Three-Part Stories
Amy Tromba
PART 1
Hi, my name is Amy Tromba. I’m a retired military spouse of 30 years that included 15 moves from Alaska to Rhode Island. I was blessed to have the opportunity to be a stay home mom when my 2 boys were young and then completed my teaching degree at 47, a year after my youngest son graduated from high school so I could work as an educator.
My husband & I met at a Mormon church over 37 years ago & were married in the DC Mormon temple. Both of us came from very tumultuous childhoods so we were determined to break generational abuses and raise our family in the Mormon faith, but little did we know that God had a different plan.
While stationed in California in 1995, I would take walks with my Christian neighbor, Paula, & we would talk about our differing faiths. She asked me one day, “Amy, don’t answer right now but do you really know who Jesus Christ is?”
I went home mad. Jesus Christ is in the title of the Mormon church. How could she question if I knew who Jesus Christ was? She should be the one questioning if she really knows Jesus Christ. I was determined to read the King James Bible cover to cover to share scriptures with her that would prove how wrong she was. Then I could bring her to the truth of the Mormon church. I pictured her gratitude towards me. I felt like such a good neighbor. But Hebrews 12:2 changed everything. It talks about Jesus being the author & finisher of our faith, enduring the cross, despising its shame. Then He sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.
When someone sits down it’s normally because they’re finished with something. Then Jesus’ last words on the cross hit me, “It is finished!” The gospel was completed at the cross. No additional scripture was needed including the Book of Mormon. I was overwhelmed by all the untruths I had embraced for many years. All the good works I had done to earn my salvation.
I dropped to my knees & confessed my need for a Savior as my oldest 1-year old son napped & my husband & neighbor were out of town. I later learned that my husband had a similar experience just 2 weeks prior. He didn’t tell me because he could see how God was working in my heart & he didn’t want me to feel any pressure from him to accept Christ as my Savior. Together, God had freed us from the enslavement of working for our salvation. But now what?
PART 2
I was scared. My faith foundation had crumbled. How was I supposed to rebuild it? It took a lot of unlearning falsehoods I had embraced for many years in the Mormon church but with God’s Word & the Holy Spirit, my husband & I were able to grow together in the freedom that comes from building our faith on the foundational truth of God’s gospel. We were overjoyed as we watched both of our boys accept Christ as their Savior. Like the daisy that has a yellow center with multiple petals extending out, we were a family of faith with Christ at the center. Anything we did was an extension of Christ’s love and grace. I celebrated God’s ability to break generational abuses with my beautiful family. I was living the Leave It to Beaver life with the white picket fence and window flower boxes. But even that would come crumbling down.
My youngest son left for college & began to embrace different ideologies of the world. He went from being atheist to agnostic, bisexual to non-binary. Over the next nine years, we listened as he shared his new beliefs, quit college, moved back home, joined the military, moved to a different state & married. We responded with prayer, asking God for opportunities to plant seeds of truth, loving & supporting him in action without compromising our faith. It was a fine line.
He changed his pronouns. We continued to love and pray. He changed his first name. We continued to love and pray. He changed his last name. We continued to love and pray. In every choice, he distanced himself further and further from his connection and identity to us & God. We never ended our relationship with him even though his choices cut us to our core, but we asked for mutual respect despite our differences. We explained we loved him dearly, but it didn’t mean we had to honor his decisions since they conflicted with God’s truth. He left a voicemail that he needed to step away from us to focus on himself. He said “when and if” he decided to come back, he would let us know. And then he blocked us from all communication.
I never knew your heart could be crushed and you’d still be able to breath. I was devastated. God says He keeps count of our tossings and puts our tears in His bottle (Psalm 56:8). He would need a bottle the size of a silo for my tears alone.
I began to question myself as a mother. My career, my life’s work, was raising my boys. They were my Sistine chapel. I desired to leave a legacy void of family brokenness with God at the center of all challenges. But I had a success rate of 50%. I failed. My window box flowers wilted. My white picket fence came crumbling down. I was chained by my pain, guilt, shame & worry.
PART 3
God created us to be free. Jesus died on the cross so we could choose to be free from death, sin and anything else that might enslave us. I was chained down by the adult choices my son was making and taking responsibility for sin I was not responsible for but how was I going to experience God’s freedom when my flesh and blood was choosing to turn away from Him?
