It began slowly: The shift from strategically planned schedules to a slow exhale in silver linings. Until the last email was answered, the last event rescheduled and then we were left with…silence.
It was a world in which the perfect storm had come upon him and it manifested in unexpected ways.
In May of 2020 the whole world looked different but our very small lives would change in ways that extended beyond a global pandemic.
While the world was reeling with masks, confinement and a shortage of toilet paper, Keith and I were sitting in our backyard attempting to figure out how to navigate impending catastrophe and the raging storm headed our way.
The days of Covid looked different for everyone, but for us it saw Keith’s son move out shortly before, followed by his daughter being relocated to the West with her husband. Keith soon found himself no longer having the active role of parent to kids who needed him daily. Many parents experience the life change of empty nest, but for Keith it came at a time where his entrepreneurial career that he’d worked so hard to build for nearly a decade also came to a halt due to the travel restrictions.
The dark ominous clouds on the horizon looked like restlessness. The storm itself manifested into two weeks of sleepless nights. The routine of walking up and down the neighborhood sidewalks at 3:00 a.m. became necessary to convince yourself that the sun would come up again.
It wouldn’t always be dark.
Many of us have experienced panic attacks, but most of us haven’t experienced them for two straight weeks.
This is the chapter that Keith walked through and I attempted to support him however I could. We spent many midnights sitting outside, where I’d lay my hands on his head and beg God to release whatever was happening. It also looked like fumbling through tele-health visits to online doctors we didn’t know, searching for answers and relief.
Like all storms, even when it feels like the wind won’t stop, the house will be destroyed, and the damage won’t allow for survivors, things do become still again.
The new stillness resulted in a completely changed man.
Keith has always been an introvert, but there were a long stretch where he was confined to nearly complete isolation apart from me and our immediate family.
Where once he was once passionate about nature photography, he became not only disinterested but disgusted with even the smallest conversation about his previous love. Every canvas print hanging in our house of our work was pulled off the walls.
This posed a problem because we’d built three thriving businesses all surrounding nature photography.
Keith decided to create a lawn care company called Turf Klips. While he had intended to find someone else to do the manual work while he ran the business end, it had been divinely arranged that he would be the one to do the labor.
Sometimes the biggest disappointments result in the deepest needs being filled.
He now had a daily schedule that he could control and physical labor to exert his energies. It was a buoy that became a sail.
It’s been four years since the storm. This is a blog post I’ve known I needed to write for nearly 1,460 days but was unable to relive it enough to pen these few words. Some of you know what we went through. For many others you may not have realized that Keith not only quit photography but also quit Facebook.
The aftermath has looked like counseling, changes in the way I to cook, and long seasons where we’re separated by miles with me doing workshops and him at home with the puppies. It’s looked like finding who we are again both individually and as a couple.
The recovery road hasn’t been easy, but it’s been consistent.
As I write this, I’m sitting in my parents’ home. I glanced over and saw one of Keith’s images hanging on their wall. It’s a beautiful live oak lined road, darker in the foreground with large, beautiful trees in the shadows. A dirt road takes the viewer under the dark trees into a small measure of light. If you’re eye continues, you’ll discover misty bright light in the vanishing point.
I stopped writing and stared: This is our life.
The beautiful, beloved trees that birthed our career, were in the shadows. This road hasn’t been short and it hasn’t been easy, but there have been slow consistent steps back into light. Some months things looked brighter than others. Other months held more shadows than light. But light has always come through.
In the coming days I’ll share with you more about my journey as a spouse walking through this, but for now I want to leave it here because truly this is all about Keith’s journey that he’s on. He graciously allowed for me to share this with you, hoping that it may help even one person feel a little less alone.
There was nothing that he did to ask for this storm and there was certainly no predicting it. So like all brave men, he weathered it to the best of his ability and continues to navigate uncharted waters as he rediscovers who he is.
What do you think?