Ruined. And Healing.

Calm.

2009-10-04T17:25:00.001-07:00

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.

2009-09-05T18:14:00.000-07:00

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.

2009-09-02T17:47:00.000-07:00

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.

2009-08-22T10:38:00.000-07:00

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.

2009-07-31T20:05:00.000-07:00

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.

2009-07-25T17:07:00.000-07:00

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.

2009-07-13T18:59:00.000-07:00

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.

Prodigal.

2009-07-05T18:02:00.000-07:00

My three-year-old is sick. He's throwing up everywhere, he can't get comfortable in his bed, and he is (understandably) clingy and whiny and glued to my hip.

I love him.

But I'm exhausted.

And just a little bit angry.

And I'm about to launch into what may seem like a laundry list of complaints, but I need, more than anything, to get this bitterness out of my soul.

I feed my kids. I clothe them. I bathe them. I schedule therapy sessions and doctor's appointments. I read to them and discipline them and love on them and keep them entertained. I pray with them. I kiss their boos boos and I deal with their tantrums. I tuck them in at night and I rise with them every single morning. I take them to church. I take them to the park, to the pool, to the playground. I change diapers. I change underwear. I worry about them. I mother them.

I keep my house clean. I do laundry and I vacuum and I dust and I (sometimes) clean the bathrooms. I grocery shop. I pay the bills. I make and keep the budget. I get the dogs to the vet, I remember birthdays, I cut the grass. I pick up prescriptions. I remember to have the oil changed and the tires rotated. I try to shower.

I work outside the home, too.

And so sometimes, even though I wouldn't trade places with my ex-husband for anything, I feel an anger--a jealousy--rising up from somewhere deep within. I am here, at home, with my children, working my butt off on a daily basis, while he's relaxing at the beach on an adult-only vacation. I make decisions regarding faith, discipline, education, and family rules on my own; he plays with our children once a week and every other weekend. He has the opportunity to go to bed when he's tired, wake up when he feels like it, and catch a movie whenever it strikes his fancy. He can head to the gym without having to worry if his baby girl will cry in the nursery. He has someone to laugh with, to cry with, to listen as he bares his soul...I don't even know how to start dating. Somedays it just doesn't seem fair.

What an ugly paragraph.

I get how that older brother feels, though. It's not a pretty place to be.

How easy it can be to feel wronged, slighted, cheated out of what is rightfully mine. How simple it is to let jealousy take over, to chase after the wrong things, to think that this life is, indeed, all about me. How quickly I fall into the lie that I deserve more, that I deserve the party, and it is him alone who deserves the punishment. Not even close to being true.

What is true, though, is that God is telling me, just as he told the older brother, that He is always with me, and that everything He has is mine. And that is, most definitely, more than enough to keep the house clean and pay the bills and discipline the kids and build a godly family. It is better than an adult-only vacation, better than a boyfriend or a husband, better than sleeping in on a Saturday morning. It is the promise of provision, of sustenance, and of mercy. It is more than I could ask for, and so much more than I deserve.

And it's a perspective I'm working hard to adopt every minute of every day. It's not always easy, and I don't always get it right, but that doesn't make it any less true.

Hallelujah!

Time.

2009-06-26T14:18:00.000-07:00

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.

2009-06-14T18:47:00.001-07:00

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.

2009-06-10T15:09:00.000-07:00

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.

2009-06-05T18:22:00.001-07:00

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?

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

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.

Positive.

2009-05-30T18:42:00.000-07:00

I've had a wonderfully freeing week, and I think the majority of that freedom has resulted from my decision to allow God to remove the chip from my shoulder. It seems so easy sometimes to hold onto hurt, to constantly remind ourselves of the pain inflicted on us by another, and to allow that memory to color our present relationship with that person.

In reality, it's not easy to live like that.

And honestly, it's not really easy to choose to release that grudge to God, either. But it sure is freeing.

And a bit confusing.

