Author: River

DIFFERENT.   Everything is different.  Ten years ago had you asked me what Christmas 2020 would be like, my description would have not been anything like reality has come to be.  It is so very different this year.  The traditional definition of different states “unlike in nature, form, or quality”.  Unlike. What strikes me is there is no judgement in the definition.  It just states unlike.  It does not indicate superiority nor inequity of value.  That is where my own prejudices come to play.  I have a choice in how to view the difference. I have the power to give the difference connotations of good and bad. 

This year my family is so much smaller.  I am reminded of this curtesy of FaceBook memories from just six years ago. I see the last photo of my intact family.  It was the last Christmas my oldest sister would be present with us. I had no idea that she was not the only one that was soon to be absent.  Within three years my sister would pass on due to cancer, an affair and divorce would end my marriage, and my mother would enter her reward after 90 years.  My high school daughter would grow up and begin her young adult life outside my home.  I would no longer live in the home we gathered in for the picture.  Extended family members with whom I have spent all of my Christmas celebrations are held away by a virus that has captured the world.  Yes, different definitely describes my 2020 Christmas.  

I shed some tears recalling, missing, and even mourning the past.  Good times existed that can never be replicated.  Simple things as my sister’s carefully decorated sugar cookies and mother’s love for spice gum drops cause tears to well up.  Traditions of painting ornaments and making candy are on hold for who knows how long.  It is good to recall those times and memories.  I laugh with those who can remember with me with phone calls texts.  I am sad and blessed in the same moment.  Blessed to have had those wonderful people and moments, yet sad the memory makers are not with me.   

Here lies the choice I have to make.  Do I stay in the past, holding it as some holy grail to never be equaled nor certainly surpassed?  Do I permit the past to cast long dark shadows the present?  Do I accept different  for what it is and move forward?  It sounds like some sappy holiday movie plot with a grumpy curmudgeon needing a renewed holiday spirit, but in reality, I do have a choice to make.  I do have to choose. 

I am riding home from my middle sister’s home late Christmas night.  I listen to Christmas carols and begin to think.  As the carols paint pictures of a manger, angels, shepherds, and a star, I begin to realize the very nature of Christmas is different.  God sent his Son to the world in such a different way than expected.  Political leaders expected a warrior to defeat the enemy and set up a new government.  Religious leaders expected Him to follow the law.   The common people expected stately parents and a comfortable birth in a respectable home.   God surprised them all and ultimately us by choosing different.  Different from what was expected.  An engaged young girl.  A working class man.  A trip across the country.  A birth in a stable with a manger for a cradle.  Third shift low class workers in the form of shepherds to be the first to hear of the King of King’s arrival.  Worship and financial support provided by foreign scholars and astrologers.  All very different than what was expected.  It all began a life that was never what was expected by those who thought they knew.  A life, death, and amazing resurrection that was so not what was expected.  God chose different to be able to reunite with a world He so loved.  

My questions still hover unanswered.  Do I lament my situation is different or do I celebrate the first Christmas Day in my sister’s home in more than a decade?    Do I cry that nothing is the same or do I celebrate that I had Christmas Eve with my adult daughter? Do I lament not spending the entire Christmas day with her or celebrate that she is blessed to have another loving family that is equally desiring her company with their son?  Do I lament not being with my extended family or celebrate technology that allows me to see in real time niece’s and nephew’s joy in opening gifts I could send with a few computer clicks?  Do I cry that I return home to quiet or celebrate the lights on the roof and Christmas tree shining from the window of the house I love and am blessed to own?  Do I lament the loss of those no longer in my life or do I celebrate the unexpected number of calls, texts, and FaceBook notes that let me know friends and family  thought of me on this blessed holiday?   The choice is mine.   

I have chosen to let different mean just that…different.  I choose to embrace the time spent and memories made this year.  No, this season has not been like I thought it would be in my 10 year plan, but it has truly still all been very good.  It has still all been very blessed.  It has still all been very memorable.  It is because I have chosen to celebrate.  

How can I do this? Because of my one constant.  The reason for the season.  Jesus.  He is timeless and already knew what 2020 would be before I gave it any thought.  He was already here with the blessings and gifts.  I had to choose to see and accept those gifts He provided.  Just as those who chose to see and accept a baby in a manger as the the King of Kings, I also chose to accept and even celebrate the different.  I admit like them I did not understand it all, but He does.  I chose to trust that different can be very good in the hands of an awesome God.    

Waiting it something we all must do.  Unfortunately, it’s not associated with pleasure. The term waiting room brings connotations of uncomfortable chairs and stress as one waits to see a doctor. Worse yet is the family waiting to hear news about a loved one’s conditioner outcome. 

Perhaps the most notorious waiting is at the motor vehicle license branches.  It is the home of the “take a ticket, take a seat”.  You just hope your ticket is not 100 and they are serving number 68.  Is there ever a time that place is not busy and one does not have to sit in those ridiculously uncomfortable chairs? 

Even in fun places like amusement parks have us waiting in line for the activities. Sometimes the wait is hours long and seems to never end.  Parks have tried to circumvent the waiting by selling passes for a premium price which permits a person to have no or less wait time.  Needless to say the parks are making a fortune.  

No one seems happy while waiting. It’s a rarity in a waiting room for people to laugh and converse with others waiting. Even in that amusement park ride line, most are not happy.  Children are usually whining and restless. Tired Parent are trying to placate and entertain the little ones while heat and sun take a toll on sunburnt vacationers. Waiting is certainly not my happy place.  

Waiting requires patience and sometimes self control.  It is a goal oriented activity.  I want to ride that ride for bragging rights, so I waited.  I need to see my doctor or renew that license, so I wait.  It is a choice to wait.  We choose to wait to receive the desired outcome.  It is never cool to say “No, Man the ride lines were too long, I didn’t ride it”. I could go to an immediate  care center, but I will not see my physician who knows me and my history.  I could risk getting pulled over and receiving a ticket if I leave now instead of renewing the license.  I have choices to make, if I desire a specific outcome. Will I be goal directed or look for another way out?  

Have you ever heard of Abraham and Sarah?  Talk about waiting.  Abraham was promised to be the father of a nation.  His descendants would be like the dust of the earth (Genesis 13:16) or as many as the stars in the night sky (Genesis 15:5).  What an amazing promise God made to Abraham.  To be the father of a nation and to have a family that would multiply greatly.  What a huge calling.  Abraham was amazed, but told God there was just one problem.  Abraham had no children.  None at all, at 70+ years old.  God continued and promised Abraham he would have a child.  His line would be the one to increase as promised.  Genesis 15:6 states “And Abram believed the Lord…..”  That is the key.  Abraham (he was called Abram at the time) believed God to be true too is word.  He had faith God would bring it all to pass.  This does not mean he did not waiver in the promise.  In Genesis 15 Abraham also asks for a sign that God will do as He promised.  God did not become upset and instead gave Abraham that sign.  Abraham believed.     

Fast forward a few years and guess what had happened?  You got it, absolutely NOTHING.  Day to day life went on without any changes.  There were no children born.  Abraham was around age 81 by now and his wife Sarah was about 71.  Sarah became certain God had forgotten them and the promise He made. She was tired of waiting. Not only was she tired of waiting, but the situation was becoming quite impossible. God must have another way He wanted them to use to gain this promised child.  She decided she needed to do something.  You know, kind of help God out.  In other words she went from tired of waiting to completely impatient.  She did not see the answer coming and began to make the plan her own way.  She approached Abraham about using her servant, Hagar, as a means to gain them a child.  I am sure she reasoned “After all it would still be Abrahams child.”  Surely God, must intended to do it that way as Sarah could not have a baby at her age.  She  convinced herself and even Abraham that God must want it this way.  She began to believe they had misunderstood God’s intent.  It was common in that time for men to have children with concubines, so that must be what God wanted, right?   

Are  you seeing that she forgot one crucial conversation?  She forgot to ask God what He wanted and what He intended. No where in the scripture does it say Sarah prayed or sought God on what to do about Abraham’s descendants.  I am sure Sarah was a woman who believed.  She had seen God move in so many ways before this.  Sarah was only human. Doubt, fear, and her desire for a child began to weigh heavy on her heart.  One of her descendants even wrote in Proverbs 30: 15-16 that a barren womb is one of the things in the world that cannot be satisfied.  Sarah was distraught.  She felt her time had passed and God had forgotten her.  She saw menopause come and go.  She felt all of the changes that happen as time ravages the female body.  Becoming pregnant was not a possibility in her reality.  It quite literally was not physically possible.  So……there must be another way God intended for this all to go down. She just forgot to ask Him.     

I do not have all the answers for why we frequently have to wait on God.  I learned at an early age, that it can be a time of God putting the pieces into place to make the outcome more than I could dream.  I was 17 and had my first job.  I so wanted a car.  Mind you, my job was in easy walking distance from my home.  I had access to my parent’s car for trips I needed and even wanted to make.  I did not really need a car, but boy, did I want one.  I found one in the paper and tried like everything to get my dad to loan me the funds to purchase it.  He said no.  I prayed and Dad still said no and explained that the care most likely had significant problems.  a few months later, I saw THE CAR at a used car lot.  Every time we went by I was so happy to see it still there with the price on the windshield.  Sadly, it was way out of my price range. I was going to save like crazy to buy it.  One day we went by and it was not there.  My car was gone!  I was so frustrated.  God new I wanted that car.  What had happened?  My insult was added to when I found out the older cousin of my best friend had purchased it.  The cousin even drove that thing to church. UGH!!  I ride in with my parents and there sits my car in the church parking lot!  I really had to work on envy, forgiveness, and faith.  I was talking to my mother about it and in my frustration said “Well, if God wants me to have a car I guess He will just need to bring it to the front of the house.”  

