A Woman of Courage

After I was widowed, fear took over my life. How could I trust anyone if I couldn't trust God?

-  NATALIE TWEDELL

I arrived at the Christmas party a nervous wreck.

It had been snowing as my husband drove us, and the roads had felt treacherous. I’d kept my hands clenched the entire time and begged God to keep my family safe.

“We made it!” I said, hugging a friend at the party. “Weren’t the roads just terrible?”

My friend looked at me quizzically, then glanced out the window. I had to admit the snowfall did not appear to be all that heavy. In fact, it was quite gentle. “The roads didn’t seem that bad to me,” she said. “But I’m glad you’re here!”

My husband, Matt, hadn’t seemed fazed either. No one at the party was talking about the weather or the driving conditions.

I was the only one freaking out.

Why did this keep happening?

Actually, I knew the answer to that question.

A decade earlier, my first husband, Drew, had died in an accident while training to become a Navy SEAL. He was getting himself in shape at our fitness club before a physical assessment. Attempting to swim 50 meters without taking a breath, he’d blacked out in the pool and drowned.

From the moment the police called to say there had been an accident, my life was taken over by unrelenting fear.

My fears focused especially on my kids. I couldn’t bear to let them out of my sight. I saw hazards everywhere. The words that came out of my mouth most often were, “Be careful!”

Friends would ask if I was okay. Matt tried to be compassionate, but even he was approaching his limit.

I didn’t blame people for not understanding. You can’t know what it’s like to experience trauma until it happens.