Calm.

It's been a calm kind of month around here. Calm, steady, and much needed.

For the first time in a long time, I feel like myself again, and it's been an absolutely beautiful experience to reconnect with the girl I used to know. Of course, this new self is different: seasoned, scarred, purified, redeemed...but I honestly wouldn't have her any other way.

I wish I could say that my situation has gotten easier. It hasn't. I still miss my kids when they're away, I still find myself frustrated with some of the decisions my ex-husband makes, I still get lonely every once in a while.

What has changed, however, is my perspective on the situation. God, purely out of His divine mercy, has been so good to me. He has proven Himself to be Truth time and time and time again, and He continues to patiently teach me about His heart, His character, and His will for my life.

My prayers are changing. I want to be in a relationship. I want to be married. I want to meet someone tomorrow. But even more than that, I want to live my life in the very center of God's will. And so I'm learning to trust, with all that I am and all that I have. I'm learning to let go. I'm learning to live like I believe that whatever God has in store for my life is so much better than anything I could dream up on my own, and in doing so I find myself spending less time attempting to control the reins and more time on my face in prayer.

As a result, I find myself in a calm, steady, peaceful place. The emotions, the anxiety, the restlessness...they fade away in the presence of Jesus Christ. I don't know why I'm surprised; God's Word clearly tells me to expect nothing less. I find myself in the balance between, as a friend stated today, simply believing the Word of God and knowing it to be absolutely true.

It's a good, good place to be.

Sucker Punch.

It's like being punched in the gut, and it literally makes me sick to my stomach.

My son has reached the point where he is able to articulate all that the days spent with his father entail, and pretty much every activity seems to entail "her." Of course, I've known my kids share most of their "daddy time" with her all along, but there's something about hearing my three-year-old say it that creates a whirlwind of emotions within my heart and soul.

And if I'm honest, the number one emotion is jealousy, with fear following as a close second. It seems ridiculous to type that out, and almost stupid to say it, but it's true. She's spending quality time with my kids, and it makes me sick. She has an opportunity to give her uninterrupted, undivided attention to my children...and the fact that her partnership with my ex-husband creates two adults for every activity my children encounter only ensures more adult interaction for my two sweet babies. Please don't misunderstand; I'm thankful that my children are getting lots of love and attention. I'm even thankful they're getting lots of love and attention from lots of different people. I only wish I could give them more of it myself.

My son talked today about going to the playground. He shared how while he and his Daddy played on the slides, my daughter spent time in the swing with "her." I know that's a good thing, but it's tough to imagine, and it just makes me sad that most of the time, I'm unable to give my kids attention like that simply because I don't have a partner to share the load.

Images swirl across my brain with every detail my child voluntarily shares: the four of them walking through Wal-Mart on a shopping trip, unloading a car at the playground, walking into a restaurant for dinner. Looking like a family. THOSE ARE MY CHILDREN! I just want to scream it as loud as I can. THEY DO NOT BELONG TO HER! SHE IS NOT THEIR MOTHER!

Seriously, what is with me?

I'm afraid they'll like her better than me. I'm afraid they'll tell her things they won't tell me. I'm afraid they'll wish they spent more time with her and their father and less with me. I'm afraid they'll have more fun and do more exciting things with the two of them, and I'm afraid I'll end up being the "uncool" Mom.

And you know what? I'm smart enough to know that all those things will probably happen at some point. They would happen whether I was still married to their father or not. But I'm also smart enough to know that my kids will always see me as their mother, and that there won't be anyone in the world able to replace that role in their lives.

I also get the fact that "mother" is as much of an honor and responsibility as it is anything else. I want to be their mother, and all that the word encompasses, before I am ever their friend or playmate. I'll always prefer my shoes to hers.

But it's still hard.

Sometimes I wonder if it would make a difference if the new woman in their lives was someone new, someone other than the person he left me for. Maybe. Maybe not. It doesn't really matter.

What does matter is this: I'm thankful that she's nice to my kids. I'm thankful that he has help when he takes them out and about. I'm thankful that my children are comfortable with her and that they have a good time together. It could be so much worse.

And I also hope that one day (and, in the spirit of honesty, I hope it's one day sooner rather than later) there will be a man in my life who falls in love with my kids, and whom my kids fall in love with, as easy as she has.

It still feels like a sucker punch, though.

Tough.

What follows is the Truth that I am digesting tonight. I believe it, and I'd like to say that I'm sold-out enough for Jesus that I don't struggle with the concept, but that would be a lie. I'm in the process of being refined in many, many ways...but especially with this particular issue:

My kids. My babies. My heart and soul walking around outside my body. I love them more than I could have ever imagined, and they will always, always, always (and very literally) be a part of me. Nothing can change that.