While I have always tried my best to be cordial whenever interacting with my ex-husband, I've changed my attitude this week and have worked on being positive. Sometimes I even find myself bordering on friendly. Let me be honest here: by no means do I go out of my way to talk to him. And if this situation were a little different--if there were no children involved--I would probably be doing everything I could to stay as far away from him as possible. But, thankfully, there are children involved, and so the bottom line is that, at most, I pretty much have to see him 2-3 times a week. And so (I think) I've decided to make the best of it.

Right now, making the best of it consists of greeting him in our driveway when he returns the kids and, after loving on my babies, asking about their day, listening to the things he chooses to share with me about his current life, talking a little about the silly things the kids do and say, and attempting to refrain from making any negative comments. It takes about ten minutes.

And it's so much easier than being angry on the inside.

Even though emotions still run close to the surface for me, I'm learning how to guard my heart when it comes to my relationship with him, and it's made all the difference in the world. Simple (and sad) things, like not expecting him to be completely honest with me, have helped. That doesn't, of course, mean that I think it's okay to be dishonest, but it does mean that I have started to put this relationship into perspective.

Here's where it gets tricky, though: I don't want him to take my friendliness as an indication that I think divorce was the right decision. I don't want my positive attitude to be misconstrued as acceptance of the situation. And I don't want to get in the position where I find myself interacting with him in a positive manner because I think it will bring him home.

The truth is, sometimes I do want him to come home. Sometimes, though, I can't wait to meet somebody new. A lot of the time, I look into his eyes and see a stranger staring back at me. Talk about surreal. And all of the time, I want to act and speak lovingly, out of the overflow of my heart, while also guarding that baby with everything I've got.

And, even though I keep it to myself, there are times when I just want to make sure he knows he made the wrong decision.

I feel confident in saying that, right now, it's not my place to point out his mistakes.

Relinquishing control to God also means learning to trust Him, even when it doesn't make sense. And it doesn't make sense, at least not to me, to act as friendly and caring around my ex-husband as I have this past week. It feels a little like he's off the hook for his decisions way too easily.

It also doesn't make sense, though, for God to sacrifice His one and only Son for me; especially when I hurt and reject and disappoint Him on a daily basis. Talk about getting off easy.

Except that the crucifixion wasn't easy. It was death.

And perhaps this, my choice to be positive, is just a little taste of what it might be like to die to my own wants and desires. Perhaps this is what it might feel like to die to myself, so that Christ might live in me.

Even though it hurts a little, it really is freeing.

David.

2009-05-26T18:59:00.000-07:00

Here's what I've been mulling over lately:

"May the LORD judge between you and me. And may the LORD avenge the wrongs you have done to me, but my hand will not touch you."

It's from the book of 1 Samuel, and the words belong to David, the future king of Israel. He is speaking to Saul, the current king, who also happens to be the man behind the plan for having David killed; Saul even attempted to kill David himself a little earlier in the story. David, of course, is well aware that Saul tried to kill him once, and he's also been told that Saul is still seeking his death. He's out hiding from Saul. And isn't it interesting that when David actually has the chance to turn the tables and kill Saul first, he doesn't take it.

He could have killed Saul any number of ways, too. The Bible actually says that David did, in fact, sneak up on Saul and cut a corner of his robe before David himself became "conscience-stricken." David had the perfect opportunity to kill the man who was after his own life. He had the perfect opportunity to have his men kill Saul as well, and instead of issuing the command to take Saul's life, he forbade his men to attack the current king.

Now I'm not crazy at the thought of standing in judgement before God one day. Apart from the blood of Jesus, I wouldn't stand a chance. And, even though I'm certain I'll spend eternity with my Father, I also know I'll be called to stand before His throne one day and account for each and every decision in my life. Talk about humbling.

I'm not interested in asking God to judge between me and my ex-husband. I've experienced enough in my life to know that even when I think what I long for is justice, it's actually mercy I so desperately need. (I also have a really good friend who planted that thought in my head and in my heart quite a few months ago.) I am interested, though, in learning how to take my own hands out of the vengeance equation.

