“When the Storm Breaks You: Finding Strength in the Wilderness”

“When the Storm Breaks You: Finding Strength in the Wilderness”

What do you do when life delivers a storm so heavy… it changes everything? Not just your plans—but your relationships, your faith, your sense of control.

For my good friend Larry Hartzog, that question wasn’t theoretical. It became deeply personal.

When the Storm Hits Without Warning

About 15 years ago, Larry was building a future with someone he met thru work and began love in a deeper way towards a future together. Their relationship was steady, intentional, and moving toward marriage. Then, in a single moment like a lightning bolt in a fast-moving storm, everything changed.

On April 1st—ironically, a day known for jokes—Larry received a call that would mark one of the darkest moments of his life. His future wife’s son had taken his life and she was the one who found him. What followed was grief, shock, and the overwhelming weight of trying to hold everything together. The storm arrived.

Larry did what many would do—he showed up. He supported. He stayed. He leaned into faith, into counsel, into anything that might help them navigate the pain. But some storms don’t resolve the way we hope.

Despite his efforts, the relationship couldn’t survive the weight of the tragedy. With two daughters still at home, she made the painful decision to step away from their relationship. And just like that, Larry wasn’t just grieving the loss of a life—he was grieving the loss of a future.

Choosing the Wilderness Instead of the Escape

When you lose control, the instinct is to search for answers.

Larry did something different—he searched for clarity. Inspired by the book “Wild at Heart” , he made a decision that felt both radical and necessary: he would go into the wilderness—alone.

He packed up and headed to Big Bend National Park. No distractions. No noise. Just space to wrestle with God, with grief, and with everything he didn’t understand. But even that journey didn’t start the way he expected.

Ten minutes into the hike—with a 70-pound pack and miles ahead—he broke. The weight felt unbearable. The doubt flooded in. He returned to his car, sat down, and questioned everything.

“God, You brought me all this way… and this is where it ends?” - It was one of the lowest moments of the entire storm. But instead of quitting, he made a simple decision:

“I’ll put the backpack on again and just go a little further.” - And that changed everything.

Not long after, he crossed paths with two young men—strangers who quickly became companions on the trail. They talked, laughed, shared stories, and without realizing it, they lifted the burden he was carrying. What Larry thought would be a completely solitary journey became something else entirely.

A reminder: Sometimes, the help we need shows up when we least expect it.

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The Lesson: It’s Not About Your Timing

That trip gave Larry what he came for—but not in the way he expected. Yes, there were moments of solitude. Yes, there was reflection. But more importantly, there was a shift in perspective.

He realized something powerful: The silence he thought he was experiencing… wasn’t silence at all. He had been praying, searching, waiting for answers—and feeling like nothing was happening.

But looking back, it was clear: Things were happening. Just not on his timeline.

A year later, after no contact, he reconnected with the woman he had lost. She was in a different place—stronger, more stable. And this time, it worked. They eventually got married.

What once felt like an ending… was actually part of a longer process. A process that required patience, faith, endurance, and trust in something bigger than immediate understanding.

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Keep Moving Forward

Larry’s story isn’t about avoiding the storm. It’s about continuing through it—even when you’re exhausted, uncertain, or ready to quit. It’s about taking the next step when the path doesn’t make sense.

And most of all, it’s about trusting that timing—while often painful—isn’t random. Because the storm will come. The question is—will you keep walking thru it?