Over the course of several months multiple things happened.  My financial situation began to change.  I had money come to me on a monthly basis that I had no idea would be there.  My parents had me put it all into my savings account.  My supposed summer/fall job continued past the date I thought it would end.  I now had a steady part time job and worked all though my senior year.  My friend was gifted his grandmother’s car.  We rode to school together, which let me sleep in some when I worked.  I found out my dream car had been sold from dealer lot that sold a large number of salvaged cars.  Those are cars that had been wrecked, declared total losses, and rebuilt.  My dream car looked great, but had a lot of problems. My friend’s cousin wished she had not purchased it.   

In May just before graduation, I came home to see a different car sitting at my house.  It was not one I recognized.  Unknown to me my dad’s friend, knowing I was preparing to go to a commuter college, had started car shopping for me.  My dad was in poor health at the time and the friend had stepped in to fill his role.  He had gone to a reputable dealer and asked for them to let him know when a car with certain specs came in.  The result was the car sitting in front of my house.  It was just as I had said God would need to do. I can only imagine how God chuckled when I saw that car and realized what it was.  Impatient, tired of waiting, 17 yr old me did not know all that God would do to meet my need for a car.  God had put it all in place in His time.  The car was a trade in that had never been wrecked nor had mechanical problems.  I had sufficient funds in the bank to pay for it.  It was a model I could afford insurance to cover.  It got good gas milage for the time. It was perfect for me.  This was a great car that carried me though 4 1/2 years of college and the first couple of years of marriage. God put His perfect plan into place in His time and the outcome was more than I had ever planned.  

Was this why God had Abraham and Sarah wait?   Did He have things He wanted in place to ensure their child and descendants were going to have all they needed?   Was it a test of faith to trust Him to bring it to pass?  I do not claim to have all the answers.  I do know that when we are waiting we are to not be like Sarah.  We are to continue to follow in what God has set before us.  We are to continue to have faith that He can and will meet the need in the face of what seems like impossibility. Holding on to that faith and waiting can be so very hard to do.  Like with Sarah the enemy will bring those doubts, fears, irritations, and emotions into the mix.  We need to hold to what we have been told.   We need to hold onto the promises we have been given. We definitely need to talk to God during this time and let Him refresh our faith and strength.  

I have often wondered what the world would be like had Sarah chosen to hold on to what God had given her instead of finding her own way.  Abraham did become the father of nations—plural.  Both of his sons inherited the promise to become many and great.  Unfortunately, the battle between the sons began early and continues in their descendants to this day.  Perhaps that is the question we need to ask when those doubts and fears come in.  What will my life be like if I do not trust God to bring the promises He has given?  Will I be where I need to be in few years if I do my own thing now?   Will God still bring His will to reality, but my life be more difficult or less satisfying than it needed to be?  What do I need to work on or what is God showing me during this waiting?  These are good questions for the waiting times.  I pray you have the faith and courage to choose to wait on God to move in His time.   Hold on to Ecclesiastes 3:11 while you wait.  “He has made everything beautiful for its own time.  He has planted eternity in the human heart; yet no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end.” (NLT)  

Green is a favorite color.  My living and dining rooms are green based now. My bedroom was previously.  I have several shades of green in my wardrobe.  It can be warm and comforting.  It can be cool and serene.  It can shock and nearly blind you if you are old enough to recall the 1980’s.  It can also destroy. Of course, now I refer the shade of green that is ultimately ugly on everyone—the shade of jealousy.   

Webster defines jealous as “hostile toward a rival or one believed to have an advantage; intolerant of rivalry or unfaithfulness; disposed to suspect rivalry or unfaithfulness; vigilant in guarding a possession.”  Hostile. Intolerant. Suspicious. Guarding.  None of those bring pleasant connotations nor indicate security.  The words paint insecurity in broad powerful strokes.  Hostile toward another who is perhaps better.  Intolerant of another who has the advantage.  Suspicious or untrusting of another who has what you want.  Guarding of what you have.   Jealousy is grown in the soil of insecurity based on a comparison.  One compares the other with oneself to reach the conclusion the other has more and better,  is undeserving of having what they have received, or will be able to take yours away from you. It grows best when watered with feeling entitled to and then slighted by not receiving the desired reward.  It is a terrible weed in the heart’s garden.  It is much like crab grass.  It is tenacious and difficult to clear out.  The best way is with “pre emergent” treatments.  For the non gardening folks that means you remove it before you ever see any growth.  It is treated before it has a chance to sprout and take root.  The seed is destroyed before it can germinate.  The tender young plant is removed before it can send out sustaining and propagating roots.  

We have established jealousy is ugly, but if so, why is jealousy such a problem?   We need to go back to the beginning  to locate the first jealousy.   In Genesis 4 we find Cain was jealous of God’s acceptance of Abel’s offerings. Able had brought God the best and first of is flock with an attitude of honor toward God.  Able loved God and freely showed it with all he did and gave.  God was so pleased with Able expression of love and worship.  Cain in juxtaposition brought “some” of the harvest of his fields.  He did not give God his best nor do it with the loving worshiping heart of his brother.  Cain may have loved God, but he did not have the same relationship with God that Able had.  Seeing God’s response to his brother’s gift,  Cain became jealous.  Instead cultivating his  own relationship with God, Cain became jealous that Abel received God’s favor.  God even reached out to warned Cain to not let that reaction sit in his heart.  Cain again chose disregard God’s warning with terrible consequences. 

“ God spoke to Caine: ‘Why this tantrum?  Why this sulking? If you do well won’t you be accepted?  And if you don’t do well, sin is lying in wait for you, ready to pounce; it’s out to get you, you’ve got to master it’.  Cain had words with is brother.  They are out in the field; Cain came at Abel his brother and killed him.”   

Genesis 4: 6-8  The Message

Jealousy was the motive for the first murder.  God warned Cain to not let jealousy stay as it would become sin.  He warned it was waiting to pounce.  It was literally trying to take out both brothers.  One with physical death and one with spiritual death.  Interesting that that God told Cain he had the ability to master or control it.  In other words Cain had a choice.  He could have chosen to not let the jealousy stay and become sin.  I do not believe God would have told Cain to “master it” if it were not possible to do so.  It even looked promising as Cain was in the fields with his brother.  Perhaps the initial start to a conversation.  It said they had words.  Perhaps a discussion that went awry when the jealousy raised its head again.  Cain could have walked away to let his temper cool.  He could have talked it out later.  There was a choice.  Cain made a choice.  He chose to let the jealousy sit, take root, and become sin. Sin so great it begat murder. 

I met with my ex husband again.  Unusual circumstances caused me to be in possession of  something sent to me that should have been sent to him.  It was something important and prompted me to have to contact him.   We set up a meeting for the exchange.  I also gave him a couple of items from a box that had been mixed up in my belongings instead of going to him much earlier.  We met in a public parking place that Friday evening.  He arrived in a luxury model/priced SUV (last time it was an even higher priced luxury model sedan).  When he got out he had on a shirt from a trendy/popular restaurant located at some vacation spot.  He had an Apple watch on his wrist.  The diamonds in his wedding ring were flashing in the evening sun.  I kept telling myself to ignore all of this.  It did not matter.  It was not relevant nor important.  I honestly did not want an Apple watch.  I had been to the restaurant on vacation too and was not impressed.  I loved my new SUV that I bought on my own.  What did it matter what he had or did not have?  

Then he asked me if I was happy living in my house.   What?  I went off in my head.  What does that mean?  Why do you care? Why are you asking this when you asked it the last time we met.   Suddenly, it felt like he was knocking my home.   Like it was beneath him and where he would have chosen to live.  I chose my home because the house was a perfect fit for what I wanted and liked.  I did not want a large house with a huge yard.  I had that before and gave it up intentionally.  How dare he demean my choices?!?   I got it in check and told him the truth.  I love my house and am very happy there.  We finished our conversation peacefully as I never verbalized my thoughts to him.   I never made my noticing of his pricey possessions known.  I went on my way as did he.  

I began while abed to pray about the situation and asking God what I was supposed to glean from the meeting.  What was the reason for having to see him again?  Bridges had previously been burned and I thought that was that.  Outside of possible circumstances with our daughter, I had really not expected to see him again.  There must be a reason.  I heard nothing about it from Him.  I prayed off and on all the next day.  I felt restless and mulled over the conversation in my head most of the day.  I even had a dream about my ex the next night.  I woke slightly disturbed because I had been mad at him and expressed it in my dream.  I prayed  again asking “What does this all mean Lord?”  As I sat up on the side of the bed, I clearly heard God say “You are jealous.”  I immediately began to deny the possibility, when BAM! It hit me.  I was jealous.  I was jealous!  Where did  that come from?  How could that have started? 

It was a bit deflating to realize I had let that shade of green to develop.  I started to take stock and realized I was jealous of my ex’s apparent success in finance.   I had done the comparison and was certain I had received the bum end of the deal.  WOW!  I had hidden that one quite well from myself.   I had admitted previously my jealousy regarding the relationship/marriage he had.  I had worked on that from our first meeting and felt I had overcome that landmine.  How could I be jealous of my ex, when God had blessed me so incredibly abundantly in so many ways and from so many sources?   Truth? I was still angry that my ex had messed up our finances so much.  I was angry that I had worked all my life and had not reached the place I thought I would be.  I did not have the retirement account I thought I would have now.  I had to sell our previous home at a loss. I could still see the pittance sum in our savings and checking accounts when I did check on balances. Down deep I was still blaming him for a large part of all of this. Yet, despite this mess up, my ex seemed to have the outward appearance of being financially well off. It really was not fair.

