Diary of a Struggling Man

Let me take you back to 1984. It was my sister’s friend’s wedding; I was a young male who was fresh from the United States Army Basic Training. My sister, Heseland, introduced me to one of her friends named Dale. Dale was attending Boys and Girls Height School in Brooklyn, New York. From that moment on, we were a match made in Heaven. We were together ever since. We had our share of ups and downs, but we stuck it out. We had two boys, and then we moved to Miami, Florida, in 1995. Then we had one more boy. We were a family of five, and everything was okay for a while. We were active in the church, and I was striving to be a minister. But in 1994, Dale was diagnosed with lupus. Many doctors visits, hospital attendance, and medical bills began to take effect. After a while, there was no trace of the infirmity in her body. I credit that to the prayers of the righteous, the late Harriet Jones and the members of Holy Ghost Tabernacle Church, and also our family and friends who labored in prayer.

Confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed. The earnest prayer of a righteous person has great power and produces wonderful results.

James 5:16 (nlt)

After some time passed, Dale was then diagnosed with a spinal virus called HTLV1—Tropical Plastic Periphrastic. This virus attacks the spine and the lower part of the body, which sometimes travels to the respiratory system. From that point on, things started to decrease dramatically. One of the first signs was that she started to drag her feet when she walked. In 1991, when the former President Bill Clinton came to the University of Miami to campaign, Dale and I, along with our oldest boy, Jaron, went to see the President. When we were leaving the campaign site, because Dale could not lift her feet too high, she tripped on a crack on the sidewalk and fell, busting her lips and teeth. From that day on, life was a downward motion.

Then she began to lose her ability to walk. She had to use a walking cane, and before you knew it, she had to use a wheel chair. When she had no ability to walk at all, she was diagnosed as permanently disabled. She began to lose her ability to write, and then she had difficulty seeing, breathing and eating. But with the love that I had for my wife, there was no doubt that I was going to be by her side to the end. This went on for approximately ten years. There were many hospital visits, surgeries, emergencies, etc. I remember the tubes that were put down her throat and in her side to feed her and help her breathe. Yes, there were times when I was tired and frustrated. Yes, only God knows. It was a long challenging road. I can personally tell you, whether you believe in God or not, a higher power than man must have been looking over me because there is no way I could have handled all that. I know it was God holding me and guiding me through this trial.

Imagine trying to take care of a disabled person, without much help from insurance for medical bills, raising three growing boys, paying for the regular household bills and the needs concerning the necessity of life, trying to hold down two jobs to keep my family above water, and trying to keep up with the boys schooling.

I was a shy and quiet person, but there were many, many times I wished and hoped and prayed that somebody would come by to offer some physical help. I am not insinuating that no one helped us, but the burden, the task and all the things that needed to be done were so much that we needed much more than basic help.

On the morning of December 15, 2005, I was getting ready to leave work from doing a graveyard shift when I got a phone call from one of my sons, informing me that Dale had passed away in her sleep. I began to scream as a if piece of my flesh had been ripped from my body. When you get a phone call saying that your wife or your husband is no more, what would be your reaction? I could not handle the fact that I would be without someone to talk to and have funny conversations with at night. From that moment on, I was like an empty vessel.

Here I was ordained as an elder in the church, but hurting on the inside like a little baby that lost its first love. I preached and ministered to people, yet hurt on the inside. I went to work and supervised people, yet hurt on the inside. I still had to do the necessities to provide for my three boys, who were growing day by day. I would ask myself, “When will it end? When will I be able to say the hurting is over and my vessel has some substance inside it?”

I was searching for anything or anybody to fulfill my hunger for fulfillment. I looked good on the outside, but inside I was like dried up bones. I had no one to talk to.
I was so lonely that I would find myself wanting to go to work to keep from thinking of crazy things. I began to pray that God would give me a companion, someone just to talk to and keep a conversation with. But it never happened. So finally I realized that no one was coming, and that my life is what I make it.

Carl Mathis: author of Life is what you make it – seven steps to moving forward
Go here now http://www.carlmathis.com