You Find Out Who Your Friends Are

We walked thru the house in an eerie kind of silence.  Was this really the place that I had left just three short hours earlier?  The irony of it was unbelievable.  His coffee cup and dirty breakfast plate were still in the sink, paperwork scattered on his desk, his car keys and other items he used daily lying around.  And then, there was our dog Charcoal, wagging his tail, tongue hanging out and ready to play, completely oblivious to the disaster that had taken place here.  In one moment in time, mine and my children's past, present and future had been completely altered.  No longer would we see life thru the comfort of rose colored glasses, but rather see the world for the first time in all the clarity of it's cruelty.

I wanted to be where he had been when he had drawn his last breath.  I walked hesitantly towards the den.  His chair was gone, removed by a couple of men in our church and taken out to the side of our home.  The spot where his chair had been was clean, I was expecting something way more grotesque.  The crime scene clean up crew had done an excellent job.  Then, my eyes spotted the dinner plate sized red stain on the carpet that no amount of carpet cleaner could remove.  Blood is a very strong and powerful substance, it lives forever once it has been spilled, even in circumstances where it is not visible to the naked eye.  I wanted to touch it, but refrained from doing so.  I couldn't take this anymore, I needed to get out of here, back outside, to breathe fresh air into my nostrils.

I felt a gentle touch to my shoulder.  "Excuse me Mrs. McCary but we really need to go tell your youngest daughter and check her out of school.  We don't want word of this to get to her before you have a chance to tell her."  It was the grief counselor speaking to me.  Oh God I did not want to do this!!  How was I going to tell my babygirl Haley that the father she so adored was dead, and by his own hand?  This was the moment I had been dreading from the beginning.  Someone had already made contact with Zack's Superiors and they were arranging to have the Army Chaplain to inform Zack.  So, that left Haley still to tell.

They would not let me go alone, so, Haley's best friend, and several ladies from the church and I piled into the grief counselor's car and drove to the school.  As we walked into the office it was apparent that someone had already notified the front office for which I am grateful, they were ready.  They had arranged for a school counselor to be present when I told Haley as well.  This woman would continue to work with Haley until we moved to California.  We waited in a small room while they went to get Haley from her classroom.  I paced nervously.  Haley walked into the room and at first was excited, yet confused to see her friend there.  I asked her to sit down.  By now, she was suspecting that something was terribly wrong.  I knelt down at her feet and placed my hands on her knees, whether to brace her or myself I can't say, I believe it was for both of us.  "Haley."  I said, "Daddy hurt himself today really bad and he passed away."  She just looked at me confused.  "What?"  She said.  "I don't understand."  I repeated myself, reiterating as gently as I could that Tim was dead.  And then, she put her head in her hands and sobbed.

We returned home to find my house beginning to fill up with our church family and friends there to comfort me and for me to comfort them as well.  It was comforting chaos.  There were ladies working in the kitchen, someone had gone to the store to purchase sodas, snacks, toilet paper, etc.  Ladies everywhere were on their phones, some with UPCI Headquarters, our Life Insurance Company, Zack's Superiors, etc.  I could not have done it without them that day.  At some point I went in and lay down on his side of the bed, on his pillow, wanting to smell his scent, to be near him in some small way.  In so doing, I had to brush away the remnants of his gun cleaning supplies and spare bullets, it was like a dream.......no, a nightmare.


Some of the first to arrive at my home that day were Reverend and Mrs. Stacy WIley.  They were a lifesaver for my kids and I.  Bro. Wiley just took over for me, contacting a man who had formerly attended our church who was a mortician.  They arranged to take control of Tim's body and to oversee the funeral services.  Bro. Wiley, with my permission went into our closet and chose something for Tim to wear.  I instructed him to find a black suit, white shirt and one of Tim's signature white ties, I also wanted Tim to wear the American Flag pin on his lapel that he was so fond of.

At one point Bro. Wiley asked if I wanted to see the chair?  Yes!  Yes I did!  It sounds morbid I know, and there was some controversy that day as to the wisdom of my seeing it, but I wanted to.....I NEEDED to see that chair.  It was sitting in the back of one of the men's trucks from our church, ready to be taken to the dump.  They took me to it and left me alone with it.  There, on the bottom seat cushion was a huge bloodstain.....I just stared at it.  And then, I buried my face in it.