Looking at the past from this new realization of anger and blame, I realized I was a lot like Cain. No, I did not want to kill anyone, but perhaps Cain did not either in the beginning. Like Cain, I was comparing. I was also forgetting, I had not done all I could and should have done to make what I wanted a reality.  I had let my ex manage our finances….alone.  I was not willing to sit down with him and do the work.  When I did see some warning signals, I chose to look the other way instead of investigate and manage. In truth, I held as much responsibility for the financial downfall of the marriage as my ex did. Ouch! That was a large, rough pill to swallow.  I was responsible.  I needed to accept that and let go of the blame game I had been playing.

I began to pray and repent.  I thanked God for all he had provided me and asked for forgiveness for forgetting His blessings.  I asked for forgiveness for not being a better manager of what I had been given in the past. I asked for forgiveness for comparing myself to my ex husband.  I chose to forgive my ex for his part in what happened to our finances.   I asked that no bitterness take root and that God bring healing to my heart in this area.  I asked him to make me a better financial manager with all he has given me now and would give in the future.  I even prayed God would bless my ex husband and his wife. 

I was reminded of the scripture where James and John asked Jesus to put them on his right and left in His kingdom.  When Peter heard the rumor of the request and realized it was true, he became angry.  Jesus reminded him, God chooses who will have which blessings and outcomes in life.  He essentially told Peter he would be a martyr (despite being the rock the church would be built upon) and John would live a long life (it was in exile on a work/prison island).  What did it matter to Peter what God chose to do with/for John?  Neither Peter nor John had the whole picture of what would happen in their lives. If Peter just concentrated on John living longer, it could have consumed him and completely derailed his vital ministry in the early church. It is the same for me.  What business is it of mine what God choses to give my ex-husband?  It is absolutely none of my business.  My business is to live my life and give God the praise He deserves for meeting my needs and blessing me.  I need to trust God to take care of it all and lead me in the path He has for me. I cannot compare myself to others and build my life on what they have or or are doing. I need to be like Peter here and let that go, following God for my life. I admit, that concept was a bit difficult to grab and really hold onto. For the next few weeks I continued to pray and try. After pulling out the first few weeds, the pre-emergent treatment began working.  Yes, I am certain it will need be applied again in other areas, but I know how and to whom to turn to make it successful.    

Bridges are unique structures.  They connect two divided parts of a landscape.  They make it easier to pass from one point to another and back again.   They vary in size, strength, safety, and endurance.  They can be as simple as a fallen log over a nameless brook that will be unusable in a year or as magnificent as a red metal engineering marvel over a huge bay that hallmarks an entire city.  Living near a river city I have traveled bridges for as long as I can recall.  I  was also afforded the opportunity to watch two such engineering marvels rise from the river floor. Months to nearly years of work made me wonder how the hallmark bridges built so long ago were ever accomplished.   It is amazing they still stand and continue to carry loads I cannot imagine.  I digress….

One bridge caused me completely terror and was near my dad’s favorite boating ramp.  As a kid I loved to be on the water and  go fishing with him, but did I ever despise that horrible wooden floored bridge that creaked and clapped with every turn of the truck wheels.  I literally clinched my eyes tightly from the moment the front tires caused the first deck board to clap to the Timothy  back wheels sounded the last groan.  Whew! We made it!  Onward to boat riding and fishing!  The only problem was we had to go back home, so the day ended with another eye clinched, teeth gritted ride across that popping, clapping bridge.  I just now realized I have absolutely no recollection of the view from that bridge despite the multitude of times we crossed it.  It is sad that I let my fear rob me of that little pleasure.  I am sure it is quite pretty as it is near where our favorite smaller river feeds into one of the great North American rivers.   I may have to travel back there someday to actually cross the bridge with my eyes open.  I digress…..again……

We all have bridges in our lives.  Places we cross into new lands and destinations.  Some bridges we build.  Some are built by others before us and mark major life events.  Some we marvel upon and others are nearly unnoticed.  Some are sturdy and allow us to ease between two places as long as we care to or need.  Some are worn,  popping and cracking as we travel the scary span.   Some have such great nostalgia while others have tremendous pain.  Some need to stand  for the ages to allow us to come and go freely and others need to be closed either temporarily or permanently.  Some need to be removed, so that we do not go back to the place where we once were. 

I was having trouble moving forward.  I had recently come through a very difficult time that l shared in another posting.  It was my deepest, darkest time.  I had allowed numbers of spiraling thought patterns to bring me so far down that when I looked back at the land before my divorce it appeared green and lush.  I wanted to go back.  I wanted what I thought was security and normal.  I did not know how I could survive in this new land.  It was not a comforting place.  Nothing about it was normal.  I still felt a lot like the Israelites after leaving Egypt.  They were certain they were going to die of starvation and thirst after being led out of slavery in Egypt.  They began to think of the food in Egypt, but forgot the backbreaking work they did just to be given barely enough to survive.  All they could think was how much better it was in Egypt than what they saw as a barren wasteland to which Moses had led them.  (Exodus 16:1-4 and 17:1-7)  I began to doubt every decision I had made.   I question if I were spiritually right in the divorce. I looked for reasons to be wrong.  Should I have tried harder to make it work? Funny that I did not really want a reunion, I wanted the past.  I wanted a time machine not a bridge to go back.  Ironically, I did not even really want my ex husband.  I just wanted the peace and way of I life I thought I had.  

I had been thinking about bridges.  Burning bridges was a recurrent theme in my thoughts for a couple of weeks.  Russ Taff sings “It’s hard to know which bridges I should cross and which bridge I should be burning” (Farther On, J. Hollihan/R. Taff/T. Taff).  I was beginning to see I needed to burn a bridge. I was not sure how one goes about burning such a huge structure.  See, I had permitted the other side of the bridge to become a type of monument or even a mausoleum in my mind that I would go back to visit.  I could mull over all the dead remains and did so quite regularly.  My solitude was fed by these memories.  Looking over the bridge all I could see was a wasteland in my future world.  I could not fully grasp that I could live in the new world and actually thrive. I held on to the past so tightly,  I could not move forward.  God decided it was time to heal another layer.   

I had already toyed with the idea of talking with my ex husband.  We had unknowingly moved to the same town.  I did fear running into him at a store.  He had asked me for a meeting months prior, but I had quickly declined.   It would have hurt too much.   I was not ready.  We had texted and emailed, but I had not heard his voice nor seen his face since he walked away from our home after the last item we liquidated was sold.  Neither of us even said goodbye.  He had started to say “See you later” as he got into his truck.  He stopped awkwardly at “See”.  I said nothing as I turned to walk to up the deck steps and into the house.    I did not want to break before him.  What does one say in those ending moments?   I found out sometimes nothing at all.  It is life, not a Hollywood production.   

Why was I thinking of opening that door again.  I was surprised when my therapist was supportive of my thought patterns.  He thought it may be good, but was something I had to decide if I wanted to pursue.  It hit me during that session as we talked that one cannot strike the match to set the bridge on fire if one is not at the bridge with matches.  I realized I needed and was supposed to set up a meeting with my ex husband.  

It had been over 2 years since our non farewell.  I was wanting a few answers and some closure.  Closure is the tidying of the loose ends that need taped down.  The proverbial bow on the package.  My dear friend was less supportive of my plan.  She was certain I had lost my mind. I knew my sister of the heart would think such.  I did not tell her until I had the meeting set up. Wanting to ensure I understood what I might be facing,  she poked some very sore spots with point blank questions.  How was I going to react if he was with someone or even engaged?   What if he pleaded to come back and promised to be everything he was not before?  What if he was like he had been when he left and nothing like the man I remembered?  Could I walk away? What did I really hope to gain?  She then said something that made me think she had lost her mind.  She predicated he would not know why he had done any of what he did.   What?  That is largest part of what I was so sure I needed to know.  Of course he knew why he did what he did.  He was there.  He made the decisions he made.  How could he not know why?  Remember she has been in my shoes before.  She had small children and did not have the luxury of never seeing her ex husband again.  She still looked for closure and never really got it until nearly 30 years later. Even then it did not happen like, nor contain what she expected.  Could I be alright if mine was not what I expected?  It made me do more thinking and praying.  Older sisters (of birth and the heart) can be fantastic and even better when they are your friends.   

I contacted my ex husband, requested he pray about meeting and only agree if he received confirmation we should.   He contacted me a few days later stating he thought it would be a good idea.  We had some scheduling conflicts which gave me about 3 weeks to psych myself up to and/or dread the meeting.  I prayed.  I prayed for strength, anger control, peace, to be able to hear what God wanted me to hear,  and to have the right words to say.  I did not want my ex husband in my new home.  It was my sanctuary and contained nothing of him.  I wanted to keep it that way .  I had often heard public places are often the best choice for such meetings.  It can keep emotional outbursts down.  I did fear falling apart, so I chose a restaurant  with high backed booths and little curtains at the top.  It gave some sense of privacy, while the wait staff could be there at any moment.  In another word, it was perfect.  I asked him where he wanted to meet and his suggestion was a deli type chain restaurant with crowded floor plan and nearly all glass exterior walls.  I knew we were not expecting the same type of meeting.  

I will not bore you with all the details of the nearly 2 hour lunch, but there are some priceless nuggets I received.  First, he had a shiny diamond wedding band on his left ring finger.  (Oh wow, Debby was right!)  I could not breathe for a couple of seconds and thankfully he was busy with his coat.  I mentioned the ring and he covered it with his right hand.  He apologized for not telling me.  He quickly confirmed she knew of our meeting and was supportive of him having closure too. When asked he said they had been married for a year.  I did a quick timeline: he moved to Europe, lived with and broke up with the other woman, traveled some in Europe, moved back to the states, met this woman, and married her within a 17months period.  Whew!  My head was spinning.  I immediately realized he and I were not on the same level.  