And nothing can change the fact that the most difficult part of the last year, and the one aspect of this divorce that can still get me agitated, defensive, and physiologically angry, is what this decision has done to my sweet children. Big-picture issues, thoughts, ideas, and conversations are constantly circulating in my brain: are they being given a godly example to follow? will they understand what a covenant relationship is and what that looks like? will they know and accept the Truth? will they learn to define their worth in Christ and what He has done for them, or will there come a point when they wonder if the reason their Daddy left might have something to do with them? will they understand the concept of forgiveness and see it modeled in their lives? will they believe in the God their parents profess to believe in, even though we haven't always made Biblical decisions? what if, when, how, will they...

I love them. God loves them more.

Then come the smaller, more selfish details: I just miss them. I want to be with them. I sit and I look at the calendar and I realize that I won't see them for Halloween, or Thanksgiving Day, or Christmas Eve. They won't be with me for the local fall festival, or for Labor Day (a much needed break after the back-to-school transition), or on their birthdays. There will come a point when they'll be gone every other weekend, all weekend long. When they'll spend days at a time away from me, when they'll go on trips and vacations and to family reunions that I'll never participate in and maybe not ever know anything about. They'll have rules and traditions and memories that don't include me, and, in all honesty, will most likely include her. Already their schedules and priorities and discipline are different when they're with him; already they have a tough time transitioning home after a visit. Already it feels as if my heart is being ripped from my chest every time they leave.

Already I wonder how I'll fill my days when they're gone for extended amounts of time; how I'll fill the ache in my heart when a celebration should include them and doesn't.

And already I believe that our God is big enough and powerful enough and loves me and my children enough to take care of all that stuff. I get that. I have to be reminded of it occasionally, but I get it.

Or do I?

Because tonight, Abraham is all over my heart. Would I do it? Could I do it? Do I trust God enough, do I believe Him enough, that if He asked, I would not only hand my children over to Him, but offer them as a sacrifice?

Um, no. I think that's fairly obvious.

I can't even hand them over for a couple of hours without worrying about what will happen if they don't eat, or don't take a nap, or come home twenty minutes late. I've got a lot to learn.

The Bible says this about Abraham:

By faith Abraham, when God tested him, offered Isaac as a sacrifice. He who had received the promises was about to sacrifice his one and only son, even though God had said to him, "It is through Isaac that your offspring will be reckoned." Abraham reasoned that God could raise the dead, and figuratively speaking, he did receive Isaac back from death.

Abraham believed in a God who could conquer the grave. A God who could take a seemingly impossible situation and redeem it for His glory; a God who could take a seemingly impossible situation and still stay true to His Word. Do I believe in that God? A God who can conquer divorce and all that decision entails for my kids? A God who can redeem an impossible situation for His glory? A God who can stay true to His Word even when we as humans cannot?

Perhpas this is a better question: am I living, in every facet of my life, like I believe in that God?

This is the painful part...

It's Time.

It's time for me to let go.

For the last few weeks, I have found myself wrestling with the concept of forgiveness. I've debated, justified, researched, prayed for, and fought against the idea of forgiving him. I've done the same with the idea of forgiving her.

I've been deep in my Bible, deep in my head, deep in my memories of broadcasts of Oprah, deep in thought over messages heard long ago, deep in reminders of my own scarred past (and present) and beautiful yet undeserved brush with forgiveness, deep in the ifs and thens and buts and other minute, complicated details that make withholding forgiveness seem like not only the right thing to do, but also the thing that will, indeed, help them see the error of their ways.

What a load of crap.

Forgiveness has nothing to do with them and everything to do with me.

And it's time.

Time to forgive, time to move on, time to let go.

Hold me accountable.

Stillness.

I don't do well sitting still. I'm always looking for what needs to be done; always attempting to stay ahead of the game, ahead of the day, ahead of my schedule. I find comfort in movement, in engagement, in planning. I find connection in relationships, in novels, online.

Stillness scares me. Or at least it used to.

Stillness.

Time to reflect. Time to confront emotions, both ugly and pure. Time to confront reality, the good and the bad. Time to confront intentions behind actions, hidden meanings behind words, desires behind facades.

Time to wrestle. Time to fight. Time to defend myself against the lies that beat on the periphery of my heart all day long; the ones I keep at bay by staying busy. Time to open myself to truth, no matter how painful or overwhelming it is. Time to allow the gaping hole in my heart to make its face known, time to be honest with my God.

Stillness.

Time to know. Time to love. Time to learn. Time to appreciate. Time to pray. Time to grow. Time to reflect. Time to heal. Time to confront. Time to change. Time to be alone.

Time to settle.

Time to stop looking for whatever it is that's coming next; to stop living as if life will begin when...fill in the blank. Time to be comfortable in my own skin, to be comfortable in my own company, to be comfortable in my own silence.

Time to simply be still.

Stillness.

I belive it's an important skill, I believe it's a necessary skill, and I believe it's a learned skill.

It makes me smile to think I'm only getting better at it.

Struggling.

I'm angry, and I'm finding myself in full-on "mama defense" mode.

My children and I have been on a wonderful vacation with my family for the past week. Their father was kind enough to give up his Wednesday evening visitation for our trip, and I worked hard to make sure we were home in time for his Saturday "parenting time" today.

He brought them home early. So he could see her.