The Smell of Gunpowder and Blood

Later my neighbors told my parents what happened.  From out of nowhere police cars, emergency vehicles and even a S.W.A.T. team converged upon our home that day.  The S.W.A.T. team members were in formation, their bullet proof shields raised and at the ready.  They would take a few paces, then drop to one knee, take a few paces, drop again until they made it across our lawn and to the front door.  Once there, and they had been given the "all clear" they entered our home.  A place that had always been my sanctuary, a place where I could be me, run around in a pair of gym shorts and one of Tim's old t-shirts was now a den of death......a possible crime scene as far as they were concerned.

I pulled my car up to the curb in front of our house and jumped out.  A police officer with a notepad and pen walked across my lawn to meet me.  "This is my house!"  I said as I stood on the sidewalk, "My husband was here alone, is he okay?"  "Are you Mrs. McCary?" he inquired, I responded that I was.  "Ma'am, we received a phone call from this residence at approximately 12:00 p.m. stating that there would be a suicide and that the doors would be unlocked."  Stunned, I responded, "That was my husband....... is he dead?"  The officer with raw emotion and compassion in his eyes looked me and said, "I'm sorry ma'am, yes he is."

I threw my head back, looked into a cloudless blue August sky and screamed and screamed and screamed.  The next thing I knew I was flat on my back on the blazing Arizona blacktop.  Seemingly from out of nowhere  the police officer and a lady that I had not even noticed helped me up off of the pavement.  "Get up ma'am." the officer said.  "We don't want you to get burned."  They sat me on the bumper of one of the emergency vehicles.  I began to tremble violently.  It was a trembling that jarred my teeth and the very core of my bones.  The lady that had helped me up introduced herself.  Her name escapes me, but she was a grief counsellor for the Avondale Police Department.  She asked me if I needed some water, if there was anyone I could call to come be with me.  At some point I snapped out of it and shifted gears into "take control" mode.  There were people I needed to call, our church family, our immediate family, our children.......oh God how was I going to tell our children?

I retrieved my phone from my purse and began making calls.  The first people I called were Tim's aunt and uncle Charles and Mary Combs, for they were the only relatives we had living in Phoenix at the time.  It just so happened that they were on the road, in Bakersfield, traveling back to Phoenix after having been in California visiting Tim's mom Cynthia.  They assured me they would turn around and head back to Turlock, calling Tim's brothers as they drove to have them meet them at Tim's mom and step dad's house to break the news.  I was so thankful, that was one call I did not want to make.  How could I tell my sweet mother in law that her oldest son had taken his own life?  Next I called Tim's personal secretary. I can recall her screaming "No!  No!  No!"  over and over and then instructing her daughter to grab her car keys, that they had to go to the McCary's house.  Next was my Pastor's wife, Sis. Keyes.  She assured me that she and Pastor Keyes would contact my family personally for me.  And finally, I had to call my daughter Kendra who was at work and tell her to come home immediately.  She was confused and kept asking me what was wrong.  I just told her she needed to come home.  I then called her fiance who is now her husband, told him what had happened and asked him to come and be there for Kendra when she arrived. Haley was at school and I would deal with that later and our son Zack and his wife were at his Army base in Kansas and I would have to go thru the proper channels in the military to contact him.  For now, I waited for them to let me into my home.

They were inside with Tim's body taking pictures, looking at blood spatter, testing his hand for gun powder residue, measuring, searching for spent shell casings.  All of that CSI stuff that you would see in a television show minus the beautiful actors and actresses, the dramatic lighting and music and the happy ending.  No, this was real and it wasn't pretty, not at all.

People began to arrive at our home.  Tim's secretary and her family, our Assistant Pastor and his wife, Kendra's boyfriend, and then, Kendra.  Everything was starting to become a blur at this point but I do recall I was talking to someone and looked over to see Kendra getting out of her car, people surrounding her, telling her, and then her nearly collapsing onto the pavement.  I remember her being held up and escorted over to me, us embracing, trembling.  At this point I had no tears, only immeasurable heartbreak and grief and an odd determination to do what I must.