Secondly, when I finally was able to ask  my why questions his answers were consistently “I don’t know”.  (Debby, if you say ‘I told you so’….).   I did not pound him with the “How could you not know?!?!”  During our talk it was very obvious he had not done any of the emotional work, sorting, shifting, or healing that I had spend the last 18 months attempting to accomplish.  It hit me: The man actually did not know the answers, because he had not tried to discover the answers for himself.  I realized though all of the chasing, changes,  and  catastrophe  he had not come to an understanding of himself nor had the personal growth it brings. He had remained buried beneath everything he could find to cover his hurts in order to keep from facing the root of the problems.  He did not know the answers to my questions,  because he did not want to know.  Unexpectedly, I began to feel pity for him.  I thought I was stuck, but this poor soul was so buried beneath the avalanche he did not know where up was located.   I urged him to seek counseling, to work to find himself, and to give his current marriage a fighting chance.  The new would wear off soon if it has not already.  He had to change to keep this marriage going.  She deserved that chance.  Whew!  That was was so not what I had ever expected to say to my ex husband.  Even more insane sounding was that I meant every word and gave him a card for another Christian counselor in my counselor’s group.  Cherry on top is that I have prayed for he and his wife frequently since that meeting.  I kid you not.  I was not expecting that to happen at all.      

Finally, I realized that my real closure was to confirm  the divorce was necessary.  All I had told my counselor about my ex husband was true.  I had not completely villainized him in my attempts to feel better myself.  He was not a monster, but a severely misguided soul. The past was not better than my present.  It was different, but not better.  He was simply not the man I thought I had married.  We had somehow grown at such different rates.  He had chosen such a different path from mine.  We were no longer a fit.  The actual split made our unevenness more visible  than I had ever thought possible.  We certainly were not on the same level.  Yes, I still cared, and a small part of me will love him until I leave this world.  The much greater truth: I was no longer in love with him nor did I want to be with this person.  I  was able to hug him and say goodbye.   I made a new discovery.  Closure can happen even when questions are not fully answered.  

 I no longer needed to travel the way I had.  The mausoleum no longer drew me back to visit.  God had lain another path for me to travel.  The bridge was burned.   There was still considerable work in sifting and sorting to complete as I traveled,  but forward was my new direction.  

I love my life.  I took a long time for that to be true.  I could not say that even a year ago.  Despite spending time in counseling, praying, reading, and working through my grief and losses I still was not happy with life.  I most certainly was not in love with my life.  I was so like the Israelites in Exodus.  I kept comparing where I was to where I had been.  I was certain I would not make it in the drought of my life. Nothing was the same where I was.  I could not see all of the blessings that were bestowed upon me in the here and now.  I only saw the rivers and fountains that flowed freely in my Egypt from my seat in my current barren dessert.  I longed for the familiar.  I longed for what I though had been security.  I was tired of loss, grief, and change.    

I had lost my mother to an unexpected death a few months prior.  Loosing a parent no matter how old we are is losing the anchor to the past.  My childhood and family of origin were now more remote than ever before.  Even with her dementia she still represented that anchor for me.  The way she lit up with the most beautiful smile, the moment she realized I had come for a visit.  Her dementia mercifully let her forget all the other stuff in life.  That look was love in it’s purest human form.  

Losing her was yet another sea of grief I was not prepared to cross.  I coped by plunging  head first into dealing with her estate.  Cleaning, sorting, painting, signing, and selling were avoidances to keep me from dealing with the real grief. Once it was all tidied up,  I was left alone with my grief.  I muddled through Thanksgiving and Christmas by moving into my new place.  Unpacking boxes can be a great diversion too.  Once that was done, I coped with yet another project. I dove into selling the house my ex husband and I had lived in. One more project to focus upon, so I did not have to think about anything else.  I made it until March.  So yet another project.  Renovate the exterior of my new place.  I made it until May.  I ran out of projects and had to face my grief old and new.  It was not pretty.  It was as hot and painful as the Sahara must be.    

The coupe de grace in my desert was a minor health crisis that required surgery.  I had driven myself to the emergency department desperately trying to talk my body out of doing what I was certain it had done.  The doctor confirmed my suspicions and  I was left waiting alone in a surgery holding room.  I had been here before, in and out of the bed.  I had viewed it dressed  in scrubs, street clothes, and in the hospital gown.  This time it was in a new town and a new young  doctor I did not know.  I prayed and sent text messages until the phone was taken.  Even with the pain meds dulling my thoughts,  I do not believe I had ever felt so alone as I did then.  I remember in my muddled thoughts telling God, “Well it is just you and me.”  I woke some time later, minus an appendix, to my daughter, sister, and niece surrounding me.  My recovery was not good for me mentally—a week at home alone.  A nice floral delivery from the church arrived, but no visits.   Calls from family and friends came on and off over the week.  Of course I assured them all that I was “fine”.  I lied.  I was not fine on so many levels.  

My vision and perceptions were becoming twisted.  I had allowed filters to overshadow and distort all I saw.  I made excuses for those in my life even being there. Friends and family came because I met needs for them—medical advice, financial assistance, free therapy, and other lies.  I let the negative talk spiral me down and down and down.  I was still in therapy twice a month and to my own detriment did not say a word to my therapist about the feelings I was having.  I felt I was never going to be really healed emotionally.  I was exhausted physically and emotionally.  I was not sleeping.  I could not turn my mind off in the evening to get to sleep.  That led to difficulty getting up each morning.  Higher doses of caffeine in the afternoon set me up for another late night.  The cycle was on repeat.  Sleep deprivation added to the physical and mental decline.  

Yes, I knew God was with me.  I knew the scripture that He would never leave nor forsake me.  I just could not seem hold on to it at that time. In honesty, I really did not feel God was with me. How could He really be with me and all of these events happen?  I was trying to hold on, but my hands felt empty.  I had so much focus on the past, the hurts, the losses, I could not see a future at all.  I felt very alone, very useless, and very afraid.  This is exactly what the enemy wanted.  He was quite cunning. He did not come at me full on frontal attack.  He was like the lion that seeks who he may devour.   He worked to cut me off from my herd and Shepherd—inside my own head.  I began to listen to him and lagged further and further behind. That is when the thoughts started coming.  

They were subtle at first.  Nothing was shocking or accusing.  Soft whispers of ideas swirled.  They slowly became more pronounced thoughts.  Unusual thoughts of how others would be unaffected or due to insurance even better off in some ways. A little stronger were the whispers of needing relief. Needing to be unburdened and wanting to be free.  The statements declaring the current pain would be unceasing.  This was life now, a path of pain washed in tears.  The whispers and statements became more pronounced until that day they were screaming at me.  I could not hear anything else. 

I felt so alone.  I was miserable.  I had such pain it engulfed me.  I had lost all I knew—all I had ever wanted.  Gone was the happy home and loving husband.  Gone were the sister and mother that held the family together.  Gone was the house where I had raised my daughter. Every where about me all I could see were ashes of all that had been lost and destroyed in four short years.  I was so tired of the pain that hit as soon as I opened my eyes in the morning.  I was so tired of trying to walk wounded throughout the day.  I was so tired of swimming in grief that came wave after wave.  I was tired of facing it day in and day out.  I was so tired…..   

I had been at my job all day.  I had a mountain of work to do and was not able to concentrate.  I felt inept and incapable.  I did what I could and walked away after everyone else left.  I drove home in a silent car while ideas popped into my thoughts.  The ideas began to link and a plan began to form. The thoughts became more pressured and urgent the longer I let them swirl.  Vague ideas became concrete realizations.  Items I had in the house formed a checklist in my mind.  One crescendo thought took hold:  I could make the pain finally stop.  I could make it so I did not hurt any longer.  I would be free of it all.  I could just slide out and never have to come back.  It all seemed so incredibly easy.  It would be so very simple.  I had no plans with anyone for the weekend.  My daughter was going out of town, for a festival, so she would not be popping in to see me for at least a week.  By the time I was discovered it would be completely done.  I decided I was going to carry out the plan. The pressure of the thoughts increased exponentially.  They were pouncing.  I was so tired……

I pulled into my drive and panicked.  My daughter was there.  She was supposed to be at work.  I was confused.  I felt nearly stuporous. This was not part of the plan.   I quickly entered the house.  She grabbed me and hugged me hard.  She said “Surprise!  I couldn’t think of going nearly two weeks without seeing you.”  She had taken off work to come to the house and prepared dinner as a surprise before she left for her trip.  The web around me shattered.  I cried uncontrollably while she hugged me tightly.  I did not tell her why.  She thought it was a bad day at work.  She had no idea how she had been used to stop the enemy from winning a battle for my life that night.  

I wish I could say I was instantaneously healed at that moment.  I was not.  I was however removed from a terrible spider’s web.  Through a lot of prayer that weekend I poured the last of my hurts out to God.  He listened, comforted, cradled, and spoke.  The cacophony I had heard before was a faint strain.  I began to see how it evolved.  I was reminded of the book by Frank Paretti, This Present Darkness.   For those not familiar with the work, it is a fictitious yet realistic representation of what I believe occurs in the world just beyond our vision. The world where good and evil come to blows in battles invisible to our eyes.  The world Paul speaks of in Ephesians 6.  There are dark spirits that seek to destroy.  They hate us just because God loves us so much He gave His Son to die for us.  They do all within their limited abilities to destroy us.  

Whispers are one of those abilities.  Falsehoods that pop in our thoughts out of the blue.  Lies we mull and connect with others until a web of untruths forms such a distinct pattern it must be truth.  Pressure to believe subtly becomes intense.   Sticky like the spider’s web they cling, but have no strength aside from what we granted them.  Prayer and scripture certainly can dispel the webs and falsehoods completely.  Other times it is a daughter stepping in to prepare dinner to say she loves her mother.   

