Through Thick and Thin

By Kathryn Cole

When Kathryn's son died, at the age of 24, as the result of a virus, she was suddenly plunged into an unreal world where nothing made sense anymore. It was a world of pain, grief, loss, confusion, and many questions. This was compounded by other serious situations she was being battered with, leaving her unable to process the loss. Over time sh

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kingdom Publishers
• Release date: Feb 26, 2024
• ISBN: 9781911697978

Kathryn Cole

A committed Christian for nearly 50 years, I have a degree in Biblical Studies and a Certificate in Christian Studies from a theological college. Serving God, in different ways in the local church, has been an important part of my life, particularly in children's work. I also wrote material for a magazine providing resources for Sunday school teachers.I was an ordinary person, married with two children, leading an ordinary life, until my world fell apart when my son died at the age of 24. I started journaling, as a way of processing the loss, but also to record the ways God was providing, comforting, and teaching me, through this devastating time. I have used these journals to write my book, Through Thick and Thin, as I would like to use my experiences to bring hope, encouragement and reassurance to others.

Book preview

Foreword

Why do bad things happen to good people?

This is a question most of us ask when tragedy strikes. When it happens to people we know, our human, empathetic response kicks in and we immediately offer comfort and support. Cards, flowers, with offers of practical help surround and sometimes overwhelm those caught in the middle of the crisis.

Then there comes an inevitable lull in the attention as life moves on and we assume it’s doing the same for our friends struggling with loss. Many who have walked this path speak about it being the hardest part of their heart-rending journey. It has been said, "Grief tears a hole in the fabric of life that we spend the rest of our days trying to mend."

Kathy Cole has written an honest account of her journey of repair following the unexpected death of her son, Rick, at the age of just twenty four. Rick was a few days short of his first wedding anniversary to Helen, and they stood at the brink of a lifetime of service for God.

Rick’s death was an inexplicable and devastating loss.

Kathy and her husband, David, are passionate walkers and this provides a creative analogy to describe how she sought to process all that transpired following Rick’s death.

When I first read the manuscript it was not intended for publication but, as Rick was a good friend and former student, Kathy wanted to share it with me as part of her grieving process. I found it profoundly moving and could see how her account might provide comfort and hope for others walking their personal paths of loss.

It is not a book with easy answers but it does point to the One who walks alongside and bears our griefs and our sorrows.

Ian Coffey

Moorlands College – Summer 2023

Introduction

My son, Rick, wrote a New Year message in the Church magazine for January 2015. He wrote about people in the bible who had been faithful, who listened to God, and who followed him through thick and thin. He invited the church to join him that year in listening to God, to see where he was going to take them. Rick was only to be with them for the first month of that year. In the March magazine the minister, in writing about Rick, quoted some of what he had written. She then went on to say of him, ‘He was faithful, and he listened to God and followed him through thick and thin. He would still say those words to us – listen to God.... see where God is going to take us...’

On 8th March 2015, I wrote in my journal, ‘31 January Rick died. My precious son was taken from me.’ The death of your child is certainly a time when you discover how willing you are to follow God through thick and thin. This was made even harder by the continual battering of other things that life was throwing at us at that time. How can you remain faithful when you are drowning in a sea of questions, and nothing makes sense anymore? How can you find God when you are devastated, overwhelmed by pain and grief, exhausted, and often close to despair? How can you follow God when you cannot face people or life, and when you reach a point of total brokenness?

This was a journey through thick and thin that I had not imagined I would have to make, and most certainly one I had never wanted to have to face. It seemed unbearable, and I wasn’t at all sure I could survive it. The shock of finding my life suddenly changed in this way, with no prior warning at all, was overwhelming. It was a very dark place that I found myself in, torn apart by loss. It was a journey there was no escape from, but I had choices along the way as to how I responded to the situation itself, and to God.

I have likened this journey to a walk through thick and thin which my husband, David, and I did in Northumberland. It was a lovely sunny August day, and we set off to do a walk from a book of guided walks. It was apparently 6 km and would take us 2 hours. We allowed extra time, so that we would not have to rush, and did not take our lunch as we would be back in plenty of time. This meant that we were not prepared for what happened next. The first part of the walk was on a well-defined path, with a few ups and downs, and the occasional boggy bit to negotiate, but fairly easy walking and enjoyable.

Then suddenly everything changed. The route took us off the path across an area of access land. We were ploughing through heather and going uphill over boggy ground. It was a relief to reach the next path, but after only a very short distance it disappeared. We were again wandering across boggy, uneven ground, making lots of detours as we went backwards and forwards trying to pick our way through. Occasionally we came across a short boardwalk, and we were very grateful for these respites from the exhausting walking.

Eventually, we came to a path taking us out of the bog. The trouble was it was a very narrow path up the side of a hill, with a steep drop to our right. At the top of the hill, we came to the remains of a forest area, where we had to negotiate tree stumps, felled trees, and water-logged ground. We could see the hill in the distance that we were heading towards, but I found that every time I looked at the hill we were no closer than the last time I had looked! To add to the difficulty I turned my ankle stepping off a boardwalk, but fortunately, the pain quickly subsided and I was able to carry on.

At this point, we met some people coming the other way. They told us it was not far to a track that would take us to the foot of the hill. It turned out their idea of not far was not the same as mine! We emerged from the forest area into more bog, and if anything this was the worst yet. It was at this point I gave up, and I sat down on a log, convinced I couldn’t take another step. Giving up in the middle of nowhere, however, was not really an option. I had to find a way to continue.

