“My Spouse Just Died.” Good Grief Ministries.

“Good Grief”

A True Story of Love,

Loss, and New Life

Sue Borrows LaRue

~with Diane Brown

Forward by Diane Brown

When Suzie and I began working together, I knew very little about her. I had suffered loss but wasn’t prepared for the depth of her anguish. Though I wasn’t raised with an understanding of God’s personal plan and love for each of us and did not know about the reality of the Holy Spirit and His activity in our world, God was about to reveal Himself to me through her journey.

Her walk of faith is an intimate one. No matter what, Jesus has always been “MY Jesus” to Suzie. Just as King David addressed the Lord God Almighty as “My Lord,” Sue says “My Jesus” with all the reverence, adoration, and depth of feeling of one calling out my Dearest, my Beloved, or my friend. Throughout her life, Jesus has been her Shepherd, Savior, and Hope of Glory. To Suzie, He is, and has always been, “Emmanuel, God with Us.”

Her story is one of disappointment and grief, of crying out to Him in distress; of asking, hoping, waiting, and trusting. Ultimately hers is a story of transformation. The Bible says, “Eye has not seen, nor ear heard, nor have entered into the heart of man the things which God has prepared for those who love Him.” (1 Corinthians 2:9, NKJV) Suzie could not have created or attained for herself the solace and provision that God has freely given to her. I have witnessed His miraculous presence and leading in her life, and my faith has grown exponentially.

The Good News is that God is no respecter of persons. Jesus promises all who call on Him: “Ask, it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock and it will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives, and he who seeks finds, and to him who knocks, it will be opened.” (Matthew 7:7–8, NIV) If we receive Him, His Word assures us, “Then you will experience God’s peace, which exceeds anything we can understand. His peace will guard your hearts and minds as you live in Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 4:7, NLT)

This is what Suzie did. She sought the Lord and He answered her. She received His surpassing peace and so much more. I hope as you read, you dare to believe that the Lord Suzie loves loves you, and that His saving grace, mercy, comfort, and transforming power are available to all. May her story inspire you, as it has inspired me, to seek God. And just as Suzie did, may you come to trust Him to fulfill His unique purpose for your life which will surely exceed all that you could ever ask, imagine, or think.

“And we know that God causes all things to work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called according to His purpose.” (Romans 8:28, NKJV)

Prologue

Wow! I just can’t tell you what this three-year writing venture has meant to me. Looking back at God’s incredible presence in the midst of my grief has healed my heart and grown my relationship with God. I hope that whether you have zero faith or “mustard seed”-sized faith, you will walk away with oversized faith. It was only because of the Lord’s prompting and gentle nudging that this book has come to be. I have tried to be open and real throughout. I’m a bit spunky by nature. I love to laugh. I love my Jesus more than I can ever express with mere words.

You may find some of the stories hard to believe, but every word is true; the laughter, tears, brokenness, fears, meltdowns, and victory. The purpose of this book is to show you not only how real God is, but also how much He loves you. He gave His life for you and with that kind of investment, you can trust His love for you and His ability to draw out of you what I know He’s planted in you just as He has done in me. He is personally interested in all of us, and wants to work in a deeper way in our lives. I invite you to experience the revealing hand and the tangible presence of God throughout this story. Enjoy!

Dedication

This book is dedicated to the Lord Jesus Christ, Daryle Wayne Borrows, and C. Diane LaRue.

To my son Rick: thank you for your strong arm of love and protection and your many hugs. I love you, my son. To my daughter, Stephanie, and my son-in-law, Kevin: there are no words to describe how grateful I am for your unfailing love. Steph, you were my rock. To my granddaughter Madelyn: you will never know the comfort and joy you brought to my hurting heart. You were a little light in the darkness. To my granddaughter Rebekah: you are a precious gift who ushered a new season of God’s grace into my life. You both bring such happiness. My love for you is indescribable.

Huge thanks to my parents Randy and Jessie Hart. I could not have gotten through all this without your constant love and support. You did anything I needed without question or complaint. You were there for me in every way, literally. I am forever grateful. I love you both very much.