A few weeks later I did enter a confessional of sorts.  A dear friend who I had not seen for several months called for a dinner invitation.  I know God  placed her there for my confessional and to tie up some loose ends.  I had no intentions of saying anything to her about that twisted experience or plan. I was ashamed to be honest.  I believe God had another plan.  After dinner and a lot of catching up, the story just came spilling out.  I felt like I had vomited.  There was relief in some ways, but what about the mess on the table now?  My friend was shocked I am certain, though she hid it well.  She admitted having no idea I would ever consider hurting myself and much less developing and carrying out a plan.  She listened and most importantly did not judge, nor minimize my feelings in the situation.  Then she did something I did not expect.   She asked I remove the items on my checklist from my possession.  In her wonderful boldness she held me accountable requiring photos of the removal.  I did as requested and sent the photographic proof.  I love her for loving me so much she held me accountable.  Shortly after this I told my counselor of the events.  He, too, was quite surprised I had any such thoughts.   We began working on some new thought patterns and my grief.  

Reader, I have told you this part of my journey for two reasons.  First: If you have any such thoughts enter and take residence in your mind, I pray my story will encourage you that there is another way to deal with the pain.  Please talk to someone.  Please reach out.  If you feel you have no one there are many hotlines to call (see below for some).  Do not let the lies become the web that holds you.  Remember they only have as much power as you give then.  Talking breaks that hold and power.  You can have life spoken into your situation.  Second: If you have someone in your life going through a tough time, please reach out to them.  A phone call, visit, or dinner could save a life. You may never know.  Suicide often does not announce its victims until it is too late.  Be bold enough to talk about it.   

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline

1-800-273-8255

Veterans Crisis Line 

1 800 273 8255

“Why am I discouraged? Why is my heart so sad? I will put my hope in God? I will praise Him again—my Savior and my God!”    Psalm 42: 11  NLT

For the Spirit of God has made me, and the breath of the Almighty gives me life.”   Job 33: 4

Anniversaries.  Dates that are remembered for a notable event.  Interesting that Mr. Webster did not feel the need to describe the notable event and positive or negative.  Just something that had some impact on someone or some people to the point of being remembered.  I have quite a few of those dates.  My daughter’s birthday.  The date I bought my first house.  The dates my dad passed away.  The date of my baptism.  The date of my wedding.  The date I found about the affair.  The dates we celebrate are joyous and special.  The others bring sadness and can stir up pain.  The pain dulls with time.  My dad left this world November 20th over 30 years ago.  I still note it each year, but the pain becomes less with each year that passes.  I still can still feel the feelings. I can still see the sweat on his brow.  I can still recall the song I sang to him as he slowly lost consciousness.  I tear up, but I usually do not full on cry anymore.  I usually call my sister to talk.  We remember the good and reminisce favorite memories.  Occasionally we regret Dad was not here for events or to see his grandchildren born and grow.  Sometimes we talk about hurts from the adult view instead of the child view we had before.  We shared the experiences and can reflect together.  Both of us feel better after.  Healing has occurred with the time that passed.  

May 14th is the day I found out about my ex husband’s affair.  It is a day I will not forget for quite some time.  The pain is less this year than last year.  It is certainly less than the first year.  Interesting that I have no one with whom to really discuss it.  The one person who went through  it with me is not available nor is he the person whom I wish to review it.  I mention it to a few friends and family.  They are supportive and loving, but again they were not there.  The friend who has walked in these shoes before is most supportive and encouraging.  It is difficulty to comfort another if you have not experienced his/her hurt.  I have no ill feelings toward my friends and family that have difficulty relating.  In fact I am happy they do not understand.  

I was in a mood all that week.  I was listless, and had difficulty concentrating at home and work.  I was sad for no apparent reason and coming to tears much more easily usually.  Then I look at the calendar.  The 14th was looming and I had forgotten how close it was.  My injured soul knew an anniversary was just a few days away.  The emotional response I was exhibiting began to make sense and had a cause.  It was nice to know I was not losing my mind or had become a grouchy person.  

The feelings shifted and I became angry with myself.  I was angry that this anniversary still had power over me.  The shoulds came  screaming in from the background.  I should not be affected by dates so much by this point.  I should be over the hurt after this much time.  I should be able to move on without this emotional pansy response.  I should…..  The downward spiral progressed to scream to me that he was not succuming any of these type of emotional breakdowns.  He was certainly not affected like I am.  There were no tears in his eyes on this date.  He most likely did not even know the date my world blew up.  More questions and then accusations poured in through the opening the shoulds had wedged in my mind.  How can you write to comfort others if you are still feeling like this?  You are weak.  You are stuck.  The spiral ends with You are  pathetic.  

All are lies.  I know the lies well.  I have heard them all before.  I pray  and try to block the intrusions.  I realize letting myself go down this road will lead me back in to a murky bog that I have no need to visit much less stay in.  I will be encased in swampy muck again.  I have to turn back the shoulds and their lying cohorts. I have to turn that mind tape off.  In attempts to find some stable ground I push the feelings down. I shove them under and get through the work day.  I refocus and try my best to work. I whisper another short prayer for strength.   

After work I am left alone without distractions of work and “the” weekend stretching out before me.  The shoulds try to play their tirade of lies when I am alone.  It cause all the negative and self deprecating emotions to rise again.  TV and a movie provided some distraction to thwart the thoughts.  When the credits rolled the memories began to rise again.   It can be so very difficult to run from your own head.  I have developed  a new understanding for PTSD and substance abuse.  I do not reach for a substance, but I have found a new understanding of wanting something to shut the voices, if you will, off for a while longer.  Like distraction, the substance induced relief is temporary.  For me it is not worth the hang over and complications that will be there when the pain rises again. However, I do understand how one might fall onto that path.     

Time to practice what I preach right?   Time to be real and deal with these emotions.  It is past time to dig down to the foundation of what is true, rest on the truth, and from there, deal with my emotions.  I close my eyes and whisper another payer.  I tell God it still hurts.  I tell Him I wish I did not feel this way.  I tell Him I am tired of the hurt.  I tell Him I wish I were indifferent to it all.  I tell Him I want to forget.  I tell Him I want to forgive.  I tell Him I am angry, disappointed, and frustrated.  I then ask Him to take the pain and the rest of the hurt.  I ask Him to heal me.   

I then let the memories begin to fill my screen.  I see the look on his face that day.  I hear the dejection in his voice as he realizes he is caught before he wanted his secret out.  I hear him say “Yes, there is someone”.  I hear him defend her to me.  I hear my anger and venomous responses. I hear my lashing out.  I hear the hardness in his voice.  I feel the bewilderment as he walks out.  I feel the knife as it hits the mark and pierces my heart completely.   I feel the tears spill then ….and now.  I allow myself to feel it.  I acknowledge feelings: The hurt, the anger, the rejection, the disbelief, the brokenness.  I realize they have not gone away as I so desperately want.  I ask God again to heal me.  Above all the noise and feelings I a song playing in the background from my play list.  It is one I have not heard for a long time.  I listen as it plays at His direction for this moment.  

When a relationship ends we often seek the why. I believe when infidelity causes the break this need to find the why is magnified.  Why was there a need for another person? Why did he choose to do this?  Why did he choose her? The real question is…Why wasn’t I enough?  We look for faults and defects inside of ourselves that produced the behavior in the spouse.  We become embroiled in all of the I was not thin, not pretty, not sexy, not successful, not providing and all of the other nots that can become mantras if we let them.  We compare ourselves to the other person as if they were a mirror showing what we lack.  We blame her for “stealing” the husband, when she did not cause  the husband’s behavior. Fact: Jolene would not have stood a chance if the singer’s man did not have major issues inside of him.  The truth is we will never find the root of a spouse’s behavior inside us.  When a person chooses to be unfaithful, it honestly speaks way more about him/her than it does about his/her spouse. I repeat: Your husband/wife’s unfaithful behavior has so much more to do with him/her than it ever does with you.  

I had a difficult time accepting this truth. I wanted to blame so many other things, situations, and events that were surrounding us in that four years. My absence from home, pressures of caring for my sister, my depression, my weight gain, my depression med side effects… my my my my.   All things that were inside me.  Those may have been some contributing catalysts, but those factors were not the cause of my ex husband’s behavior.  That behavior had roots deeper and more prolific than any surrounding situation.  Only when I began to realize this was a repeat offender situation, did I finally begin to accept the truth.  The problem was not me. The problem was inside him.  I had to accept that there was an inability to be faithful inside of him. I had to finally accept that it was not any specific thing I did. It was not anything that I did not do. It was something inside him that pushed him to fulfill a need.  Looking at our situation, I began to realize he needed something that was only found in the early stages of a relationship.  That is the reason he had so many emotional affairs.   That is why the first several years of our marriage were really good.  Whatever he was needing was being met, so things were good.  He was good.  When that need began to not be met, he began to look for other sources.  This let to the affairs and the multiple affairs at the end of our marriage. To my knowledge he never identified nor dealt with whatever hurt or damage that was causing him to have such need.  He never looked within to discover the source of the needs.  He never sought to be healed.  He just reached for another affair bandaid to patch the hole for a while.   

Often times these hurts and damage that produce behaviors in adulthood occur through childhood events.  It does not have to be overt abuse or exploitation that first comes to mind. Damage can occur with seemingly smaller events that send definite messages.  We can even have had decent parents and fairly stable upbringing.  It may not have been realized at the time by the perpetrator as a hurting or damaging event.  Unfortunately the damage happens and, if not healed, sets a pattern of beliefs and responses for us that can perpetuate our entire lives. In 2 Corinthians 10:3-5 the Apostle Paul talks about these strongholds as human reasoning and false arguments that keep us from knowing God.   

