When “Normal” is No More

June 2020, first grandbaby

May 29, 2024, started out as a normal day for my dear friend Karen. She was ready to leave for her secretarial job at her normal time of 6:30 AM. She kissed her husband Tim goodbye as she normally did. He was in the kitchen making his normal cup of coffee.

No one knew it would be the last “normal” day of Tim’s life…or of Karen’s.

Apparently shortly after she left, Tim walked into the adjacent living room and collapsed with a massive stroke–his coffee still untouched.

And so began months of doctors, procedures, hospital stays, rehab…and prayers. First, that Tim would survive, and then that despite his left side paralysis, he could regain some physical abilities.

Tim worked tirelessly at long, intensive rehab sessions. It was really tough, but he made slow, encouraging gains.

Meanwhile, Karen started spiraling down.

“There are a mountain of things that are now my responsibility,” Karen texted me in June 2024.

I knew from our four decades of friendship that Tim, a Navy veteran and retired tool and die maker, took care of most of the household responsibilities–financial affairs, yard work, cooking, cleaning, car maintenance.

There was no time for Karen to grieve what the couple had lost. Being Tim’s caregiver was like another full-time job, as she tried to figure out what he could and couldn’t do, what he needed from her, and how to get help for both of them.

“I’m mostly imprisoned in my own house because Tim cannot be left alone and we can’t travel easily with a wheelchair,” she explained in an August 2024 text.

The normally witty, fun Karen slid into a very deep depression.

“I have failed my husband and my Lord so badly,” she told me. “I’ve been so broken, so angry and so resentful. Tim is still as sweet as ever…I am not.”

Karen saw a psychiatrist and started on an antidepressant, but there was no quick fix.

Almost two years later, not much has changed about the couple’s circumstances, but finally she can see some light–thanks to medicine, counseling and prayer…especially the prayers of others.

“Had I not been surrounded by good Christian friends and family praying for me every day, I am convinced I would still be in the darkness of depression and anger because I simply could not pray,” she explained.

Early on after the stroke, Karen said that she believed “one day I will be able to tell a triumphant story of Tim’s recovery.”

March 2026

I agree that Tim’s survival and recovery has been a miraculous one–especially as he has maintained much of his memory and all of his lovable personality.

But I wanted to write about Karen today because I believe she has a triumphant story of continuing recovery from the depths of despair.

I know she sees “failure” and “shame” in her life, but I see raw honesty, which always pleases God.

 “I’m clawing my way back one prayer, one verse at a time,” she confided.

If you or someone you love has ever struggled with depression, you understand how dark it can get. Maybe you or your loved one has a chronic illness/condition and realize life never will be “normal” again. Perhaps, like Karen, you are a worn out caregiver.

I hope you will join Karen in “clawing” your way back. Crying out for God’s strength and clinging to His loving promises…even from the depths. That, my friend, is how triumphing over darkness begins.

Deeper and deeper I sink into the mire; I can’t find a foothold.
I am in deep water and the floods overwhelm me…
Answer my prayers, O LORD, for Your unfailing love is wonderful. Psalm 69:2, 16

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 Please open in your browser to hear the song which Karen listened to in her darkest moments:
Desperate by Jamie MacDonald (with Lauren Daigle) © 2024 Capitol CMG, Inc.