They informed me that they were ready to remove Tim's body from our home and take it to the morgue.  They were concerned about distraught family members rushing the body.  I assured them to go ahead with the removal, that we would be fine.

The front door opened and I distinctly recall our Assistant Pastor behind me, his wife in front of me and they got me into some sort of bear hug, their arms interlocked around me.  People were doing the same with Kendra.  And then, suddenly, there was the stretcher carrying his lifeless form.  My mouth opened wide in an unearthly scream and my legs went limp.  Bro. and Sis. Flores were literally holding me up.  He was completely covered of course, from head to toe in a heavy burgundy blanket.  I remember thinking that it looked itchy.

They loaded his body and then they left.  Shortly thereafter they gave us the all clear to enter the house.  Afraid to go in alone I asked our Assistant Pastor and his wife and Tim's Secretary to accompany me.  As we entered thru the door leading from the garage I remember crying out "I can smell it!  I can smell it!"  Permeating thru the house was an overwhelming scent of gunpowder and the metallic, pungent, very unique smell of blood.

Police Tape and a Coroner's Truck

Tears seeped out of the corners of my eyes as the masseuse tried to massage all my worries away.  It helped, but her fingers failed to erase the emotional pain.  I took the 45 minutes to think, ponder what would become of us.  I knew deep down that the future looked bleak, but I also knew that God had the situation in His very capable Hands.  As usual, the last 10 minutes at the very end of the massage were spent sitting up on a stool as the masseuse worked on the shoulders and neck muscles.  Directly in front of me was a clock on the wall, one of those cheap, little white plastic numbers you can get at Wal Mart.  For some strange reason my eyes were drawn to that clock.  I could not peel my eyes away from the hands as they slowly ticked their way towards 12:00 noon on that Thursday.  I watched, seemingly mesmerized until the hands both aligned themselves, reaching straight up marking the hour as 12:00 p.m.  At that precise moment my massage was done and I dressed, paid and prepared to run next door to the grocery store.

Back at the house Tim meticulously cleaned his gun, leaving the cleaning supplies and extra bullets scattered thru out the blankets and sheets.  He had the presence of mind to put our black lab, Charcoal out into the back yard and our three cats, Frodo, Sesa and Hamlet into Haley's room and closed the door.  He then composed a suicide note and taped it to the screen of his laptop which was open and sitting on the table  next to his favorite chair.  He even thought to set his wallet out, with his drivers license pulled out and lying next to it so that there would be no problem identifying him.  Gunshot wounds to the head are messy and an individual cannot always be easily identified.  And then, he dialed 911 at exactly noon, telling them that there was to be a suicide at our address and that the doors would be unlocked.  And with the 911 operator still on the line, Tim put the gun to his temple, pulled the trigger and made history.  For there has never been, to our knowledge, another licensed minister of the UPCI to commit suicide, ever.

I walked the aisles of Fry's while on the phone with my concerned mother.  I tried to concentrate on what I needed to purchase for the baby shower, but just could not get my brain to cooperate.  I think I must have gone up and down the party supply aisle at least ten times before I decided upon what I wanted.  I went to the bakery and picked up the cake, checked it to make sure it said what I wanted it to say.  Finally I was done and headed toward the checkout line.  It was there at the cash register that I heard the sirens......lots of them, and they were not far, definitely in the area.  I believe I even mention to the cashier that there must be something really bad going on.  I paid, gathered my purchases, loaded them into the car and as I was pulling out of the driveway I saw Subway.  I was hungry, Tim probably was too, so I decided to grab us some lunch.

I walked into Subway and as it usually is during the lunchtime rush, the line was long.  I retrieved my cell phone and called Tim to find out what he wanted on his sandwich.  I dialed his cell and listened to it ring and ring to eventually take me to his voicemail.  I called again, same thing.  This was unusual, due to the fact that Tim always answered my calls unless he was sleeping and in that case he would turn his phone off.  During those times his phone would not even ring, but rather go directly to his voicemail.  This told me that his phone was on, but where was he?  He always kept his phone close at hand.  Perhaps he was in the shower or the restroom and had forgotten the phone.  I kept calling getting the same response.

