Bring your brokenness and I’ll bring mine.

I have always felt like music has the power to comfort and heal and a song by Francesca Battistelli titled, If We’re Honest, has been powerful these last few years.

Throughout my life I have found there is great tension between being completely vulnerable with life’s events yet trying to guard yourself from the judgements of others. Maybe it’s because I grew up in an alcoholic home, those secrets couldn’t easily be hidden when your dad’s name was in the legal section of the local paper next to the letters, DWI. Thankfully, through those painful experiences and a father that openly admitted he (and we) were all broken, now celebrates 25 years of recovery. But that didn’t come with hiding our pain, it was out there, and we had to own it. That pain has brought great purpose and wisdom throughout my 37 years of life, and for that I am grateful.

The lyrics that impact me most in the song are, bring your brokenness and I’ll bring mine. You see, the truth is, we all are broken. We just live in a world that stresses that we need to live as if our lives need to be captured with the perfect picture (and filter), our response needs to worthy of ‘likes’, all of our things needs to be shiny, and the path to success should be straight.

Well friends, it’s not. And if we strive for that, we have missed what truly is important in this life. This blog was created (almost 5 years ago) to share our journey and it brought vulnerability and healing when life brings about unexpected events.

So I’m bringing my brokenness and I invite you to bring yours. I do not wish this pain on anyone. Never. Ever. Ever. But we will speak truth into the darkness. We will not let this define anyone.

Last Saturday, we received a call that my brother-in-law, Andrew, was on life support in a Chicago hospital and not looking like he will survive. I was getting ready for a college roommate breakfast reunion when I saw Chris’ Jeep pull back into the driveway. Why wasn’t he at practice?

“My mom called me and told me that Andrew had been in an accident at the airport and was not expected to live.” A detective from the county had knocked on their front door at 8:30 am and asked them to sit down, going over the little details they knew at that time.

The airport? That doesn’t make sense. He had just flown into the airport Friday night and was excited to spend the weekend with some friends, along with visiting his former Stampede billet family, and attend a Chicago Blackhawks game. He was so excited for the weekend. Why was he at the airport in the early morning hours on Saturday? I don’t understand.

After frantically calling our babysitter and my parents to cover the kids, my in-laws, Chris and I drove the 6 excruciating hours to Chicago. It was the longest trip we had ever taken. The doctor greeted us along with his friends that were in complete shock of what happened and they helped replay everything that had occurred the evening before.

When Andrew and his buddy landed at the airport Friday evening, they grabbed something to eat, and walked around Wrigley Ville. His friends said that he was starting to act a little weird and they decided to go back to his friend’s place. We asked if he had been drinking, yet knowing he wasn’t a drinker, but at this point we were desperate for answers to how this could have happened. They told us he wasn’t drinking.

After they got to their friend’s apartment he started having what looked like a panic attack. They explained that they had never seen him like that before. While trying to get him to calm down, Andrew got up and said he had to go home, he had to get back to Minnesota. He grabbed his bag and headed out the door. One of his friends followed him a little after he walked out, and he was gone.

Andrew got on a train and took it to the Chicago O’Hare Airport. He purchased a ticket to depart at 7 am to come home. Instead of walking to the departure gate, he walked out the door to an overpass and climbed over the railing, turned around, and let go.

He let go. He fell 60 feet.

"We are deeply heartbroken to share of the loss of Andrew Carroll, an amazing brother, son, uncle, nephew, cousin, teammate, mentor, and friend who died tragically after a fall at the Chicago O’Hare Airport. We are deeply grieving but have the assurance that he is in the loving arms of Jesus because of his decision to accept Christ. At this difficult time, what also gives us comfort is that his life meant so much to so many people and he was able to give the gift of hope by donating his heart and organs so that others might have life. May his love for Jesus and others live through each of us. We are in the process of making arrangements for his celebration of life and hope you can join us as we honor Andrew." With love, the Carroll Family

So, let’s be honest.

Yes, I wrote he fell. That was the best way for me to describe it. Forgive me, I’m not good at communicating the most devastating news to ever share about an incredible man that was loved so deeply by his family and friends…and just about everyone that knew him. We were (and are) in complete shock and honestly still can't understand it all. A guy that devoted his life to ‘seeing’ people, getting to know them, and making them feel important and loved. Which is why this is so very hard. Never in our minds did we ever imagine that he would do this, and he would NEVER want us or anyone to experience so much pain.

Hindsight is always 20/20, replaying conversations. He was trying to figure out what car to buy, where he was going to live this summer, what he wanted to do full time, etc. Not something you take your life over. You can read more about who he was here...here...here…here…or ask anyone that called him family, friend, teammate, teacher, coach, classmate, roommate, and neighbor. Which confirms that all of us are in complete disbelief.

We sat in a room, the doctor and nurse, Andrew’s parents, my husband and I, and listened to the doctor say that it was only a matter of time before he would pass away. We walked into an ICU of 16 beds, most of which were filled with people waiting to die. And here we were watching a ventilator push breath into the chest of one of the strongest guys I know. I watched as my husband, kneeled on the floor, sobbing saying goodbye to his only brother. I listened to my in-laws cry out their love for their son and watched as they walked away with a small box that held the message that his organs would be a gift of hope to another. Never ever, ever, would I wish this experience on anyone and again never ever, would Andrew want us to be in so much pain.