Wait for It!

About the Book

Whoever said “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger” had probably not lived through the agony of losing custody of her children. Time may heal some wounds, but with this kind of profound pain, time just reminds you that your children are grown and still may not want to share a relationship. For years, as I dealt with countless questions about why I deserved to be alone, I opened myself to my own responsibility in the disaster. But there are just some questions that have no answers. During those years, I firmly believed that hell is not a place but a state of mind where you want to die but can’t. Believe me, I tried every legal avenue advised by professionals, but nothing could move the situation. My loved ones and friends were sympathetic but could provide no substantive advice beyond what too many lawyers and counselors suggested. That’s the point at which I learned the most challenging and heartbreaking lesson of my life, and it’s included in this daily devotional guide: change “expect” to “accept.” Two words so similar but heart-miles apart. So I learned to wait upon God and accept my excruciating loss, to cry when I absolutely couldn’t hold it back (which for years was most of the time) and to learn the vital lessons. Somewhere during those long years of deep sorrow, I formulated my three building blocks for living joyfully and my yardstick for evaluating levels of trust called Limits of Trustworthiness. I also invented many more coping mechanisms, like the title of this book, the process of active waiting, when there is no more I can do. Wonder of wonders, my older son made his way back to his mother on his own. The jury is still out on my younger son. Over the years of unbearable stress, friends begged me to write the story, to help other parents still grappling even now with this same horrible tragedy. I resisted, because truthfully, the wounds were so raw I couldn’t bear to touch them. I couldn’t dredge up all the unanswered questions about my part in a failed marriage, not to mention my confusion about my sons’ father, whom I discovered I really didn’t know at all. I still don’t, but at least now, it doesn’t matter. I’m ready to gently share the lessons without acrimony or hatefulness. I believe that means I’ve forgiven and am forgiven. I made it through the long, dark night of suffering. I’ve been there, done that, so I plan to use this book to teach a workshop called “Can I Be Happy?” I am exceedingly joyful to now know that with some focused practice, we all can, even in the face of indescribably painful tragedy.

About the Author

Traveling from her home sixty miles from Gettysburg, Cathwren Hermon has often walked the battlefields and felt the living presence of those who gave their last full measure of devotion there.