“We are human, but we do not wage war as humans do.  We use God’s mighty weapons, not worldly weapons to knock down the strongholds of human reasoning and to destroy false arguments.  We destroy every proud obstacle that keeps people from knowing God.”  2 Corinthians 10:3-5  NLT

The beliefs we develop because of these injuries and damage are based on human reasoning and not truth.  They actually keep us form knowing the truth of God.  We believe the lie that comes with the damage and not what God says of us.  Fortunately we are given “mighty weapons” as Paul describes to  knock down these strongholds and destroy the false arguments.  Paul does not use battle language lightly here.  It is a battle.  It takes place in the mind, but it is a war we must fight daily in order to win.  Scripture, prayer, and renewing our minds are what must be used daily to defeat these strongholds and false arguments.  

My dad was a decent guy, but not a good dad in many ways.  Part of that was because of the damage he had suffered at the hands of his parents.  I see that now, but as a child and young adult that was not so apparent.  In 4th grade I brought home a report card with straight A’s and one B- in penmanship.  When Dad saw the card his only comment was that I had better not let the B- slid any lower.  That was it.  No comments on the other subjects I had excelled in.  No accolades for hard work and study.  I was so hurt, but thought to myself, he was right.  I needed to do better.  The message I received was that other excellence was expected.  I worked on penmanship and cursive writing. My handwriting became much more legible and I raised my grade.  

To be honest I do not recall my dad looking at my report card again until the 6th grade.  I brought home straight A’s across the board.  I was in the highest reading/language and math classes my school offered.  I was doing 8th and 9th grade math in the 6th grade.  I was reading at a post high school level.  I was certain he would be proud of my accomplishments.  I handed him the report card at the dinner table and awaited his proud response.  He looked at the card front to back and laid it down on the table between us.  He did not say a single word about the grades, the class levels, the hard work, the weather, the food, the sky, nor anything else.  He did not speak for the rest of the meal.  Shortly after I asked to be excused and went to the furthest point in the house from the dining room to cry.  I was crushed.  I had worked so hard and been very successful, but he refused to acknowledge my accomplishments. 

Most kids would have rebelled and chosen a why try attitude.  Grades would have crashed and other behaviors ensued. I chose an “I’ll show him” attitude and my stronghold was born.  I chose to continue to excel in whatever I did no matter what he did or did not say.  I decided I did not need his approval nor support for anything.  I would do it on my own and for myself.  It was a pivotal moment in my life that my dad was completely unaware he had spurred.  It set me on a course of success, but at a great cost.  See, I really did want my dad’s approval.  I really did want to hear my dad say he was proud.  I carried a constant fear that I was not enough.  I was constantly looking to improve and prove I was enough. I pushed myself everywhere.  College, work, and marriage, were all influenced by this drive. It led to anxiety, fear, depression, trust issues, and a myriad of other angsts. Unfortunately, my dad never did say he was proud of what I had done or become.  He passed away when I was 22 years old without my ever hearing him say the words I so wanted to hear. 

I carried that constantly seeking his approval in me for nearly another decade.  It influenced my relationship with my husband and even with my heavenly Father, God.  I was going through counseling at the time of my ex-husband’s first affair when the issues with my dad were raised.  It was the feeling of never being enough rooted in me that needed to be healed.  It was at that time, I first began to heal from the damage encountered at age 11.  Talking with my mother about the counseling some years later, she told me Dad told others how proud of me he was.  He bragged on my accomplishments to friends and neighbors.  During his last couple of years, he even told the nurses during his recurrent hospitalizations.  Often it would be just after I would leave from visiting.  He just never told me.  Mother did not know why he chose not to share his feelings with me.  Perhaps my continued successes made me appear to not need it. It was good to know, even exo facto, Dad was proud of me.  

Several years after his death, I found a packet of letters my dad’s family has written to him during Army boot camp and the early years of WWII. He had kept all of the letters in a box for 40+ years. In those letters from his dad and mother, none contained one single line of encouragement or pride in what their son was doing. Home life were shared and warnings to not become involved in sinful activities were prevalent in those lines . There were requests to remain safe. There were no lines that spoke of my dad voluntarily enlisting to serve his country. There were no statements of parental pride in their son’s endeavors or accomplishments. It was only then did I realize how my dad had suffered what I had. He was never shown parental pride. He was expected to reach that high set bar without encouragement or accolades. My dad had never received parental encouragement. He never learned to give it. I realized my dad had damage too.

I do not know what happened to my ex-husband that produced the needs which caused him to seek others.  He never shared that with me.  After the first affair, I thought with counseling, prayer, and the inner work he had healed just as I had started to with my damage experiences. I  thought we were set.  I do not know what he needed nor why it came around again and again.  I do know it was not something lacking in me that caused him to seek someone else.  I know it was not something I did. I know it was not something I did not do.  I know he was seeking something to fill a void which damage had left in his life.  He was believing a human argument and following a stronghold.  I also know he was looking in the wrong places to fill that void.  He was looking for another person to fulfill that need.  He was not looking within to find the problem.  I know as long as he continues to follow that practice—that stronghold—he will not be successful in meeting the need nor receiving healing.  I know he needs to seek healing from the One that is able to repair his damage. It is the same one that gives us the power to knock down strongholds and destroy human arguments.  I can say with all honesty, that I hope one day he can.  I hope one day he can fully receive the healing he needs.  It took a long time for me to come to that.  I too had to heal.   

“My child pay attention to what I say.  Listen carefully to my words.  Don’t lose sight of them.  Let them penetrate deep in to your heart, for they bring life to those who find them and healing to their whole body. Guard your heart above all else, for it determines the course of your life.”      Proverbs 4: 20-23  NLT

“Anyone who listens to my teaching and follows it is wise, like a person who builds a house on solid rock.  Thought the rain comes in  torrents and the floodgates rise and the winds beat against that house, it won’t collapse, because it is built on bedrock.  But anyone who hears my teaching and doesn’t obey it is foolish, like a person who builds a house on sand.  When the rains and floods come and the winds beat against that house, it will collapse with a mighty crash.”        Matthew 7:24-27 NLT

When a relationship is broken it is rarely one event, one single episode that causes the demise.  There are a series of event that happen.  Often it is over years these events large and small bring changes and damages.  There can be small cracks and broken places that were not managed well and only patched with surface, aesthetic repairs.  Underneath the sheen are weakened areas. They may appear strong, but have poor structural strength.  Looking back, I can see the cracked and broken places in my marriage foundations.  Times we did not invest and complete the repairs.  Times we did not let God do a deep work to really fix the broken inside of us.  We needed that individual healing to successfully work to repair our marriage.  I have said it before.  Marriage is work.  Marriage takes upkeep, maintenance, and sometimes repairs.  An unhealthy worker cannot work effectively.   Spiritual spackle cannot repair a hurting person.  An emotionally damaged person cannot build a solid relationship.  Like any house we buy and invest in,  we have to keep working to protect and nurture it. If we begin applying spackle to wet dry wall, we will lose our investment.  We will lose it all.

Divorce brings so many negative feelings, emotions, and even self judgements.  Our need to find a cause and blame.  These emotions are part of what I needed to unpack and manage in order to heal.  Counseling was a safe place for me doing this unpacking and managing of my thoughts.  During this unpacking I found two self judgements I did not entirely expect to find.  I was more than surprised when I found myself knee deep in them.  The first surprise was feeling much less than intelligent.  No, really, I felt so stupid.  All of the “How could I…” statements.  How could a woman of my education and success have been, so duped to not question so many of the events and responses surrounding my ex husband?  How could I not have seen the proverbial handwriting on the wall stating there was something greatly amiss in my marriage life?  How could have I blindly trusted someone so completely with finances and been left with so little?  How could I have believed in him so completely and he just walk out?  How could have I not known something was greatly amiss in the relationship.  New love can be blind, but we had been married for so long, I thought we had 20/20 vision.  It was not like I had not lived some of this before.  Yet here I found myself on Deja Vu River.  This time without a paddle.  Was I really that stupid? 

Self doubt came rolling in second.  If God had even put us together.  Surely, I had missed warning signs when we were dating.  I had prayed for the man God had chosen for me.  I fully believed it was my now ex husband.  Had I been wrong?  Had I heard incorrectly from God? I was so certain this was the person I was to build a life with.  The person with whom I was to partner with in some form of ministry.  Did I have it wrong from the beginning?  Even our wedding invitations began with “seeking God’s will for their lives and believing that includes each other….” Was our union not part of God’s will?  How could I have thought this is what God wanted?

One therapy session was a shocker for me on some levels.  I had been pounding these questions.  I had been wanting answers.  Various memories had been playing out in my mind all week before the session.  The time I saw several women’s names in his phone.  I told myself it was work contacts as he did not have a separate work phone.  The time he would not let me use his phone camera, but took the photo for me.  He was fearful someone would text while I had the phone.  The time the debit card was declined at the grocery store for insufficient funds.  Explained that he made a couple of double payments on some bills to get ahead.  The money went for credit card payments, but  for credit cards I did not know existed.  The sudden shopping for my Christmas presents on Etsy when I did not know he realized the company existed.  The  constant computer obsession resulting in coming to bed late.  Actually due to time zone differences of his many on line women friends.  There were so many other red flags flying near the end it should have been painfully obvious.  

 Denial is a strong defense, but it has a low long term success rate.  In that therapy session, I finally had to admit that I did know. I did realize something was greatly amiss.  I did see the difference in who he had become.  I had seen this behavior pattern before—specifically twice before.  I had experienced the same intuition sensations before.  Yet, I did nothing.  I had chosen to not completely put the puzzle pieces together this time.  I did not want to deal with the picture they made once again.  I did not have the emotional energy to take on another battle.  I had fought for my sister, wrestled with God, stood beside my dying father in law, and struggled with my mother’s decline.  I was all out of fight.  My tanks were completely empty.  Before, I had been the one to step up and say enough.  I had been the one to confront and set boundaries when behaviors reached levels that threatened our marriage.  I had been the one that stayed true.  I had been the one to forgive, so we could try again.  I had been, but I could not be again.   