Honestly, I'm not sure if I can stand with David and say that my hands will have no part in payback. I'm not sure I'm ready to stand with David and ask my men to back down. I'm not even sure if, given the opportunity, I wouldn't cut a little more than the corner of a robe. I'd like to be able to say that I would respond as David did, but I think I'd be lying to myself. And I'm tired of lies, remember?

What I do know is this: my prayers for the next few days, weeks, maybe months are going to be focused on letting go. Letting go and letting God. That sounds like such a cliche', like something people say all the time and don't really mean, or maybe don't even really understand, but I want it to be true in my life. I want it to be true in this situation.

I want to be able to stand before my "men," my friends and family, and order them off the attack. I want to be strong enough and confident enough to end any and all negative talk surrounding the people and circumstances that have impacted my life. I want to be strong enough and confident enough to not start any negative talk, too.

I didn't realize until I began writing how strongly I cling to the thoughts and words of others. Sometimes I derive my strength and worth and confidence from the fact that other people think the two of them made some crappy decisions, too. And I love it. I find solidarity and support in those opinions.

I think I'd rather find solidarity and support in Jesus.

And honestly, even though it's easy to convince myself that I'm the one who needs to make him understand the error of his ways, that I'm the one who needs to hold him accountable and open his eyes to all the pain he's caused both himself and his family, that I'm the one who needs to help him see that this decision is so far from God's plan for his life, the bottom line is that I've tried it all, and none of it worked. So now it's time for me to get out of the way and let God do his thing.

And who knows what the future holds? Reconciliation? Restoration? Maybe.

Maybe not.

I'm learning to be okay with that. I'm learning to be more than okay with that.

I'm excited to see what God's going to do with my life, with my story.

Relinquishing control is going to be my opening chapter.

Loved.

2009-05-24T18:52:00.000-07:00

I was loved tonight, and my soul has been changed as a result.

My children and I had the opportunity to attend a cookout hosted by some dear friends and incredible mentors. The cookout itself was intended for the members of one of the small groups that exist within our church and their families, but because of the role I play within this ministry of ours, I, also, was invited to attend and bring my family. While I knew everyone in attendance, and most on what I would consider a "friendship" level, I was not necessarily an "insider" in this situation. While I felt extremely welcome and wanted, being an outsider afforded me an exciting perspective on the entire evening.

As a result, I was able to sit back and observe God's intricate, purposeful work. I was able to see all the ways in which His hand has moved to bring this particular group of ladies together in order to not only study His Word, but to also simply "do life."

It was beautiful.

And I was reminded, in my yearning for someone to "do life" with myself, that I am truly already blessed with many of the things for which I find myself asking.

I was loved tonight, in a genuine and authentic way, and I know it's not the first time and certainly not the last time it will be true for me. And it honestly felt like home.

I was loved simply because of the invitation to be a part. I was loved in the conversation and food and laughter and stories. I was loved because I was able to witness a man of God take my child under his wing and share his home, his life, his faith, and his love with my sweet boy. I was loved because I know that my family and I have been prayed for within the walls of that home more times than I'll ever realize. I could feel it. I was loved because at the end of the night, I saw my little guy give big hugs to our host and hostess, and I know, because I am his mother, what a truly special gift that is from him. I was loved because I had the privelege of hearing my son make up songs all the way home about the evening and the people he'd just experienced, and I know that means they left an impact on his little heart. I was loved because the people we experienced left an impact on my heart.

And God, I couldn't be more thankful. Forgive me for failing to recognize the ways in which Your hand is at work in my life, and thank You for all the many people, those I was with tonight as well as those whose thoughts, prayers, calls, and comments permeate my existence, you have given me with which to "do life."

I am truly grateful.

Truth.

2009-05-20T07:23:00.001-07:00

I long for Truth. I strive to seek Truth in all I do. I work hard to be truthful with myself and others. I hold fast to the belief that it is Truth, indeed, that will set me free.

And I am so tired of being lied to.

I understand the power of perception. I understand that my take on this divorce and all that has led up to it is much, much different than that of my ex-husband's. I also understand that the reality of this situation most likely exists somewhere in the middle, somewhere between his point of view and mine.