Something didn't feel right, I had a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach.  It was almost my time to order, I called again.  This time his phone went directly to voicemail which meant he had either turned it off or the battery had died.  Why would he turn it off when he could see that I had been trying to call?  I decided to just order him what he always got.  A foot long turkey on wheat, everything on it, extra lettuce.  I placed the order, paid for the food and headed home.

As I drove, the anxious feelings increased as I turned into our neighborhood which was very near to the shopping center I had just come from.  As I made my way towards our home I turned down the street that would take me to the street we lived on.   I prepared to make a right hand turn onto our street when God spoke to me again, very clearly and very powerfully.  He simply said, "You are going to see something very bad when you turn the corner, brace yourself."

My breathing was short and rapid, my heart racing as I turned that corner.  To my horror, my house was surrounded by police tape.  Police cars and emergency vehicles were everywhere.  As I pulled up in front of my home I looked to my left, and there, parked on the side of the road across from our home was the County Coroner's truck.  I knew then that Tim was dead.

Forewarnings and Forebodings

 As I have previously mentioned, I can count on one hand the times that God has spoken to me so strongly, that I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that it was God.  Several of those occasions were in the last year of Tim's life.  God spoke to me during prayer on one occasion about a year before Tim's death and impressed upon me that we would Pastor Phoenix Revival Center for only fifteen years.  Numerous times God reiterated to me, fifteen years, fifteen years, over and over as if to brand it in my brain.  We assumed that merely meant our ministry would take a different path.  As it turns out, we DID only Pastor there for fifteen years, fifteen years and three months to be exact due to Tim's unexpected death.

Another instance of God directly communicating with me was one week and one day before Tim died.  I was so weary in mind, body and soul that I chose to stay home from church on a Wednesday night and spend some quiet time with God.  I had a lot of concerns about Tim, the church, our family, etc, and I just wanted to be alone and pray.  I knelt at our couch in the den and began to intercede and travail before the Lord  After a season of prayer, I felt the spirit of intercession lift and I got up off of my knees to make my way down the hall towards our bedroom.  In an incredibly profound way, although not audibly, the Lord spoke to me.  It stopped me in my tracks.  God simply said, "something bad is going to happen to Tim, so prepare yourself for it."  I was stunned, panicked.  It was so powerful! I could take you to the exact spot, this very minute, in our home where I was standing when God spoke to me.  I returned to the den and fell on my knees again and began to plead the blood over Tim's body.  I assumed that the extreme stress he was under could bring on a heart attack, stroke or God forbid, another debilitating breakdown.  I had no clue just how devastating the outcome would be.

The morning of Thursday, August 6th, 2009

Have you ever awakened in the morning, still groggy from sleep, yet happy, ready to begin your day only to remember something terrible that happened the day before, and to suddenly be thrust into the depths of despair?  That is an awful feeling and that is exactly what happened to me on the morning of August the 6th, 2009

I rolled out of bed, my eyes nearly swollen shut from the night before, Tim lay sleeping in the bed next to me.  I stumbled to the kitchen and performed my daily, morning rituals.  I poured my first cup of coffee and sat down at the computer.  If my memory serves me correctly, I believe I had some sweet emails and Facebook messages from some of our saints expressing concern and encouragement.  I was exhausted and still in emotional turmoil, yet strangely optimistic.  Perhaps in some ways I am an overly optimistic person.  I guess I have just always totally and completely trusted God.  I really believed that we were going to be okay, we would get thru this.  As the morning wore on, I began to feel increasingly at peace.

Tim awakened an hour or two after me and made his way into the den where I was on the computer.  I remember greeting him and asking him how he was doing.  He shrugged his shoulders and waved his hand as if to say, "I'm okay."  I recall he didn't have a lot to say considering all that had transpired the night before, he was the picture of calm, lost in his own thoughts.  I prepared him a breakfast of some cream puffs I had purchased from "Fresh and Easy" and poured his coffee.  I piddled around the kitchen as we discussed what our future held, and once again, I did most of the talking.