To my sister Tracey: thank you for relentlessly praying and reaching out to me when it wasn’t easy. You were always there for me. I love you. To my niece Taylor: thank you for being a refuge during our girls’ nights. You are such a blessing to me. To my nephew Kacey: you were always ready to help me with anything. You never said “No.” Thank you. To my brother Paul: thank you for all your loving advice, your care and concern. No one could make me laugh through my tears like you.

To Daryle’s family: I love you all.

To my best friend Michelle: I am eternally grateful for you and for being there 24/7 through the storm. To my dear friends, Jan and Dan: I am amazed at how the Lord used you both to bless my life. I thank you and love you. To Veronica, my dear friend: your powerful prayers and words of encouragement enriched my life. To my late friend Debbie R.: she was faithful to deliver a word from the Lord to encourage our hearts I will always be grateful.

To Megan and Ryan: you are a blessing from God. To my granddaughter Jade: you light up my life. To Ben, Elizabeth, Elijah, and Lucie: Thank you for the laughter you bring. I am honored to journey together in this next season of life with you. Thank you for your kindness to me. I love you all.

To my editor Diane Brown: what a beautiful conduit you are. Your ability to hear the Holy Spirit, to capture our thoughts, to preserve our voice, and to guide our story was exceptional! I love you.

Special thanks to Reverend David and Kathy Walker, Reverend Nathan Pimentel and Pastor John Costa. I love you all. To my “H2” Bruce Wayne LaRue: my heart is yours.

Part One

Life with My Love

Chapter 1

The “Good” Life

Life with Daryle was good. Little did we realize that our “good life” was about to take a devastating and grueling turn that began with a simple question….

“Mr. Borrows. Who is the president of the United States?” asked the nurse at St. Luke’s Hospital as she stood behind the dull, scratched, Plexiglas partition. My heart pounded rapidly as my eyes met my mom’s and we peered into Daryle’s face. As I waited for Daryle to answer, I knew we were in trouble. The emergency room clamor faded as we honed in on Daryle counting his fingers. After what felt like an eternity, he finally said, “Obama.” The look on his face seemed to indicate he wasn’t certain of his answer, but went with it anyway.

“What day is it?” “What month is it?” “Do you know your birthday?” Question after question determined that he needed immediate attention. After the interrogation was over, I asked him, “Honey, why did it take you so long to answer about the president?” He responded, “I was counting back from President Reagan.”

My heart sank! May 7, 2012 quickly became, and is now forever etched in my mind as, the most frightening and longest day of my life. Earlier in the week, Wednesday, May 2, we were at Bible study, and our pastor abruptly stopped speaking in the middle of his lesson, looked up from his notes, and said, “The Lord just told me to share Psalm 46:1–10. It’s for someone here.” These verses state:

1 God is our refuge and strength,
an ever-present help in trouble.
2 Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way
and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea,
3 though its waters roar and foam
and the mountains quake with their surging.
4 There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God,
the holy place where the Most High dwells.
5 God is within her, she will not fall;
God will help her at break of day.
6 Nations are in uproar, kingdoms fall;
he lifts his voice, the earth melts.
7 The Lord Almighty is with us;
the God of Jacob is our fortress.
8 Come and see what the Lord has done,
the desolations he has brought on the earth.
9 He makes wars cease to the ends of the earth.
He breaks the bow and shatters the spear;
he burns the shields with fire.
10 He says, “Be still, and know that I am God.”
~ Psalm 46:1–10, NIV

I turned to Daryle and said, “Gee, I hope that’s not for us!”

On Friday, May 4th, Daryle came home from work exhausted, complaining that his job was killing him. He was tripping over his own feet, confused and cranky. I said, “Love, jump in the shower. Have some dinner. Let me rub your back. Then just get some sleep. That will help.”

Feeling a bit better the next day, Daryle hoped to fulfill his commitment to drive some men to a church convention. Though he didn’t really feel well enough to go, he did it anyway. The drive to their destination took an hour and a half. An hour into the convention, he called me and asked, “Can you come get me? I have a terrible headache.” My best friend Michelle happened to be at my house, so we hopped in the car and drove to him.