Just as the prodigal son’s father didn’t chase down his son begging him to return home but continued with his daily tasks looking to the horizon for his return, I had to let my son go in the same way. I had planted God’s seeds of truth for 27 years. That’s more than some parents get. I needed to focus on how God has been good to me and trust Him to provide for my son in His way.
In the meantime, I went and bought a journal to write to my son in his absence. I write my prayers, hopes and fears to him as if he is sitting in the same room with me. I don’t know if he will ever read my words, but I know I will never give up on him just as I know God hasn’t either. Even though I am in the blind about what is happening in his daily life, I know I cannot take responsibility for his choices. God hasn’t called me to carry that cross. Jesus already did and I am not Jesus. There was great freedom as I laid my son’s future at the feet of Jesus.
Although I wanted a Leave It to Beaver Life for my family, Jesus had never promised a life free of challenges, but He did promise to be with me always. I miss my son every day. I don’t know what the future holds for him, but I do know God created him for a purpose and he is worthy of God’s forgiveness and love. As I told him from childhood on, God does not make mistakes. All His creation is wonderfully made, including him. Difficulties are part of this world; perfection will come in heaven. I am learning to embrace the beauty of imperfections because they highlight my daily need for God who will provide just what I need at just the right time and that is freeing.
Ladies, maybe you’re feeling weighed down by life’s struggles, feeling alone, overwhelmed and in deep pain from the past or present, but I have learned that the heaviness of those difficulties are designed to drive you into deeper intimacy with God. Just as gold is placed in extreme heat and pressure to remove impurities, we are being refined daily. We have a living hope in Jesus, an inheritance that is imperishable, undefiled and unfading, kept in heaven for us (1 Peter 1:3-4). This living hope is my freedom. I don’t have all the answers, but I do have the presence of His perfect peace. I pray you do to.
Lisa Brass
PART 1
Hi, I am Lisa Brass, and I work part-time at a church in Hampton, VA. I am married and home-educating my youngest of three boys; pray for me, the homeschooling finish line is in sight. I was born in 1968 to a single woman, and I thank God she chose life despite the onset of manic depression in her early twenties. Although I was very young, I remember my mama's mental health significantly impairing her ability to be a stable parent and employee. I observed my mom’s periods of intense mania and depression. These cycles varied in frequency and duration. Making peace with such a life-altering diagnosis was difficult for Mama.
She went through a season of rejecting the need to take daily medication, which led to a long, tumultuous rollercoaster ride for both of us, yet God never left us; we just weren't aware of His presence. Provision came as God helped my mom provide for my needs and even for many extracurricular activities. There was a lot of fun included on the bumpy bipolar road. But as a little girl, I also saw my mother when she was not in touch with reality.
Etched in my memory are many manic behaviors, including irritability and unpredictable conduct, causing her to behave impulsively, make reckless decisions, and take unusual risks. I vividly remember her once test-driving a new car and trying to keep it; police officers were sent to retrieve it from her. That was scary, embarrassing, and traumatic. There would be more trauma to come on the bumpy road lined with mental illness.
PART 2
Because of her erratic behavior, I was often placed in positions where I had to make adult choices and decisions. Those times were extremely stressful, resulting in several short-term stays with relatives and in foster homes. Eventually, I lived permanently with a longtime family friend when I was about 13 or 14.
This created a rift in my relationship with my momma. My mother grew jealous and resentful of the tight-knit bond that developed between my bonus mom and me. She and I never regained the closeness we once shared as mother and daughter. By God's grace, during our time apart, she submitted to the need for daily medication therapy and psychiatric monitoring. She continued to have episodes, but at a lesser frequency.
Being removed from my mother brought me relief from responsibilities that were beyond my age and stage of life, providing the stability I needed. Before my removal, seeds of frustration and anger had developed in me over the years; I recall having a few explosive outbursts in childhood. I was hurt by the years she rejected taking her medication daily, but I chose to forgive, understanding that she had a lifelong illness. God was at work for me when I didn't even realize it. I grew to be very independent and self-reliant.
Because I had no father, I never felt protected. I think I always felt vulnerable and exposed internally. I had no concept of the love of an earthly father. Everything was on me: my choices, my advocacy, my competency. Where was Father God in all of this?
PART 3
My mother always wanted to be married, and the Lord made her a minister's wife at 50. Early in their marriage, she experienced one severe episode but remained overall stable throughout their 12 years together. He passed away in 2007 at 88. After losing her husband, Mom lived stably, active in the church, the community, and her Red Hat Society group.