As he was finishing his breakfast I explained to him that I had some errands to run as I had a baby shower I was hosting for one of our ladies that night in our church fellowship hall.  I expressed my hesitation to go to the baby shower, not knowing the response I would get.  I was embarrassed.  Again, I was met with silence.  As I walked to our bedroom, I left Tim sitting in his favorite chair, his laptop open and on his lap.

I showered, dressed and gathered my things.  I had a cake to pick up as well as a gift, decorations and other food items.  I had decided that while I was at it I would stop in at a little asian massage place that was right next to the Fry's grocery store that I frequented.  I desperately needed to relax.  I grabbed my purse and keys and as I made my way towards our garage door that led to the car I called out to Tim. " I love you, call me if you need me, I'll see you in a while, goodbye!"  It wasn't until later that day that I realized he never responded.

The Valley Of The Shadow Death

His personality changed, it seemed as though his judgement became poor.  He made decisions that he would later regret and attempt to reverse.  Unfortunately, that was easier said than done.  Trust had been broken, confidence lost.  It started to wear and tear on our children, on me.......on him.

On a Monday morning after a particularly stressful Sunday, we sat on the couch, considering our options.  Where do we go from here?  How do we fix this?  I felt I  had a solution.  I proposed that we resign the church, move back to California and just regroup, refresh ourselves.  He was not opposed to the idea.  We began to discuss the possibilities.  Who would take the church?  What would we do for  income?  Needless to say this was something we talked about for days.

 We both felt strongly that the man to take the church in the event we resigned should be my cousin, Reverend Delmon Sansom.  He was above reproach in character and had proved himself to be faithful.  In recent days we had been in close contact with my Pastor Reverend Randy G. Keyes from Modesto California as well as Reverend Mike Williams and several other renowned men of God who had reached out to Tim.  Bro. Keyes had also contacted Dr. Hughes, (a Dr. and Minister in our movement) to fly out to Arizona to evaluate and treat Tim.  Pastor Keyes agreed that resignation was wise and he offered us a place at Modesto Revival Center.  I was excited about the prospects of moving back home and having family support, and to be quite frank, I was anxious to no longer Pastor, I was done.

We made the decision, introduced our plan to the church and moved forward.  It was one of the most difficult things we had ever done in our lives.  The church did not understand, there was a lot of chaos and confusion.  How could they understand?  They had no idea what we had been battling for years, how it had affected our family.  As time went on, we were more and more convinced that our time at PRC was over, but Tim became increasingly agitated, worried about our future.

During the week of the election Tim did not sleep well.  He would lay for hours on our couch staring at the ceiling, or out in the backyard swinging a golf club.  He made unreasonable demands of the incoming Pastor, demands that he and I would argue about clear up until the election on that Wednesday night.  I could not make him see reason.

Wednesday, August 5th, 2009

The night of the election came.  We were to meet with our church board, Bro. Sansom and the District Superintendent. Tim asked me to accompany him to the meeting, I did so hesitantly.  It did not go well.  As I had suspected, and forewarned, his demands were unfair and unacceptable.

I was shocked when he violently pushed up out of his chair, grabbed me by the arm and headed down the stairs that led from our board room and towards the sanctuary where many of our saints had already gathered for the election.  Scared and confused I broke away from him and looked to our Board members for direction.  They were equally as shocked and as confused as I.  And then, I ran after him in an attempt to stop him.  By the time I entered the Sanctuary he was already behind the podium addressing the congregation.    I was stunned to hear him inform them that there would be no election, that he would not allow it.  I made my way down the aisle towards him, totally focused on just getting him out of there.  From the corner of my eye I could see our Assistant Pastor making his way to the podium in an attempt to circumvent the situation, to reassure our saints, to inform them that in fact, there would be an election.

I grabbed him by the arm and said "Let's go."  He resisted at first, trying to free his arm from my grasp.  I hung on.  Finally, I was able to literally force him down the aisle, thru the lobby, out the door and into our car.  "Drive!" I told him, "just drive home."  The shock, fear and confusion on the faces of our saints remains with me to this day.

