Time.

There was a time--a long time--when all he had to do was say, "I want to come home," and I would have let him. No hesitation, no second thought, no questions asked.

That time has gone.

Two weeks ago, my ex-husband stood in my driveway and told me he was going to the beach with her family. My heart collapsed, my breath caught, my blood rushed into my ears. And then I remembered that this was exactly what I'd been asking for; exactly what I had been praying for: honesty. I've learned that my children spend time with her on a weekly basis, that her family hosted a small birthday party for my son, and that my ex-husband spends quite a bit of time with her on his own. I've learned that he is still classifying the relationship as nothing more than "good friends," and that he thinks I'm making things out to be "worse than they really are."

I don't know how things could get much worse.

What I do know, though, and what I am continuing to realize on a daily basis, is that the final emotional tie to him, the one that has had a death grip on my heart for so long, the one that I did not even know was still in existence, has been released. And I am thriving.

I'm still grieving, too, although now it is more of a grief over the deterioration of our relationship rather than a grief over the loss of him. I miss him, I miss what we once shared, and my heart aches at the thought of all we will miss in the future, but the "him" tucked away in my memory in no way resembles the man who stands in my driveway each week waiting to pick up his children. And it took a silly beach trip for me to make that connection. It took him owning up to his current reality for my eyes to truly open to the fact that there is not one bone in my body that wants to be in a relationship with the man he is today. Not one.

My perspective has been altered.

I was asked last week if, one year from now, I would take him back if he asked. I don't know the answer to that. I truly don't. If there is one lesson, though, that I cherish from the last year, it is this: I don't want to be anywhere other than in the center of God's will. I can't pretend to know what my future holds. I can't pretend that I have ultimate control over where I'll be five years from now. I can't pretend to know what will happen tomorrow. But I do know this: my heavenly Father knows, and has always known, me, and His Word tells me that He "knows the plans He has for me," and that they are plans to "prosper me and not to harm me."

And so I will follow Him, and I will wait with great anticipation as the next chapter of my life unfolds.

I know it's going to be good.

Sad.

My firstborn turned three years old today. He spent most of the day with his father in another state, but that didn't stop me from celebrating my sweet boy's special day when he arrived home this evening. My mother, sister, brother, and soon-to-be brother-in-law joined us for an evening of gifts and cake. We laughed, loved, ate, laughed, played, and laughed some more. We took hundreds of pictures, we sang "Happy Birthday," we set up his new toys, we watched him blow out his candles, we loved on him and hugged on him and made him feel special.

We had a great time.

But now that everyone has gone home, and now that the mess has been cleaned up and my babies are asleep, I'm sad. Not because he's another year older, not because I miss his baby days, not even because he's growing up entirely too fast...

Simply because it's not supposed to be this way.

On this day, the anniversary of his birth, it feels as if I should be sitting close to his father on the sofa, reminiscing about that fateful day. We should be sharing his birth story, re-living those months of anticipation and the unbelievably sweet payoff of pregnancy, laughing at all the ways he's everything we absolutely expected while at the same time nothing at all like we thought. We should be celebrating our son. Together.

There should be someone here with me, someone to talk to, to laugh with, about all the little silly things he said and did tonight. Someone with whom to share the love I feel for him, someone with whom I could crawl into bed and collapse from exhaustion, all the while knowing that my smile isn't the only one in the room. Someone to help wash the dishes, someone willing to sit at the kitchen table and finish a piece of cake with me, someone to simply share the evening, the memories, a conversation. Someone to say to me, "Did you see his face when he opened our gift?" Someone I could tell, "I'm so proud of him for being polite tonight."

I want to share him and the joy he brings into my life with somebody.

I miss parenting with a partner. This "single" stuff is hard.

And sad.

And birthdays aren't the only thing that make me feel this way.

Which is why I am so, so thankful I serve a God who "makes me lie down in green pastures; leads me beside still waters; and restores my soul."

I need some soul restoration every now and then, and I need the kind that doesn't--that can't--come from a husband or boyfriend or even a close friend or family member. I need the kind of restoration that comes only from God, the kind of restoration given by the One who knows me, who loves me, and who delights in me, and my children, as His creation. And while the desire to be held in the arms of an earthly man is strong within my heart, it pales in comparison to my need to be held by my heavenly Father.

And, ultimately, I am well aware of the fact that not only did He see my sweet boy's face upon opening his gift from me, but God also heard the thoughts running through that three-year-old's mind and felt the excitement of his reaction. And, knowing God, He's been waiting to share this moment with me for a long, long time.

He's been waiting for me to put the kids to bed so that He could talk with me, so that He could share with me, so that He could love on me, so that He could restore my soul.

Humor.

I saw this on the back of a pick-up truck at a gas station this morning:

I didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

But I do know that I agree with this statement I read on another blog today:

"God is our heavenly Father who wants to bless us. He truly wants to give us the desires of our hearts. But we have to go about it His way and in His timing."

So God, help me to wait on Your timing. Help me to go about things Your way. Make the desire of my heart the desire of Your heart.

And please don't make me resort to a magnetic bumper sticker on the back of my van.

Unanswered.

When he's in bed at night, and all is quiet around him, does he miss me?
Does he ever regret the decision he's made?
When did he stop loving me? Has he stopped loving me?
What is it that made him stop talking to me? That made him stop trusting me, stop sharing his life with me?
Does he ever find himself suffocated with memories from our previous life?
How often do they talk? What does he share with her? Has he introduced her to his friends?
How does he push aside the anguish of not being with his children and press on? How is it possible for him to have no contact with these sweet babies for a week at a time? How does he handle that grief?
And what is it about me, about our marriage, that would make living apart from his kids worth it?

How will I, when that time comes, get through a week without seeing my babies?
And what happens if, ten years from now, one of them says, "I want to live with my Dad?"

Did it all mean nothing to him? Was it really that easy to throw away?

Does he have any idea how much his actions have hurt my heart?

Will another man, who is not the father of my children, appreciate the stretch marks left on my abdomen?

Is there a man out there who'll want to be a part of this crazy life of mine? A man who will laugh when my dog passes gas that literally makes you have to leave the room? A man who will meet my loud, loving, close-knit family and not run away? A man with the patience to play trains for the millionth time with a child who doesn't share any of his DNA? A man who will recognize that I sweat simply because I breathe and love me anyway? A man who will realize that I don't cook well and I don't know a lot about fashion and I'm not the best interior decorator but I love to read and I love to eat and I love watching movies and I am loud and strong-willed and independent, but I also long to be cared for and loved and want, with all that I am, to share this life--my life--with a husband?

Is there a man out there who will love my kids as if they were his own, even though they won't call him, "Daddy?"

Would I be able to love someone else's kids as if they were my own, even if I didn't birth them?

Is there a man who will love me, who will make a covenant and become one with me, who will "do life" and all that it entails with me, even though my heart and my body belonged to someone else first?

And how does it all happen? How do those scars left on my heart heal? How do I navigate new relationships? How on earth to do I learn how to "date?"

How do I, when the time and the man are right, make my little family his?

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And then I stop, and I breathe, and I'm reminded that I'm not the one who makes all those miracles happen.

Thank You, Father, for redeeming and restoring my life.