The little white chapel peaked out between the autumn leaves, the doors gaping wide open, beckoning people to gather inside so we could partake in the sacred event we’ve come for. I breathed in and smiled, recognizing the peace that held me, the steadiness of my hands, the excitement that stirred in me for the evening’s events. Just moments before, it dawned on me that I’ve been to this chapel exactly three times now, each time in the autumn, but each time under completely different circumstances in my life. Autumn 2014
I moved around the reception hall, visiting with one friend before moving onto the next. Almost every conversation began with a “Congratulations!” which could be meant for my recent marriage or my recent pregnancy announcement. “Thank you!” I would beam, and small talk would move to how I was feeling or how “the married life” was going. When “the married life” was brought up, I’d muster up my biggest smile, glance towards my new husband, and say, “Wonderful!” I had hoped I looked in love. I hoped that he was saying the same. When asked this same question at church a few weeks before, his answer completely caught me off guard by not only his honesty with people we hardly knew, but by his hidden implication that I was the reason our marriage was feeling so rocky already. But maybe I wasn’t doing enough. Maybe I wasn’t loving him well. I was amazed at how often I was wrong and he was right. Maybe I wasn’t present enough - I worked sometimes sixty hours a week. Maybe my expectations were too high? I just needed to serve him better. But behind my answer of “Wonderful”, the eyes I tried to twinkle, and the smile I tried to make genuine, was a woman, really just a girl still, who had spent the last two months of her life confused by how the “honeymoon” phase of her marriage could already be over - did it ever even begin in the first place? Was this what people meant when they said the first year of marriage was so difficult? Learning to die to our own wants and desires? Showing and choosing love even when it wasn’t reciprocated? Oh sweet Kendra. You troubled soul. If you only knew what the next four years held. Autumn 2018 I drew a shaky breath, and with trembling hands, reached for the car door. This wasn’t for me, because if it were, I’d choose to just stay curled up in a ball at home, never to face the world again. This was for our friends who had walked with us through the valleys of life and would continue to do so even after this evening. I held my head high trying to display some kind of dignity and perhaps a look that I wanted to come across as genuine and honest. I carried my youngest daughter on my hip, she was not quite two, and my parents, brother, and sister, held the hands of my twin daughters I tried to be invisible without looking ashamed. Unnoticed and small without looking scared. I was able to avoid everyone who didn’t know for most of the evening. And then it happened. I found myself in the bathroom during the reception and someone asked… “Where is he?” I should’ve practiced having an answer for the predictable and inevitable questions. But I didn’t. I just hoped no one would ask. But someone did. And it was someone I cared about and who I knew cared about me… but I wasn’t ready to share and certainly not in the bathroom of this venue. The irony wasn’t lost on me that a marriage was being celebrated just above me, and down here, in the bathroom, I was asked about mine. “Where is he?” I forced a smirk and tried to play it cool… “I’d like to know!” But I didn’t really want to know. I was here and he was… somewhere else. I didn’t know where, but it had to be at least 500 yards away from me according to the order of protection I was granted at the recommendation of the police officers who responded to my desperate call just weeks before. I didn’t know how this story was going to end. I’d been pleading with the Lord for redemption, crying out for healing and for freedom from the bondage of an oppressive marriage. I was waiting and expecting the miracle to occur for the husband I had been with that last time I was at this venue. God does the impossible every single day. And I fully believed that He would do it again and mine would be a story of precious redemption. And it was. Just, never how I imagined. Autumn 2024 I’ve been to this chapel exactly three times now. We parked the car and I waited while my husband came to open the door. We scooped our little baby out of the backseat of the car and snuggled him close while walking up to that little white chapel. We were escorted to our seats and squeezed into a row with my parents and some of our close friends. Our baby was passed down to Marla, who had been at that first wedding, then down to Carlie, who had been at the last. Then he made his way to my parents. The groom wept adoringly as his bride walked towards him. This was a special wedding. Holly and my sister had been friends. They were on the same swim team at one point. Holly’s mom loved my sister and my sister loved her. They have consistently seen my family and prayed for us, knowing that we’d never get to watch my sister in her own wedding. At the reception, I found Rebecca. Smiling, she hugged me, and her oldest daughter held my baby for a while. “Redemption is sweet, isn’t it, Kendra? Your life is so beautiful.” She had walked with me through it all. Rebecca made sure I had food when I wasn’t eating. Her husband made sure my girls and I had a safe place to hide when we needed to, and their kids had played with mine many times over the years as I found solace in their home bustling with seven children and usually a dog. She took my baby and snuggled him close, remembering a time, not that long ago, her own children were this tiny. I made my way back to the table I was sharing with my parents and husband. At the table next to us sat six people who I love dearly. My mom leaned into my ear and whispered, “That table has walked with us through a lot of things, haven’t they?” And I paused to think of each person and how important they have been in our lives. My writing would go on for pages and pages if I wrote about how important these six people have been to me. Caleb and Carlie; Marla and Darin; Merle and Karen. The Church has held me, loved me, counseled me, fed me, cared for my children, and protected me. We all came to celebrate Holly and her groom, but throughout the evening I couldn’t help but celebrate all that God had done in my life over the last ten years. Ten years. My husband and I left the reception and in the darkness of the night, we walked down the bridge all lit up with twinkling lights, the little white chapel was just in the distance. I freely threw my head back and laughed as Adam muttered lines from Lord of the Rings into the stillness of the night. So much joy. We made our way to the car, hand in hand, and he waited for me to buckle up our baby so he could open my door for me. I kissed him before sliding into my seat and then we made our way home. Home. Where I am wanted and adored. Loved and cherished. I live for these redemptive moments where I can look at these definitive markers of how God has carried me. They’re all around, you know? The redemptive moments. Sometimes we cover them up or skip over them by refusing to return to the places where we were hurt the most. But there’s something beautiful about going back to where you were when your world was falling apart. Sometimes it is a hotel room with friends, where one year you’re sharing how awful your marriage is and you’re not sure what to do, and the next you’re sharing how you’re finally safe and free. Sometimes it is the sanctuary of a church, where one day you’re weeping when a stranger prays for you, another you’re grieving the death of your sister with her casket just before you, and another day you’re leading hundreds of people in worship of King Jesus. Sometimes it is in a coffee shop just down the street from your therapist’s office, where one day you run into an old friend from church and another day two years later, he asks to marry you. And sometimes, It is a little white chapel Peaking out between the autumn leaves.
4 Comments
Daddy and Mama
10/19/2024 05:22:02 pm
“We remain confident of this: we will see the goodness of the LORD in the land of the living.”
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Ellie Piltz
10/20/2024 05:42:50 am
Beautiful Kendra! Keep writing. God is so good. Love you!
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Rolly Walter
10/20/2024 12:33:49 pm
I loved reading this. You have peaceful words. And hopeful too.
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Maggie Pope
10/20/2024 03:01:40 pm
I love your writing and even more the beautiful truths behind these words, truths and history.
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Hi, Friend.I'm Kendra LeeAnne and I'm so thankful you're here. I hope Jesus meets you somewhere in the midst of my sprawling words and pondering heart. If you're looking for previous Bible studies I've written, click here to find them.
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