He slept all the way home, and then slept into the night. Waking up the next morning, he said he felt a little better, so he began to prepare for our Sunday service at church where he was the worship leader. Once at church he began practicing, but when I arrived a little later and went to check on him, I could not find him anywhere. I received a text from him explaining that he had to go home to change his clothes because he had had an “accident.” He expressed his frustration with his body because he just couldn’t understand what was happening. Nor could I.

Just a couple of months before, we had taken time off for our wedding anniversary. We went out of town, stayed in a hotel, went out to dinner and to a jazz concert, and lazed in the hotel pool and hot tub. It was all so perfect, too perfect maybe. Everything was amazing. As we gazed into each other’s eyes, I suddenly had an overwhelming fear that it was too good to be true and asked Daryle, “Are we going to die?”

He responded, “What in the world? Why would you think that?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. Something feels strange.”

“Well, honey, I’m not going anywhere. We are together forever.”

“Yes, love. You are right!”

After our romantic weekend, Daryle left for work driving his large delivery truck towards Boston. Around 9:00 a.m. he called me and said, “Honey, I’m having trouble concentrating on the road. I keep going into the breakdown lane.”

“That’s it!” I said. “Pull over somewhere safe. I’m coming to get you to take you to the ER.”

As I left my house, I grabbed my parents and drove over an hour to find him. His boss met us at the truck. He was surprised to find my husband so disoriented. I told him I would call later with Daryle’s test results. We were all wondering what on earth could cause such odd symptoms. I thought it might be Lyme disease, a concussion, or maybe some swelling on the brain. I pressed my mother, the nurse in the family, as to what it might be. She could only reassure me that they would figure it out.

We arrived at the ER and I watched as my six-foot, light-brownhaired, blue-eyed hubby was “worked on” by the medical staff. I remember thinking, “Wow! What a frenzy!” I was stunned by the number of people, equipment, and procedures. There were needles and multicolored wires everywhere, and they took blood continually. As they prepped him for a CAT scan of his brain, I could only think, “Please, make it stop!” It was surreal. I was numb. I felt like I was in a fog, unsure of my next step and frightened out of my mind. We can’t be here. It’s Monday. We should be at work. I knew in my heart something was very wrong.

My mind was racing as I tried to remember clues to what might have caused all this. Two weeks prior, something had happened to Daryle at work. He was a driver for a uniform company. He had done this type of work pretty much most of our married life. I recalled that on this particular day, he had struggled to carry a large load of uniforms, hangers, and mats into one of the businesses. He suddenly tripped, and down he went. He smacked the back of his head on the hard cement floor and ended up with a terrible headache and a knot the size of an egg!

Happy that no one had seen his graceful flight to the floor, he kept on with his daily schedule, and only mentioned the fall to me later that night at dinner. I asked if he was in any pain and felt the huge bump on the back of his head, but he reassured me, “I’ll be okay, honey. Don’t worry.” Daryle had faith and I was a woman of faith, but now things weren’t okay. Many times during the extensive examination, I felt as if I were going under.

I couldn’t understand why any of this was happening, but I believed God’s word, “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose” (Romans 8:28, NIV), even though I couldn’t possibly imagine how God could use this situation to do that.

Things moved quickly. We passed through a tempest of doctors explaining terms like “lesions,” “mass,” and “tumors.” A top neurosurgeon was called in and Daryle was shuffled from test to test. We were all asked to wait in a cubicle of a room with a dingy, stained curtain for what seemed like hours. My husband’s constant words to me as he grabbed my hands and looked into my bloodshot, tear-soaked eyes were, “Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere!”

Despite his assurances, I was walking through a waking nightmare in fear. I did not yet have Daryle’s confident faith. I felt like I was living someone else’s life, as if I were peering through a window at someone else’s troubles and suffering. I was filled with compassion, even though the life before me was my own. Reality slapped me back into focus as I heard, “Brain surgery is the only way to make a proper diagnosis.”

I cried uncontrollably. I dry-heaved and had to step out into the fresh air to keep from passing out. Our reality had just changed forever.