Although I was raised with an awareness of God and some biblical foundation, I became a Christ follower during my sophomore year in college. At the time of their marriage, I was an adult who eventually married at 35 and started a family of my own a few years before she became a widow. Because of Christ and the work of the Holy Spirit, our relationship significantly improved.
Although we continue to struggle at times, in 2021, it became unsafe for her to live alone due to her mental and physical functioning. Once again, I needed to step in and make arrangements for her care. She moved to Virginia to be closer to me, and through the difficult days, I learned to rely more on God. I often felt the burden of caring for Mom was entirely mine. I continued surrendering Mama to the Lord because the burden was too heavy. I knew that He loved her and would ultimately be the one to take care of her. On March 24th, after a short illness, God took Mama home to Himself.
God guided us through the wilderness to victory! She is now free mentally, physically, and emotionally. Mom experienced God through her journey with mental illness. I have experienced God as a daughter who learned to trust Him in tough times. Through it all, God has taught me how to lament while trusting in and depending on Him. He has shown me clearly that He is my Father and that He is enough. Ladies, no matter the circumstances or the challenges we face, He promises to never leave us nor forsake us if we abide in Him. I am evidence that He is true to His word. He will do the same for you if you surrender everything to Him.
Adria Wilkins
PART 1
I started journaling when our second child, Blake, was born. He was born with multiple medical problems, which included spina bifida and Arnold-Chiari. He was able to come home after 100 days with 24-hour home health care. He was on a ventilator and couldn’t move from his waist down. In the beginning days, I woke up one morning with the song, In His Time, God makes all things beautiful in His time. The song is from the verse in Ecclesiastes 3:11. I claimed that verse, and I was looking for a special journal to remember all the good and not-so-good days. One day, I was in a shop at the hospital, and I found the journal. The front said, God makes all things beautiful in his time. I held it to my chest because I knew God gave it to me at just the right time. I journaled about the 100’s of people who sent cards, provided meals, prayers, and support. I recorded specific details of what people did to help us get through long, hard days. That is what is great about journaling in the moment because it gives us these little windows of time that mark special memories that we may forget.
God is writing parts of our story every day.
The story took a turn just before Blake’s 3rd birthday.
We were at work. I returned home and found an ambulance at my home. The nurse couldn’t get Blake’s trach back in, so he went without air for several minutes. The EMS people were able to get his airway open and back on the ventilator. He was flown to Dallas, TX and we had to make a decision because our little Blake didn’t want to be touched and wouldn’t open his eyes.
PART 2
When we become a parent, we don’t think that we might one day schedule the date and time of our child’s passing. On Blake’s last day, Dr Silver, our pulmonologist, came into the hospital room and shared medical stuff, and he said he was there to make this transition as easy as possible. Then he turned to the paper towels and said, “Now I am going to cry. Our world is full of hate, evil, and war, and Blake only knew love. If our world had a tenth of the love that Blake did, our world would be a different place.”
I didn’t know if I wanted to be in the room when he passed, but many doctors encouraged us to be in there. I held Blake, and my husband sat next to me. The doctors gave him some medicine to relax. We told Blake, “It’s okay to go home.” I laid Blake in the hospital bed after he passed, and he was peaceful and looked like he was taking a nap. My husband and I walked out of the room. My husband hugged me and said, “I love you more today than ever.” I said, “I feel joy!” And felt a burden released from me. I didn’t have to worry about whether he would pass this day or that. I didn’t have to make medical appointments and order medical supplies. I didn’t have to worry whether we would have a nurse that day.
PART 3
Blake's life caused me to see life through a different lens. To stop and notice creation and all the details that God put into everything. I continued to journal and write devotions for mom’s group and women’s events. Sixteen years later, I began working with an editor and attending writers’ conferences. Right before what would have been my son’s 20th birthday, my book was published. My book, The Joy Box Journal, encourages people to look for joy no matter what they are going through. One of my favorite pages in the book is the dedication page to my son, Blake. I remember writing and weeping as I wrote the dedication page, as my book was in the final publishing stage. It felt like it sealed the deal on my book.
I didn’t realize when I wrote a book that speaking is part of being an author. I found that I enjoyed and got energy when sharing how God has worked in our lives, and His glory was shown through Blake’s life. I have found that when I reflect on all God has brought us through. It brings me joy! I enjoy writing about the everyday moments that make me smile, laugh, or even stop and say Hmm. Now, almost 25 years later, little Blake’s story continues to touch lives.
What’s your story? What imprint will you leave on this world?