I was sobbing hysterically.  It's a blur, but I believe I called my mother.  We arrived home and I collapsed onto our couch, he into his chair in our den, and we just sat there, shell shocked.  In one evening we had lost it all.  Everything we had worked so hard for, for so many years lay as rubble, ashes at our feet. ( Before I proceed, let me reiterate that I hold absolutely NO ONE accountable for the demise of my husband's ministry or his untimely death.  I am not bitter at any individuals or God for the sad turn of events.  Tim's decisions and actions were his and his alone.)  I was hysterical but Tim was oddly calm.  At some point, I picked up the phone and made a call to my Pastor's wife, Sis. Keyes.  She tried to calm me down, instructed us to get some rest and that Bro. Keyes would contact us in the morning.

Tim headed to our bedroom, sat down at his desk.  I don't know what he did there for I was on my kitchen floor in a fetal position.  I rolled around, howled and screamed out to God for at least forty five minutes before I worked up the strength to stand up and stumble to our bedroom and our bed.  To this day, I have never experienced such raw, horrific emotional pain.  Everything I loved was gone!!

I crawled into bed that night, a zombie, wasted and spent.  The last thing I saw before I lay my head on my pillow was Tim, slumped over his desk, his medications sitting before him.  My last thought was, "God, don't let him take all of those pills."  And then, blessed sleep came.

A confrontation with God

I was in the restroom at church when I heard the commotion from the sanctuary.  While washing my hands  my daughter rushed in to tell me that Tim had fallen.  I hurried in to find Tim sitting in his chair on the platform, people gathered around him.  He had fallen for no reason at all.  From what I was told, he was just walking across the platform and fell flat on his face.  I felt so badly for him.  A short time later we were sleeping soundly one night when I heard a tremendous crash and what sounded like a melon hitting the nightstand on Tim's side of the bed.  I flew out of the bed!  Tim was not there!  I ran around the end of the bed and there he was in a heap on the floor.  I screamed and ran to him fearing the worst.  He moaned and held his head, telling me that he had fallen out of the bed.  I inquired if I should dial 911, but he assured me he was okay.  I remember helping him back into the bed, my heart squeezing in my chest with pity for him.  Why were these things happening to him?  I still don't have an answer.  I tucked him in like a child, pulled the covers up under his chin and kissed him on the forehead.  My heart breaks when I recall his words to me before he drifted off to sleep.  "Thanks for not being mad at me."  Even now it brings a rush of tears.

As part of his duties for the Apostolic Man Ministry and their magazine, Tim was required to attend meetings several times a year at the UPCI Headquarters in St. Louis Missouri.  He went I believe in May, only a few short months before his death.  The day of his return will forever be burned into my memory.  I had just put my bathing suit on to go out and clean our pool when he called to tell me he was almost home from the airport.  He told me was very tired and wanted to go straight to bed when he arrived home.  He walked thru the door and at first nothing seemed out of the ordinary.  I did notice however that he was extremely disheveled, dark circles under his eyes, unshaven, etc.  And then, Tim began to exhibit the most bizarre behavior.

He hurried thru the house closing all the blinds, checking and double checking the locks on all the doors.  He proceeded to tell me not to answer the door or the phone making statements like "you never know who's watching, you can't trust anyone," etc.  It was at that point I noticed he had a wild and glazed look in his eye.  The phone rang and he yelled, "don't answer it, don't answer it!"  By now I was really starting to freak out but tried to remain calm.  I had him sit down in his favorite chair and made him something to drink.  I began to question him about his meetings and how they went, anything to keep him talking.  I wondered if perhaps something had transpired there that put him into this state of mind.

He began to ramble.  His statements were very disjointed and made no sense.  He started to cry, apologizing for things he felt guilty about in our marriage or as a parent, then just as quickly, he would stop crying and start rambling again.  I could not make sense of anything he was saying.  I was on the verge of retrieving my cell phone, dialing 911 and having an ambulance come.  I was ready to do just that when Tim's cell phone rang, it was Reverend Mike Williams, Director of the Apostolic Man Ministry.  Once I saw that Tim would be able to talk to Brother Williams coherently, I snuck my cell phone out to the pool with me.  I got into the pool under the guise that I was cleaning it, and for the first time in 26 years, I called Tim's mom and asked for her help and advice.

