Becky Powell - Awful Beautiful Life: When God Shows Up in the Midst of Tragedy

Within these pages, youll find the story of my familys journey after my husband, Mark, committed suicide on May 16, 2013. Its a story of life, tragedy, and the wellspring of love that lifted us. In many ways, it is a call to all of us to love well.

Youll read about how God showed up in our darkest time and carried us through. Youll read about the people involved and the incredible grace and patience they bestowed upon me while I worked to pay back every cent my husband had borrowed. Youll find tears, laughter, faith, and lots of country music within these pages as well.

The heartbreak and hope within country music sustained me through many stormy nights and turned tears to laughter most days. I will forever be thankful to Gary Allan and his song Every Storm (Runs Out of Rain). I trusted in that truth as firmly as I trusted Psalm 34:8: Taste and see that the Lord is good; blessed is the one who takes refuge in him.

Sometimesoftentimeswe feel both truths only after the storm is behind us, but that doesnt mean that bright horizon wasnt always there.

Becky Powell
December 2019

Dont go looking for the reasons.
Dont go asking Jesus why.

Broken Halos by Chris Stapleton

In all good stories, you have to understand who the character was to enjoy the journey to who she becomes. Its no different here, I guess, for fiction often tells the truth about life, and life is often stranger than fiction. My story begins as a perfect fairy tale.

If you knew my family around Christmas 2012, you were probably invited to our annual Christmas party. On the first Wednesday of every December, my husband, Mark, and I, along with our friends the Dalgleishes, hosted a Christmas party for 450 guests at our home. The party was so bigboth in its size and grandeurthat the Austin American Statesman featured our 2011 festivities as the event where Democrats and Republicans raised a glass together. Everyone in town kneweven if your invitation got lost in the mailto show up at our house at six p.m. on that first Wednesday in December, and to bring an unwrapped gift.

We lived in Austins Tarrytown neighborhood in a sprawling eight-thousand-square-foot home, with a stone exterior and vaulted roof, which gave it a church-like aesthetic that set a perfect backdrop for a Christmas party. The side facing our quiet cul-de-sac was full of windows. During the day, those windows let in gorgeous east-facing light. On that first Wednesday, they highlighted the bustling party within.

After pulling up to our home, each visitor would hand their keys to a valet, who would take the car and welcome them to the party. On their way up the stone walk, and noting a few friends through the windows, they would drop their unwrapped toy into the sleigh in our front yard. The gifts were for the Rainbow Room at Travis Countys Child Protective Services. Each year we collected hundreds of toys for needy kids. Once the gift was nestled among the others, the guest walked up the large stone steps to the front door, where I hugged them. I always stationed myself at the front door since it was the only way to see everyone at least once. Id tell each guest about their friends who were already inside and wish them a merry Christmas.

Stephen Shallcrosss 2 Dine 4 catered the party. Waiters silently passed through the rooms, offering appetizers to the crowd, offering mini beef Wellingtons or the partys signature cocktail, the Powell Mistletoe Martini. They refilled their platters in the carport outside. There were waiters who worked the party every year and remembered the names of the guests, whispering to them that the favorite rosemary almonds were in a silver bowl in the living room this year.

The thirteen-foot Christmas tree sat regally in the living room, and off to the right the dining room table was piled high with Christmas desserts. Scott Calvert at The Cake Plate outdid himself that year. Our twelve-person table overflowed with every sugary delight imaginable: mini gingerbread houses, Christmas tree brownies, glittery bonbons, cake pops, and French macarons. If one walked deeper into our home, saying hello to friends and acquaintances, and enjoying the Christmas music, theyd see the seven fully decorated live trees throughout the house. Martha Stewart had nothing on me that first Wednesday of every Decemberthis party was a labor of love, and the highlight of my year. It ushered in a beautiful, magical, and holy month for me.

Christmas 2012 was particularly memorable because, after celebrating at home, we headed to the Waldorf-Astoria in New York City. Madison, our eldest, was twenty that winter and celebrated her debut at the International Debutante Ball on December 29. It was an extraordinary affair covering four whirlwind days and culminating in a glorious ball with girls in white gowns, each escorted by a young tuxedo-clad man.