I dragged myself on until at last, we reached the track, easily walking on firm ground at last. The trouble was the path then went up a steep hill! Having survived the difficult climb, we then had to negotiate a series of steep descents and ascents along the ridge. Coming to the top of each hill we hoped to see the car, but we kept being disappointed. Eventually, the car came into sight; the only trouble was it was just a dot in the distance. There was also a steep descent to be tackled to reach it, but five hours after leaving the car we made it back again. It was then, after removing my walking boots, that the result of the injury to my ankle gradually became more apparent.

We could not believe that a 6 km (3.7 miles) walk had taken us so long. We felt better when we measured it on the map and discovered that it was actually 6 miles, not 6 km! It was the toughest 6 miles we had ever walked, and not surprising that it had taken five hours. Others would have done it more quickly, others more slowly. It took as long as it took and could not be hurried. There are definite parallels between this walk and my journey following Rick’s death. The terrain, the difficulties, the thoughts, and the feelings experienced on the walk all reflect different aspects of that journey.

I have kept a journal from that entry on the 8th of March 2015 to the present day. Sometimes I wrote daily, and at other times weekly, or longer. I used it to record things that were happening, my feelings, and my reactions, as a way of processing all that was going on through a truly bewildering time. I also recorded those things I felt God was showing me, the process of trying to find answers, and the highs and lows in my faith through that time. Often, I struggled to get my thoughts together, at other times the pen would not keep up with the words racing through my mind. The walk in Northumberland and my journal are the starting points for writing about my journey of following God through thick and thin.

Chapter 1 - My life experience

W

alking had always been an enjoyable part of my life. I remember the thrill of getting my first pair of proper walking boots. We had several family holidays in Scotland, Wales, and the Lake District that included a lot of hill walking, and I loved it. Before we were married, David came on holiday with us and was subjected to days of walking, which to my relief he enjoyed. This has been an important part of our lives ever since. A couple of years after we were married, we went to Switzerland. We knew we were going to do a lot of strenuous walking, so we prepared by doing long walks in the Peak District, including Kinder Scout. The scenery and the wildflowers in Switzerland were amazing, and walking was the best way of experiencing it all. We walked up more than one mountain to places that were above the snow line in June. We had learnt to start off at a gradual pace, and we often saw that those who had overtaken us at the beginning failed to make it all the way. We do not walk as far, or as high these days, but we are still capable of 6-8 miles in the Peak District. So we were not inexperienced walkers, but the walk in Northumberland caught us out!

By my late fifties, I had experienced some of what life can throw at you, both good and bad. But nothing I had experienced up to that point had prepared me for the devastation of losing my child. Nothing can do that.

My life began in Walthamstow in 1956. It always feels strange to me, when I fill in a form, to have to put my place of birth as Walthamstow. I consider myself to be from Sussex, and that is where I grew up from the age of two. Tracing my family tree, I discovered that both sides of the family had lived in Sussex going back for generations. I don’t remember anything about Walthamstow, and I feel no connection with it. My roots are in Sussex, I just wasn’t born there. After my parents were married, my Dad’s first job was as a history teacher at a school in Walthamstow. They weren’t there for long, but I was born during that time and so officially it is where I am from.

Sussex was a lovely county to be brought up in. Sunday afternoons were always a time set aside for a family walk. We explored the Downs, the woods, the villages, the commons, and the National Trust gardens. It was lovely driving around Sussex too, with its leafy lanes and banks of wildflowers. I loved the colours and crunching through the fallen leaves in autumn. In the spring there were bluebells in the woods and cowslips on the Downs. We could hear the cuckoo, in the nearby woods, from our house, and on our walks on the Downs, we enjoyed the song of the skylarks. I would lie on my back, searching a clear blue sky for the tiny dot that was making the lovely sound so high above me.

We also made frequent trips to Newhaven to visit our grandparents. This sometimes included a walk along the breakwater, which went out to the lighthouse. I used to love running in and out of the arches, but the smell of rotting fish wasn’t so pleasant. You could walk along the top of the arches, but I only attempted this once. The movement of the sea on both sides made me feel quite dizzy, and it was only a narrow walkway. We also spent time at Sandy Corner, which as its name suggests was a corner of sand between the breakwater and the front. It was fun to be in the sea when the ferry came into the harbour, as the wash created large waves. It was also fun to watch the people who didn’t know about the wash, and were sitting too close to the water’s edge!

My sister was born when I was three. We could be good friends but we did argue rather a lot. When I was eight, I enjoyed the addition of a baby brother to the family. I remember long, hot summers playing together in the garden, but that is probably not quite how it was. My memory of winter is that there was plenty of snow, which was fun at first, but then became slippery and hung around for too long. It was a time to sit in front of the fire with a book. We didn’t have a television until I was older, but why did I need one when I had books? I escaped into the world of Narnia, the totally unrealistic lives of children like the Famous Five and girls at boarding school. I cried over Black Beauty and Heidi. I constantly had my nose in a book.

There was plenty to enjoy in my childhood. I didn’t, however, always find things easy. I was painfully shy, which meant that school caused a certain amount of anxiety for me. My school reports always mentioned that I was too quiet in class. Academically I was fairly average. As an avid reader, English was no problem for me. Maths, however, was a different story and this was constantly pointed out in my school reports. One teacher expressed his concern about my consistently poor arithmetic results. He wrote, ‘calculations of any kind seem to be of no interest to her.’ It wasn’t so much a lack of interest as a total lack of ability. Once we got to our final year, we had to sit the 11+ to determine which school we would go to next. My parents were told I was borderline. They decided that I would probably do better at the top of a Secondary school, rather than the bottom of a Grammar school, so I wasn’t given extra tuition to get me through. I duly failed the 11+, which was fine by me as I wasn’t too keen on