"Mom, this is Shawnacee and I need you to pray right now, Tim is really, really bad."  We prayed and I tried to explain to her Tim's behavior.  You must remember, his mother knew very little about the severity of Tim's illness.  I had done my best not to worry her with it.  While I was still on the phone, Tim came out to the pool, still in his suit, rambling and crying again.  I got out of the pool and took him into the house.  He eventually began to calm down as I helped him to undress and get into bed.  He was hungry so I went into the kitchen to prepare one of his favorites, peaches and cottage cheese.  I had a ladies meeting that evening, so I hurried and dressed, still beside myself with worry.  The picture of him lying in bed that night looking at me with tears streaming down his face as I left for my meeting will forever haunt me.

Tim slept for almost two days following that episode.  A week or so later he brought it up and apologized for scaring me.  I told him that I had been tempted to call for an ambulance.  He pleaded with me to never do that, saying his ministry would be ruined if that ever happened.  I begged him to see a psychiatrist.  He had been treated for years by his general practitioner but I felt that Dr. Thacker was ill equipped to properly treat   Tim.  I pleaded with him but he was in total denial, he did not want to hear what I had to say.  I believe that at that time, Tim suffered a "complete" and final nervous breakdown.

Several weeks passed and Tim seemed to have calmed down and was back into his normal daily schedule.  I recall one day in particular when I was unusually discouraged, disturbed.  I lay down next to Tim, hoping to take a little nap.  I could not sleep, my mind was racing, I was at the end of my rope.  I got up out of bed and threw some clothes on and jumped into my car.  I drove to my "hangout" Borders Bookstore, but did not go inside, I just sat there in the parking lot, air conditioner blowing cold on that hot, late June day........and God and I had it out.

I began to beat the steering wheel, seven years of pent up emotion erupted.  Tears streamed down my face as I pointed my finger at the sky and began to scream, "God if you have never heard me before, hear me now......it is over!!  Today, I draw a line in the sand God!"  I reminded God of our many years of faithful service, of the things we had sacrificed for His work, and I reminded him of His word.  I screamed, sobbed, ranted and raved at God for at least thirty minutes.  Anyone who saw me must have thought I was insane. Finally, completely exhausted from my outburst I lay my head on my steering wheel.  Chest heaving, tears and sweat pouring down my face, I sat, listening to the silence.  And in that silence, I felt the awesome, powerful presence of God and  I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that I had gotten the attention of the Almighty.  I knew that He had seen and heard His pitiful, weary, exhausted and confused child.  Completely spent, I drove home.

The Beginning Of The End - Part 2

I cried myself to sleep most nights, the salty tears pooling in my ears.  Often I would gently put my hand on his forehead while he lay sleeping and plead the blood over him.  Asking God to deliver us from this disease that gripped both his mind AND his body, interceding for him.  On several occasions I lay on my back in bed in the wee hours praying, reaching my arms out to God as though the Almighty could reach down and physically embrace me, all the while mouthing my silent prayer, "I want my husband back!"  I would ponder our future with heartbreak.  I could not imagine living the rest of our lives this way.  I was fearful that as Tim aged, his symptoms would only intensify.  I considered the fact that the children would mature, marry, have families and lives of their own, and where would that leave me?.  I could not bare the thought of the extreme loneliness to come.  One of my greatest fears was that I would contract a terminal or debilitating disease.......who would care for ME?  I knew that Tim was unable to, and I had no immediate family in Arizona, it was a valid concern of mine.  I can recall escaping into the shower.  So weary,  leaning my head against the cool tiles as the water streamed down my face to mingle with my tears, my mouth opened wide in a whispered scream, hands balled into fists beating the walls.  Tired,  frustrated, lonely and scared, I became a master of disguise.

In March of '09 our son Zachary and our beautiful daughter in law Sylvia were married.  Sylvia is from my hometown of Modesto California, so, the wedding was to be held there.  I was busy, scurrying around making preparations, as Zack and Sylvia had asked me to coordinate the entire event.  There was excitement in the air amidst all the preparations and Tim was excited about performing the ceremony for our firstborn and his bride!