My body was literally buzzing. I had just watched the specialist review brain scans across the hall as he unconsciously shook his head in dismay. I hoped they weren’t Daryle’s. Unfortunately, the doctor’s next stop was Room 7, at Daryle’s bedside. I knew God’s Word says, “Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.” (Philippians 4:6, NIV)

Well, I can tell you the Lord heard a lot from me that day. I found this to be an extremely challenging scripture. I mean, really, “Don’t be anxious?” Waves were crashing all around me. I felt as if I could barely breathe, yet even during all the chaos, deep within my heart I did experience a strange calming peace at the height of this storm. If not for God’s loving care for me along with the wonderful support of my family, my church family and friends, I don’t know what would have happened to me as we waited for the results.

My phone rang off the hook. Eventually I made the call to Daryle’s boss who was utterly shocked. He explained that his brother was going through the same thing, and that his thoughts and prayers were with us. I then realized I had to call Darlene, Daryle’s mom. This was a phone call I did not want to have to make. My thoughts raced, “I can’t make this call. How is this possible? This is not happening! Wake me up! Jesus, help me!”

Chapter 2

The Backstory

My husband Daryle Wayne Borrows was born 8 lbs. 8 oz. in Williston, North Dakota, on July 2, 1959. He came into this world through one mom and was lovingly given to another. Darlene was an expectant mother. She already had a five-year-old daughter and found herself in circumstances where she knew she would not be able to care for her new baby as she wanted to. Darlene met the Borrows’ in church.

They were travelling as evangelists and had set up camp in North Dakota for a few months. In this time Darlene got to know them well, and learned that Reverend Bill and Lil Borrows were desperate to have children. Lil had had four miscarriages, and Darlene was comforted with the hope that the Borrows might want to adopt her precious child. All eventually agreed that the Borrows would adopt Darlene’s baby, and Daryle’s new life was set in motion.

Darlene wrote many letters to the Borrows’ as her due date approached and, thankfully many years later, I discovered them tucked away in an old shoebox, along with the official papers pertaining to the adoption. The Borrows legally adopted Daryle and received him directly from the hospital at just three days old. The Borrows named him Daryle because it was the closest they could come to matching his mom’s name.

They hoped this would in some way preserve his connection to her. Darlene later shared that the Borrows brought him to visit her when he was just a month old. They informed her that Bill was looking for work and that they’d decided to move away to Fremont, California. Though saddened, Darlene understood and kissed her baby boy goodbye, expecting that she would never see him again.

Daryle was around eight years old when his parents finally told him that he was adopted. They feared that he would respond negatively or that he might feel differently towards them, but Daryle simply said, “Cool. Okay.” He didn’t quite understand what it all meant, but he was happy. Daryle was part of a tradition. Bill had also been adopted at the age of four by the Borrows, a Canadian family. Daryle and his dad had a profound bond because of this.

California was beautiful, but finding work as a minister was hard, so Bill had to take whatever work he could find to support his family. His friend offered him a job as a carpenter. Bill had no experience as a carpenter but wasn’t afraid of the challenge because he had done many other odd jobs. Ironically, God orchestrated this to provide Bill with the skills he would need to build a church years later.

Daryle’s mom, Lil Borrows, was a bright and devoted homemaker who had the biggest heart of anyone I have ever known. She loved her family and shared her love with anyone who crossed her path. Daryle was a healthy, normal little boy in every way, blessed with two loving parents.

Bill Borrows happily settled in California and eventually did become a local preacher, but in 1969 he felt God call him to the New England area. After many inquiries, the district superintendent of the Assemblies of God in Massachusetts, Reverend David Flower, told him, “Come on down. We have a church for you.”

Bill and Lil sold all they had and bought a 13-foot white Shasta trailer, hitched it to the back of their 1968 green Mercury, and began the long journey across the United States via a stop in Canada to visit family. (Daryle later totaled their beloved Mercury in his teen years. When asked what happened, he spouted, “I was daydreaming about Suzie!”

Back to 1969: Daryle was ten years old and about to enjoy the greatest adventure of his life on a 3,000-mile cross-country camping trip. It took them approximately two months to complete the trek. Their excitement grew as they drew near to the place where they would finally put down roots to serve the Lord. New Bedford, Massachusetts, their new home, was a very different place from Fremont, California.

