be healed too who perhaps have gone through similiar pain. Much love and prayers...Betty
Posted by: BETTY | February 03, 2007 at 11:02 AM
Thank you for sharing this with us.
Posted by: robert | February 03, 2007 at 01:19 PM
Mike, I remember well your accident and your long road to recovery. Who would have thought it would be such a significant waypoint in the profound, painful, amazing journey on which you and Sue find yourselves? Thank you for letting us tag along.
Posted by: Reid | February 03, 2007 at 02:24 PM
Oh Mike - continue on with courage. It's good for the soul. Thanks for writing this one.. I knew when I encouraged you to write your "Dark Night of the Soul" -it would be painful yet.. in some ways..freeing for you. And now I sit here in my productions room, crying as I read this. Yah I know... so unprofessional.. but this has been good for my soul too. Thank you, my friend. With love, Melinda
Posted by: Melinda Estabrooks | February 05, 2007 at 09:31 AM
Mike...
Here I am, in tears too... thanks Mike for your vulnerability and honesty. It is beautiful. I agree with your dad (?) who thinks this might be a preface. Your story is just starting. I can't wait to read more...
Mark
Posted by: Mark | February 05, 2007 at 07:09 PM
About 3 years ago I dropped into a black hole – four months of absolute terror. I wanted to end my life, but somehow [Holy Spirit], I reached out to a friend who took me to hospital. I had three visits [hospital] in four months – I actually thought I was in hell. I imagine I was going through some sort of metamorphosis [mental, physical & spiritual]. I had been seeing a therapist [1994] on a regular basis, up until this point in time. I actually thought I would be locked away – but the hospital staff was very supportive [I had no control over my process]. I was released from hospital 16th September 1994, but my fear, pain & shame had only subsided a little. I remember this particular morning waking up [home] & my process would start up again [fear, pain, & shame]. No one could help me, not even my therapist [I was terrified]. I asked Jesus Christ to have mercy on me & forgive me my sins. Slowly, all my fear has dissipated & I believe Jesus delivered me from my “psychological prison.” I am a practicing Catholic & the Holy Spirit is my friend & strength; every day since then has been a joy & blessing. I deserve to go to hell for the life I have led, but Jesus through His sacrifice on the cross, delivered me from my inequities. John 3: 8, John 15: 26, are verses I can relate to, organically. He’s a real person who is with me all the time. I have so much joy & peace in my life, today, after a childhood spent in orphanages [England & Australia]. Fear, pain, & shame, are no longer my constant companions. I just wanted to share my experience with you [Luke 8: 16 – 17].
Peace Be With You
Patrick
Posted by: Patrick | March 25, 2007 at 09:10 AM
oh wow. very cool and very well-written. I hope you keep writing
Posted by: Vikki | April 11, 2008 at 10:41 AM
thank you Mike, for sharing your story of painful growth so vulnerably...I am moved and grieve with you. I thank God for the redemption of your story with Sue and how you both inspire and transform others through your own personal transformation.
Posted by: maureen | April 30, 2008 at 11:55 PM
i think its important to know only a VERY select few go through the dark night of the soul. spiritual darkness is one thing, the dark night is another. read some Groeschel, he explains it.
Posted by: Matt | May 13, 2008 at 09:19 PM
Hi Mike, dont know if you still check your blog. Its funny, Ive been through alot of things in my life and what Im going through right has brought me a place of non-stop tears. I never knew I had so many tears. A friend told me about the dark night of the soul. Over the years I got so use to God stepping in, in difficult times, it hurts so much when your in a jam and He turns His back...IT HURTS...Im still in the darkness. Not out yet. The enemy has made me feel like I would lose my mind but somewhere deep down inside my faith is like a small fire glowing in the dark. I know He is there...my heart grows faint but I know He is..thanks for sharing..
I keep reading the story of Jesus in Gethsemane and remember the great purpose that came out of that dak night
Kerry-Ann
Posted by: Kerry-Ann | October 24, 2008 at 06:12 PM
I, too, have walked those dark roads, and I'm so grateful to have stumbled onto your blog. I recognize myself in so much of what you have written here. I have written some about my experiences on my blog, and I hope you'll check it out someday when you get a chance.
Thanks for sharing this part of your story.
Posted by: Kari Brodin | April 13, 2009 at 02:57 PM
I have been there....was fortunate to come out of it with 2 children, but am forever marked.
Your post was incredible- so heartfelt, so open, so real.
Thank you.
Posted by: Graham | May 11, 2009 at 08:32 AM
Thanks to God that he allows people like you to be there for people like me. I've benefitted from your life & more specifically from your story today.
Posted by: Steve | December 08, 2009 at 10:39 AM
Hi Mike,
You sound just like me, especially the beating on the dashboard and swearing at God part, been there many times myself, thank you brother for sharing your honest heart! It's time we move past dead letter religion to being REAL! Real with God and each other! I think I recently had some kind of a breakdwon of sorts, first one in 30 years of knowing Christ as my life! He continues to take me DEEPER, and revealing me Himself in the total darkness! I write online, just completed my first book! I stumbled (yeah right) onto your writing while researching "The Dark Night of The Soul" by A.W. Tozer! Check out my (unfinished) blog at the website listed below! Thanks again for your testimony of his unconditional love and Grace! Please contact me, I am also on Facebook! God Bless you and your wife!
Rich
Posted by: Rich Novek | November 03, 2010 at 12:22 PM