  Approximately two weeks before we were to depart for California which would be a 10  to a 12 hour drive, Tim became very, very ill.  It was the same symptoms all over again......the chest pains, breathlessness, lightheadedness, the burning.  We made a Doctors appointment and once again, the Doctor found nothing wrong with Tim's heart, lungs or blood pressure, everything pointed to his anxiety disorder.  As the days passed he became worse and worse and I honestly did not think he would make the trip.  He was not sleeping well, awake all night at times.  Somehow, we made it, but Tim was deathly ill.  Once we arrived in Modesto he slept most of the time until the evening of the ceremony.  I was beside myself with concern as I sat in the pew during the wedding and watched Tim, white as a sheet, trembling, barely able to get thru the ceremony!  Here was my husband, a man known nationally for his oratory abilities barely able to put two words together.  He had performed this same ceremony countless times, yet he forgot key portions and stumbled over his words.  To say the least, I breathed a sigh of relief when bride and groom finally kissed.  My parents told me later that longtime family friends and extended family members left the wedding deeply concerned about Tim.  For the first time, people began to ask questions, they could sense that something was terribly wrong, Tim was not the same person they had known for years.  Tim stayed with his mother while we were there and he later told me that he was so ill the day following the wedding that he literally could not physically get out of bed.....he could not make his body obey.  I firmly believe that Tim suffered his second breakdown at that time.

A couple of weeks later, Zack and Sylvia were driving thru Arizona on their way back to Kansas which is where Zack was stationed in the Army.  They had to pass thru Flagstaff and they called and asked us to meet them there for dinner.  Flagstaff is a couple of hours from Phoenix, and for some reason I do not recall, I could not make the dinner date, so, Tim and our youngest daughter Haley went without me.  In retrospect, I believe that this was part of God's master plan as this was the last time Haley and her dad would spend quality alone time together.

They met Zack and Sylvia at a restaurant and had dinner.  Zack later told me that it was the most awkward time he had ever had with his dad.  Tim was silent most of the meal, and when he did speak he would ask the same questions over and over.  Needless to say, Zack was extremely concerned.  He and Sylvia discussed Tim's behavior the entire way home to Kansas.  It was the last time Zack would see his father alive.

I believe it was the following April or May that I became seriously alarmed.  For some unknown reason it was as though Tim shifted gears into warp speed.  He was not sleeping during the day, he was cleaning everything it sight, and talking 90 miles an hour.  We would try to have a conversation and I would have to ask him to slow down, to repeat him self over and over.  Strangely enough, also at this time, he seemed to have extreme clarity of the mind.  It was as though I had the old Tim back!  It seemed for that moment in time he had awakened from a dream and realized what had been going on and he sensed the stress that the kids and I were enduring.  He even addressed this topic with me, apologizing and promising to do better.  One afternoon I walked into the kitchen to find roses on the counter.  The note he left me read "For putting up with me.  Love, Tim."  I had mixed emotions, I was happy, yet concerned, something wasn't right, I had never seen him like this before.  I called Zack and told him "I'm worried about your dad, he's driving me crazy, cleaning up a storm, talking very, very fast......I don't know what to do!"  To a degree it was humorous and we got a good laugh out of it, but Zack had no answers either.  For the first time, I revealed things to Zack about his dad's illness I never had before.   Zack also shared with me his concerns about his father after their dinner together in Flagstaff.  Zack was aware that Tim was unwell, but was shocked to hear the severity of it.  This phase with Tim lasted only a few days.  Before long, he was back to his normal self, sleeping all day, lethargic, uncommunicative, etc.   I still cannot explain what happened.

In my studies of nervous and complete nervous breakdowns I have discovered that two prominent symptoms are feelings of grandiosity and feelings of extreme worthlessness.  I was stunned at the accuracy of this tidbit of information.  Out of respect, I will not delve too deeply into the matter of feelings of grandiosity, but suffice it to say that having learned this explains several situations that I observed early on in Tim's illness.  In the last months of his life however, any self confidence was replaced by severely low self esteem and the feeling that no one respected him.  He was spiraling out of control and taking me with him.