He, of course, didn't tell me that (oh, the wonders of Facebook), but I'm not sure it even matters how he was planning on spending his evening. He gave up time with his kids, and it's not the first time a scenario like this has played out.

Maybe I'm blowing things out of proportion, maybe it's not really that big of a deal.

Or maybe I just can't help but think of things from my perspective: if I knew I only had limited time with my kids, I'd indulge every single second of it.

It comes as no surprise to me, and honestly doesn't phase me (much), that he would do something like this. This has, after all, been my life for the past year. What does surprise me, though, and what does get me deep in my core, is the fact that my precious children are now playing second fiddle to his relationship with her, to his "new" life.

My kids deserve so much better.

He has no idea that I know where he is tonight, and he'll never tell me. I can live with that. It is, after all, not really any of my business. I'll take the steps I need to take tonight to limit the information I receive via Facebook, and while the fighter in me longs to confront him on the issue, I'll probably just let it go.

I've got enough stuff of my own to work on.

This forgiveness gig isn't easy.

My Place.

I'm a planner. Calendars, dates, lists, organizing...it's in my blood. I can multi-task with the best of the best, and not too much excites me like a brand new agenda book. I live in structure and thrive on routine. I could plan an entire year of events in one evening; I like to expect the expected.

Except sometimes, the expected doesn't happen.

And so I switch to Plan B.

For example:

"God, I really want to be married. More than anything, I want to provide my children with a daily example of what godly marriage looks like. I want to learn to love a man in a way that brings glory to Your name and produces a partnership that will rock this world with the love of Jesus. And it sucks that it's not happening with the father of my kids.

That's okay, though, God, because I believe You can redeem all things. I believe You can restore my life. I believe that You will return the wasted years. I believe that You are still in control."

So far, so good. But then I turn around and immediately try to take that control from His hands by telling him how and when and why and a million other details of how I think things ought to be done. I start planning.

It's like my survival mode.

And then I read this:

Then the LORD answered Job out of the storm. He said:
"Who is this that darkens my counsel with words without knowledge?
Brace yourself like a man; I will question you, and you shall answer me.
"Where were you when I laid the earth's foundation? Tell me, if you understand.
Who marked off its dimensions? Surely you know! Who stretched a measuring line across it?
On what were its footings set, or who laid its cornerstone-
while the morning stars sang together and all the angels shouted for joy?
"Who shut up the sea behind doors when it burst forth from the womb,
when I made the clouds its garment and wrapped it in thick darkness,
when I fixed limits for it and set its doors and bars in place,
when I said, 'This far you may come and no farther; here is where your proud waves halt'?
"Have you ever given orders to the morning, or shown the dawn its place,
that it might take the earth by the edges and shake the wicked out of it?
The earth takes shape like clay under a seal; its features stand out like those of a garment.
The wicked are denied their light, and their upraised arm is broken.
"Have you journeyed to the springs of the sea or walked in the recesses of the deep?
Have the gates of death been shown to you? Have you seen the gates of the shadow of death?
Have you comprehended the vast expanses of the earth? Tell me, if you know all this.
"What is the way to the abode of light? And where does darkness reside?
Can you take them to their places? Do you know the paths to their dwellings?
Surely you know, for you were already born! You have lived so many years!
"Have you entered the storehouses of the snow or seen the storehouses of the hail,
which I reserve for times of trouble, for days of war and battle?
What is the way to the place where the lightning is dispersed, or the place where the east winds are scattered over the earth?
Who cuts a channel for the torrents of rain, and a path for the thunderstorm,
to water a land where no man lives, a desert with no one in it,
to satisfy a desolate wasteland and make it sprout with grass?
Does the rain have a father? Who fathers the drops of dew?
From whose womb comes the ice? Who gives birth to the frost from the heavens
when the waters become hard as stone, when the surface of the deep is frozen?
"Can you bind the beautiful Pleiades? Can you loose the cords of Orion?
Can you bring forth the constellations in their seasons or lead out the Bear with its cubs?
Do you know the laws of the heavens? Can you set up God's dominion over the earth?
"Can you raise your voice to the clouds and cover yourself with a flood of water?
Do you send the lightning bolts on their way? Do they report to you, 'Here we are'?
Who endowed the heart with wisdom or gave understanding to the mind?
Who has the wisdom to count the clouds? Who can tip over the water jars of the heavens
when the dust becomes hard and the clods of earth stick together?
"Do you hunt the prey for the lioness and satisfy the hunger of the lions
when they crouch in their dens or lie in wait in a thicket?
Who provides food for the raven when its young cry out to God and wander about for lack of food?

And I'm reminded that I'm not the Master Planner. Almighty God, the Maker of heaven and earth, is still operating in Plan A. He's better at it than I am.

I'm put in my place.

I surrender it all, Father. Every dream, every desire, every detail. I believe that whatever it is You have in mind for my life, no matter how different it looks from my original plan (or my back-up plan, for that matter) is so much better than anything I could ever produce on my own.

I love You, Lord. Thank You for loving me.