As they pulled up to the church building, disappointment overwhelmed their hearts. They had thought for sure that they would be coming to worship in a grand building. But when they arrived, Daryle thought it was a warehouse. Bill remembered that God had spoken to his heart one Sunday evening after a poorly attended service, saying that He was going to “open a bigger door,” but Bill thought this couldn’t possibly be it.

Believing that it must only be the beginning of something better and knowing that God had called him here, he simply said, “Okay, God. Let’s do it.” So began their new life in New Bedford.

Daryle started elementary school at the Mount Pleasant Street School and, unbeknownst to us, we were both attending the school at the same time. I had only been there for a year after returning from Ireland with my parents. I was just a little first grader who was picked on because of my Irish accent, and Daryle was a shy quiet boy in the fifth grade. He often said he wished he had met me back then. In any case, the Lord was connecting us in ways we wouldn’t even realize for years to come.

Daryle was very athletic and soon began playing hockey, basketball, and little league baseball. As a teenager, he eventually joined the church softball league. He also enjoyed learning the guitar and the piano, for which he won an award from the city at a very young age. God gave him a gift, which he used from his teen years on to worship God and to lead others to worship the Lord with him.

Daryle was a product of his mother’s faith. Lil was an extraordinary woman. Though small physically (barely five feet tall), she was a woman of enormous faith and determination. By 1972 she realized that the congregation was starting to outgrow the church they’d built at the beginning of their ministry, so they started to look for a site to build a new church. Lil was resourceful and bold.

She found a property and, with only $60 dollars in the bank, they purchased 818 Church Street to build their new church home. The plans were drawn and Reverend Bill Borrows became chief architect and builder. Construction went on for two years. It was truly a labor of love by Bill and many of the congregation who shed blood, sweat, and tears to create the uniquely shaped building. Onlookers often wondered if they were building a church or an ark!

Daryle and his friends used to have fun teasing his dad during the building process. Boys will be boys, even PK’s (Preacher’s kids). Daryle once told me that he and his friend Eli would throw snowballs over the roof of the church in the hope that they would roll down the other side onto some unsuspecting worker. His dad got quite annoyed and yelled at the boys to quit it.

But of course one more snowball just had to fly, and Eli’s ball hit Pastor Bill squarely on top of his bald head! A perfect shot! His dad came running around with a hammer in his hand and the boys took off. Another time, Daryle laughingly recalled how he and Eli would sit in the rafters shooting spitballs onto the working congregation! Though these pranks were less than admirable, they demonstrated the spirit of joy and freedom that filled the Borrows’ hearts, home, and church life.

Daryle’s mom and dad dedicated the rest of their lives to the newly named Christian Fellowship Center (CFC). Bill thought that name sounded contemporary and had a better chance of reaching the younger crowd, which it did. Adjacent to the church was a single-family home, and that is where Daryle and his parents lived. They held services in the basement of their home until construction of the new church was completed.

Oh happy, happy days! This new building is where I finally met Daryle and where we all settled in as one big happy church family. These were wonderful years that witnessed our marriage, the birth of our children, and nineteen wonderful years where God allowed me to work as my father-in-law’s secretary. I grew a lot there. And we all grew together. We truly felt a sense of fellowship and pride working for the Lord and serving His people.

Years passed as we experienced the same joys and struggles as other people. One of the hardships we faced was the loss of Lil, who passed away in July of 1996. When she died, I lost my best friend, Daryle lost his adoring mother, and Bill lost the love of his life, his prayer warrior and ministry partner. They’d been married for forty-six years. Witnessing this loss and its devastating impact on Bill was my introduction to the deep sorrow and grief that comes from losing your soul mate. Bill lived with us for five years until he too passed away in December of 2001.

After his passing, we realized that just as the former president’s kids don’t remain in the White House, we could no longer remain in at CFC. So with heavy hearts we left the church home we’d enjoyed for over thirty years. Eventually the building Bill had so lovingly built in the early 70s was torn down to make way for improvements to the church. Our sadness was tempered by a sense that this was the fulfillment of the Lord’s promise to Bill all those years ago to give him a “bigger door.”