I spend a lot of time driving for work. This is thinking and often prayer time.  I had been having thoughts.  Why were we married?  Where were the new dreams we could share? What was going on in his head?  Why was he becoming so distant?  What do I really want?  Unaware that he was starting an affair, I realized I was weary of being in a marriage without a partner.  I realized I wanted more.  I tried to talk to him, but received answers of “nothing is wrong” or “I’m fine”.  He closed off and I made a choice.  This time I chose to not push. I chose to not intervene.  This was not because I did not want nor love my him.   My deepest hope was that my husband would see his own errors and make the efforts to change this time.  He knew where his continued actions would take us.  I had set those boundaries stating I wanted to be together, but at the same time would not tolerate another infidelity.  The trust in our marriage would not survive another emotional  or a physical affair.  Without trust there would be nothing to hold the foundation together.  I so very much wanted him to be the one to step up.  I wanted him to choose to be true. I spent the majority of that therapy session sobbing in this new admission and my crumbling denial.    

The bittersweet portion of this came when I realized I was not the idiot I was certain I had become.  The “How could I….” became “I chose to ignore.”  I chose to believe lies.  It was easier than attempting to deal with the truth on empty tanks.  It was a delay tactic.  I was believed there was more time to return to a loving marriage.  I was sure things would never go “that” far.  I was very wrong. Perhaps that leaves me unwise at worst and a wishful thinker at best.   

I still believe we were put together in God’s plan.  I also believe this was not the outcome of God’s perfect will.  God was disappointed too.  He wanted something different for us.  I still believe when we were securely anchored in Him, God used us to reach and minister to several people.  Some, maybe never reached before.  I still believe we did find God’s will for our lives.  Just like Eve with the snake in the garden, sin was permitted to come into the relationship.   We did not let God do the deeper healing work needed to completely repair the marriage foundation the first time it cracked.  We let our own superficial repairs replace structural soundness. In essence,  we permitted the bedrock to be replaced with sand.  

Where does this leave me?  Am I as guilty as my spouse in the demise of my marriage for not intervening?  In some ways I am guilty in the demise of the marriage.  It does take two…right?  (By the way that took a long time for me to be able to admit.)  It is true that I did not step up to try to save my marriage again.  I am guilty of wanting the situation to be different this time.  I am guilty of of choosing to not rescue my ex husband again. I am guilty of maintaining the boundaries I previously set.  I have asked myself and my counselor, if I had intervened—ran to the rescue again, would the marriage have survived?  I really do not believe it would have.  Not this time.  Even disregarding the relationship he left to pursue, there were too many other emotional relationships he developed.  This was not a crack, but a wrecking ball hit.  There were severe foundation chunks missing in our marriage.  We lost our partnership. We were not equally invested in the marriage or each other—perhaps for quite some time.  The cloying sin of lust and its associate pornography had sank some pretty deep hooks into my ex husband.  I had thought so many times he was free of this bondage, but obviously the hooks were still embedded.  I was running on empty and had not taken care of myself emotionally.  All of these placed wedges in those foundation cracks.  When the wrecking ball hit, the cracks spread wide.  They left our marriage wide open to the onslaught of the perfect storm that hit.  The floods came rolling.  The house washed away.  

A recent comment on the blog site caused me to realize something was missing on the blog. The comment agreed with my writing about the lack of social rituals to bring comfort and support surrounding a divorce. Without those societal rituals and practices, we are left to find our own individual way through a difficult time. I walked out of the attorney’s office and thought “Now what do I do?”  The blog comment made me consider what resources did I use to make it through that dark time?  Taking inventory I realized there were several I was blessed to locate and utilize.  I listened and listened again to the videos.  I read and reread many the books.  I researched some other writings and teachings from the authors and speakers I was drawn to.  It may not have been specifically for divorce, but many of the teachings were applicable to my grief and hurt.   Where else dose one look for these things?  Yes, I began with internet searches.    

 My first inclination was to find a divorce support group. It made sense to meet and talk with others in similar situations.  I reside in a bedroom community of a larger city. I wanted to find a church based support group.  I began looking on line and at several local churches’ websites.  I was about to be surprised.  I found two church based divorce support groups for nearly 700,000 people.  TWO!  One met during the day which made it impossible for me to attend while working. The other had a definite beginning and end date and followed a specific program. It cycled through the church calendar two to three times a year. It would not be available again for several months as it was mid cycle when I learned of it.   Someone had recommended I could attend a hospice support group for grief, but that did not seem to be quite what I was looking for. Death and divorce are quite different.  (I have nothing against hospice. Working in the medical community I fully support hospice and the work that they do.)  Other non-church-based divorce groups were also quite scarce. The couple of meetings I found appeared to be more of a fresh meat market—A.K.A.  Tinder in person.  I needed a place to learn to heal, not to make a huge mistake.  I quickly realized divorce support groups were not going to be possible for me.  I encourage you to look for what is available for you in your area.  If that is what you need, I pray you find a different situation than I did.   

I chose to find a personal counselor.  I have already spent quite a bit of time writing about the way counseling helped me. I am a great advocate for sound Christian counseling.  As huge a boon  as it was for me it was not a stand alone healing source.  A weekly one hour counseling session was not going to heal me.  Even multiple sessions a month would not provide sufficient work to complete this healing. Yes, I said work. It is work to tear out old and repair or even replace with new.  Dressing changes take supplies and effort.  I realized early that I needed to put in both if I was going to fully recover.  The work in the counseling sessions was very good, but the work outside the counseling sessions I believe is what brought the most change.  I had to spend time considering, managing, and dealing with all of those hurts wounds and emotions we discussed during the session.  I needed  supplies to complete these dressing changes.  I needed some skills I did not really have.  I researched, asked others, and found some wonderful supplies and tools.  Some of the tools that I used we’re books written by those who had walked a similar path before.  A few  were conversations with friends and loved ones who had been where I was. Some were EMDR sessions with a certified therapist.  Others were videos available through church ministries and even YouTube. Below is a list of some of my favorite tools.  

Of all the tools I used, I am certain prayer and discussions with God were the most effective in my healing. I had to go see that perfect judge several times to pour out my heart cases one by one. Sometimes I would run in there to bring an additional charge to previous leveled charges.  Each time I was allowed to be as dramatically loud or whisper quiet as I needed to be. Each time He heard me.  Each time He permitted me to empty my hurts. Each time He was so patient and kind.  Each time He let me know how very much He loved me.  I also had to work so hard to leave everything there when I left the judge’s court room. It was after these times He would speak.  A certain song on the radio, a Christian meme on a social media posting, a scripture during devotionals, a still small voice directing me to know He heard and was answering.   The quiet reassurance that He had me and I needed to rest in Him.  

Even when some one is recuperating there is a process going on.   Aware of it or not there is work being done.  Let me say it was WORK.  Some of it was exhausting work I was fully engaged in.  There were times I did not want to do the work.  I was so tired of crying.  I was so tired of dealing with all of the hurts and wounds.  I was so tired of not feeling like I was moving forward.  I was so tired of not feeling whole.  I was so tired of this consuming my life.  Some times I just sat down.  I could take no more.  Netflix became a great comfort and escape during those times.  A weekend trip with my family and/or friends to get away was a relief.   I needed time away to rest and refocus.  Whether I was aware of it or not,  there was work being done at those times too.  After resting I would  I knew I had to get back up again.  I had to complete the healing work process to prevent the bitterness and anger from taking me over.  Sometimes it was so difficult.  It would have been so easy to just give in to the sluggishness.  Some days it still can be.  Some days I had to just take a deep breath, pray, and push on.  It was truly a “no pain,  no gain” situation. 

During the process, I would become so frustrated and impatient. I would develop a case of the “shoulds”  I should have known.  I should be “better now.”  I should not have to still be dealing with this memory, response, or emotion again.  I should…I should…I should.  Each I should was a striking blow to my self.  I would beat myself up so needlessly.  I would become my own worst enemy.  There is no ‘should’ in recovery.  There is only ‘here is where I am and here is what is before me’.  Sometimes the picture we see is pretty ugly.  Sometimes it is the same picture we have seen several times before.  Sometimes the picture is distorted and needs refocused that need.  Sometimes the picture is so jumbled it appears it never be sorted.  It takes the time.  It takes time to process and deal with the wounds.  There are no short cuts.  We have all heard the joke about the person who finishes all the steps of a 12 steps of a program in a week.  If it were only that easy we would not live a world full of hurt, damaged people.  In truth, the work takes time.  How long?  It takes as long as it takes. 

Surgical wounds take maybe six weeks to heal in nice linear scars if everything goes perfectly. Complications may arise that require more time.  There can be post surgical fluid formations that impede healing.  These require a reopening of the incision and draining.  Infections can set in causing red, painful areas that require antibiotics. The body goes into fight mode and healing is delayed until the infection is gone.  The person may not have the metabolic/nutritional status to support wound healing .  Nutrient support must be restored for the healing to even begin. Some wounds cannot be closed in nice lines and need to heal from the base up. These deeper, wider wounds require packing and protection to allow healing to begin.  It takes even more time.   All of these  wounds heal at their own rate and timing.  Becoming frustrated  and  smacking the wound around, does nothing to bring healing.  In fact those actions will bring more damage and make existing fragile healed areas damaged.  Patience is required.  Be patient with yourself.  Be kind to yourself.  Give yourself the time you need to heal.  Patience is not being stuck. 

Over a year ago, during a counseling session I admitted a huge case of shoulds and expressed my frustration for not feeling like I was ever going to be free of the hurt.  My counselor told me “One day you will wake up and realize it is all done.”  He then smiled and said, “but not today.”   Honestly, I thought the man was nuts and just repeating some nice psychological platitude.  I so could not see that healing coming to completion .  For me the intense part was a two and half year process of counseling to learn, to work, to heal.  He was right I did wake one day and realize how far I had come.  I still had some healing to do to be back to 100%, but at this time I am able to use the tools I gained to continue the process.  The wound did not hurt as much.  There was significant healing,  It had happened.  Having patience with myself was not being stuck.  

Below I list some of the resources that I utilized specifically. Disclosure: I have absolutely no financial ties to any of the resources or persons listed.  I receive nothing if you choose to purchase or use them.  I do not personally know nor have any ties to the authors/speakers.  My only goal is to aid you and maybe save you a little time. I urge to reach out and find your support system.  Find tools and resources to help you work and heal. 

YouTube Videos

Dr. Henry Cloud: Necessary Endings–Multiple videos from 2018—he has posted some updates since then 

Jimmy Evan: The Hurt Pocket series–Videos from 2015

Books

Evans, Jimmy,  “When Life Hurts: Finding Hope and Healing From the Pain You Carry”, Baker Books, Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, MI, 2013

Evan, Tony, “Divorce and Remarriage”, Moody Publishers, Chicago, IL, 2012

West, Kari & Quinn, Noelle, “When He Leaves”, Harvest House Publishers, Eugene, OR, 1998.

Gire, Ken, “Life As We Would Want It…Life As We Are Given It”, W Publishing Group, a Division of Thomas Nelson, Inc. Nashville TN, 2006

Rothschild, Jennifer, “Psalm 23 The Shepherd With Me”, LifeWay Press, Nashville, TN 2018.

Change: to make, to become different.   How many times has my life changed?  How many times has my life become different.  Some were changes I wanted and worked toward—Graduations, new jobs, the birth of a child. Pleasant yet definite changes.  Other changes  were thrust upon me— the death of a family member, a loss of a friendship, an illness. Painful times of change.  All changes good or bad bring levels of stress as we try to find a new way to function in and after the change.  We have the Holmes-Rahe Stress Inventory to measure the stress weight of those changes in our lives.  The death of a spouse is listed as number one.  Divorce is number two.  Marital separation, detention in jail, and death of a close family member rounds out the top 5 most stressful life events.  Death and separation are huge stress factors for we humans.  Interesting that those are the same factors that stress us spiritually: Death in sin and separation from God.  I digress…

Divorce is a completely different change. It is one I had never experienced.  I had never walked beside a loved one going through it.  I had absolutely no knowledge of how it changes everything. I had my share of unwanted, and even unpleasant changes.  I have had people come into my life for seasons, who left when that season was over.   I had experienced the death of a dad and a mother-in-law and loss of foundational supports those deaths bring.  I have experienced loss of a career and the need to change trajectories to start again.  I have experienced uncertain change in illness and surgery accompanied by the changes necessary for recovery.  Painful and difficult as each may have been, none of those changes prepared me for the change of divorce. It happens so frequently in our society, I believe we have universally forgotten the stress weight divorce wields.  We have forgotten it is ranked number two on the scale for a reason.  Similar, yet so unlike a death, divorce changes everything.

After having been married for so long, being divorced was such a new and strange place to be.  There were times I felt it to be an almost physical change that others could see. I often felt the equivalent of a 12 year old girl sure everyone was looking at her as she enters the mall.  I was certain they just knew the other half of me was missing.  As unrealistic as it sounds, it was how I felt.  I was certain there was no need to embroidery a crimson D on my chest. It was already clearly visible.  

There was little being divorced did not influence.  Conversations with people was one of the worst to learn to navigate.  I was in a new church meeting new people.  I would think of something to share in conversation, but my stories often included my ex husband.  This caused two problems.  First, did I really want to remember and talk of him?  Secondly, if I mentioned him there was usually an expectant look of  “Where is he?”  Then came the “Well…. we are divorced” statements accompanied by looks of “Oh” and “Well” that followed.  (People do not say “I’m sorry” to divorce news like they do with a death.  Are they afraid the person is happy s/he is divorced? I do not know.)  For me it became easier to engage in superficial conversations.  The weather was a safe topic.  Living in a small town, I was frequently running into common acquaintances that did not know about the divorce.  My favorite Chinese restaurant owner, my preferred bank teller and branch manager, the mutual friends/coworkers I ran into at the grocery, all asked about my ex.  I ultimately would feel the obligation to inform them.  I just could not seem to say “he’s fine” and move on.  That was a lie, because I did not know how he was.  Besides I was still having days I wished he was not fine.  (Remember forgiveness is a process.) There were times “I am divorced!”  seemed to be what I needed to shout when I entered somewhere.  Fortunately, I did not go there.  I settled for the one on one information sessions. It  became easier to shop, eat, and bank elsewhere.  More and more changes…

The change of divorce left me alone, but it did not evoke the sympathy from others that a death does.  Many were surprised, some even shocked, but few were specifically sympathetic. They were the ones who had been divorced. I believe the lack of sympathy is the result of us wanting to blame someone for a divorce.  Someone did something wrong that brought the marriage to an end.  There is always speculation on the why and who did what.  How many times have we heard of a divorce only to recount the time we saw the neighbor couple arguing, or thought s/he was being too friendly with that other person?   We cannot exactly blame someone for dying of a heart attack, now can we? 

We have a process for a death.  There are newspaper and internet obituaries to spread the word. There are church, funeral home, ash spreading, and/or graveside services.  There are stones chosen , engraved, and set for memorial.  There are no social processes for a divorce.  There are no specified times of gathering for support.  There is only signing papers in an attorney’s office. Court proceedings occur if things are ugly.  There is no laying the relationship to rest.  No memorial stones were lain for the previous love and 27 years.   

Divorce was not like death in that the other person did not have a choice if the heart attack occurred.  My ex husband did have a choice.  He made a choice to say he wanted a divorce.  I lamented one day in therapy that the situation would have been easier for me in some ways, if my ex-husband had physically died and not simply chosen to move on. (No, I did not want him dead.) It was simply the fact, that I knew how to deal with a death.  I knew how to cope and get through the funeral and church dinner. I knew how to manage and process the grieving of a death.  I did not know how to deal with a divorce.  I did not know how to manage the grief plus the anger, resentment, hurt, rejection and at times despair that impaled my life. I did not know how to navigate these uncharted waters to move on. 

When a loved one passes, they exist no more on this plane.  There is a finality to it, lightened by the hope of being reunited in heaven.  Divorce is so different because the other person is still here in this plane—alive and moving on.  This knowledge was so burdensome for me to live within. The knowing my ex-husband was still living, but without me. He was starting a new life, but without me. He was seemingly moving on quite successfully, but without me. Unlike the promise of heaven, there was no future silver lining I could look forward to finding.  

I was left alone to deal with the physical and emotional aftermath of his exit. He was on a grand adventure, while I was selling wedding rings to assist my daughter in paying her tuition.  While he was visiting historical ruins and great museums, I was trying to find a good used car.  While he was seeing the lights along the River Thames, I was trying to change utility accounts to my name. While he was living with another woman, I was trying to obtain my life insurance beneficiary change forms.  I don’t list these events as anything more than facts. I have forgiven him, though forgiveness does not erase the events or reality of what occurred. It does not magically eliminate hurts. In my head and heart I had to deal with all of these facts and my responses to them.  

In Raw I write about some of my initial responses. These later responses are some of the additional wound dressing changes—painful and tedious dressing changes.  Times I had to choose to not let bitterness drift in and take root.  Times I had to find ways to let my anger out without becoming cynical and jaded.  Those methods included a few trees surrounded by shards of his favorite mugs and dishes.  It included verbal yelling out frustrations and fears into pillows.  It included multiple journal writing screaming sessions (I do have neighbors). It included talks with family and friends.  It included tears.  So many tears poured.  I was certain dehydration was a possibility.  It also included a great deal of prayer.  Praying for release from this pain. Praying to be healed.  Praying to feel whole again.  Praying to be at peace in my own heart.  Praying for God to just hold me and then surrendering to that embrace. 

 While praying one of these prayers, I had an image of myself as a toddler that was being held by someone standing, dressed in white robes.  I was, back arched, kicking and screaming as only a hurt, angry toddler can.  A child not understanding the situation. The one holding me was gentle, strong, firm, and patient as he continued to hold me.  He was also silent, letting me get it all out until there was no more.  When I was spent He continued to just hold me as I, slumped shouldered, rested my head on his shoulder.  

Rich Mullins wrote a wonderful song that so summed up where I was at that time.  

Hold Me Jesus

Sometimes my life just don’t make sense at all

When the mountains look so big, 

And my faith just seems so small

So hold me Jesus,

Cause I’m shaking like a leaf

You have been King of my Glory

Won’t you be my prince of peace

And I wake up in the night and feel the dark

It’s so hot inside my soul

I swear there must be blisters on my heart

So hold me Jesus,

Cause I’m shaking like a leaf

You have been King of my Glory

Won’t you be my prince of peace

Surrender don’t come natural to me

I’d rather fight you for something 

I don’t really want

Than take what you give that I need

And I’ve beat my head against so many walls

Now I’m falling down, I’m falling on my knees…

And the Salvation Army band is playing this hymn

And your grace rings out so deep

It makes my resistance seem so thin

So hold me Jesus,

Cause I’m shaking like a leaf

You have been King of my Glory

Won’t you be my prince of peace

You have been King of my Glory

Won’t you be my prince of peace

Source: LyricFind

Songwriters: Richard Mullins

Hold Me Jesus lyrics © Capitol Christian Music Group