Though Lil and Bill did not get to see the realization of that dream, their dedication and hard work provided a beautiful foundation for the preaching of God’s Word and the reaching of many people.

Bill’s life and faith helped form the man Daryle grew to be. Bill’s faith had been tested and was real. His solid faith was something he lived by and imparted to his son. I can remember Bill, or Dad as I called him, telling me stories of his early Christian life as a young man. He shared that in his day and age, going bowling was a sin! I suspect that growing up in the 30s and 40s must have been quite a challenge for young Christian adults.

That may be why he walked away from his faith, joined the army, and lived a very non-Christian lifestyle before the Lord began to call him back. One day while Bill was on leave, he was out drinking with a buddy. On their way back to the barracks, they were involved in a terrible accident. His friend lost his life and Dad was ejected halfway out of the vehicle. He broke his leg, and his face and nose were partly torn off. He ended up with well over a hundred stitches to repair his nose, face, chin, and tongue.

You would think this life-threatening experience would have been a sufficient wake-up call. Unfortunately, it took another few years for him to rededicate his life to the Lord, but by 1947, he was a changed man. How good and patient is our God! He is not willing that any should perish. God’s longsuffering heart toward Bill transformed him. And God used Bill’s suffering to make him an especially compassionate pastor and shepherd to the lost.

After committing his life to Christ, Dad headed off to Bible College, where he met Lil Esther Amber Stanley. Lil was always proud of the fact that her family line included the famous Lord Stanley who established the national hockey league in Canada, her native country. Anyway, Lil wanted nothing to do with Bill, but he kept telling her he would marry her one day. Her response was, “Ha! That will be the day. Keep dreaming, Bill!” Lil wanted to be a missionary to China and not marry, but the Lord had other plans for her!

Isn’t it funny how one decision can change the course of our lives? It struck me that if she had done what she’d wanted, my Daryle wouldn’t be mine! I’m so happy she chose to cooperate with God! Well, a few years later the wedding bells did ring, and a new life began for Bill and Lil. They worked hard as ministers of the gospel and lived in many different places. They even ministered on an Indian reservation, which Lil loved. I think she could have lived there forever, but God led them onward.

Though life and people were not always kind to them, God preserved them. I remember one particular story they often told about a congregation that was “stuck” in their old ways of thinking. They wanted to get rid of Dad and his recommended reforms. One day he went to the church and found it chained shut! They refused to pay him and literally tried to starve them out! Lil mentioned to me that their diet consisted of eating peas on toast and a lot of bologna.

Thankfully the Lord was with them and moved them into evangelistic work in a little Wild West one-horse town called Tioga, North Dakota. Here they ministered at Reverend Strom’s church, Tioga Assembly of God. The Lord truly heard the cries of their aching hearts to have a child, for this is where they met Darlene. It was in this very town years before that Daryle’s grandmother, Inga, had met the Borrows.

It was Inga who connected them to Darlene and her unborn baby. Inga was a prayerful woman who knew it would be best to find a Christian home for her future grandchild and helped facilitate the adoption. Even so, she grieved at the thought of never seeing him again. But when Daryle was eight months old, Bill wrote a sweet letter to Inga as if Daryle had written it himself, telling her all about his young life thus far. After that precious event, communication ceased as their lives moved in different directions.

Because Tioga was so important to Daryle’s story, he and I visited the town more than once. Each time it felt like we’d gone back to the 1800s. The layout and design looked exactly like a Hollywood set, and you could see for miles in every direction. There was only one stoplight, and no one locked their doors. During one visit, we walked into a restaurant to have breakfast.

To our surprise, everyone stopped eating and turned their eyes towards us just like a bar room scene from an old Western because clearly, they weren’t used to seeing strangers in “them thar” parts. Miraculously, Inga was reunited with Daryle soon before her own death at ninety-eight years old.

Chapter 3

Family Ties

Darlene came back into Daryle’s life when he was thirty-five years old, prompted by a song by Bruce Carroll he had heard called, “Sometimes When We Love.” It’s a song about a mother searching for the child she gave up at birth. This song made him wonder if Darlene was curious about him. Every year on his birthday I would ask, “Do you want to try to find her?” His reply was always…