But I pray, quite frequently, for God to reveal Truth to both of us, and for Truth to be revealed to her, as well, because I believe that it is only when we are willing to face the Truth, and, in turn, allow ourselves to be showered in grace that personal healing will truly happen.

But again, I'm tired of the lies.

They frustrate me, they hurt me, they anger me...and they still catch me off guard.

I honestly don't think I'm out of line in asking for honesty. I'm not questioning him about his personal life; I never ask about what goes on when he's on his own. I am merely, and appropriately so, concerned about the whereabouts of my children.

It's actually deeper than that, though. While I do want to know where my children are when they're with him, what I really want is to be able to know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he's going to be open and honest with me in all things related to our babies. And I'm just not there yet.

I know my kids are safe when they're with him. I know they have a good time when they're with him. I want them to have a relationship with him. But if you've never been a position in which you are, ultimately, forced to release your kids for extended periods of time to someone who has hurt your heart in unimaginable ways, then I'm not sure how to realistically describe the emotions I experience each time I release them into his hands.

And I definitely don't know how to describe the emotions I experience when my almost three-year-old tells me his day ran a little differently than the way his father described it. And I definitely don't know how to describe the emotions I experience when I confront his father, not for the first time, as to why he isn't truthful with me when it comes to experiences the kids have while in his care, only to have him hang up and refuse to finish the conversation. And I most definitely don't know how to describe the emotions I experience when I allow it to finally sink in that my children are, in fact, spending time with my ex-husband and this other woman on what seems to be a consistent basis.

(I don't, of course, truly know how much or little (if any) time my children are spending with her, but the possibility seems to very strongly exist. I do, however, refuse to put my child in the middle; I'm sure there will come a day when he shares with me who plays with him, and when and if he does, I pray I will have the strength to respond in a way that does not diminish him. Until then, I will not incessantly question him about his "playmates.")

There just simply are no words. Or perhaps there are a multitude of words, all jumbled together into one big experience: jealousy, peace, hurt, strength, anger, confidence, frustration, love, fear, PRAYER. That's more like it.

I'll continue to pray for Truth. And truth. I don't understand my ex's motivation for lying anymore. We're divorced, he's free (or is he?), and there's no way we'll be able to "co-parent" effectively without a little honesty.

Truth, please, Father. Truth and grace. I know I won't make it without those.

Responsibility, Accountability, and Forgiveness.

2009-05-15T18:27:00.000-07:00

Every time I relay the story of the past ten months of my life, no matter how few or how many details I give, I always make it a point to mention the fact that I know there were (and are) so many things I need to work on when it comes to relationships. There are, more specifically, so many things I need to work on when it comes to marriage relationships, and there are so many mistakes, bad decisions, careless words, sins that I need to own up to in my interactions with my husband.

Not an easy thing to do. Especially when the response I most often get after telling my story--from very well-meaning people, mind you--is, "Don't beat yourself up. We all have things we need to work on when it comes to relationships." And I know that's true. After all, I believe that we all fall short of the glory of God, and that there is not one of us, apart from Jesus, without sin.

And no matter how squarely I put the decision to divorce on the shoulders of my ex-husband, I do not believe that I am a "victim" in this particular situation. Let me be clear: I did not make the decision to divorce. I did not file, I did not want him to file. I made it absolutely apparent that I was willing to do whatever it took to uphold my commitment to him, and I did everything I knew how to do to save my marriage. And oh, how easy it would be if that's where everything ended.

But it's only where things get complicated.

Because I know, no matter how things look to the outsider, what things I did and didn't do in my marriage, and I am well aware of the part I played in his final decision. I also know, though, that by admitting my mistakes to him, to myself, and to my God, and that by asking forgiveness and earnestly seeking repentance, I have begun to make steps in the healing process.

I believe this, and it has messed me up in such a good way: "If we claim to be without sin, we deceive ourselves and the truth is not in us. If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness. If we claim we have not sinned, we make him out to be a liar and his word has no place in our lives ."

Like I said before, it is so difficult to admit that the situation I'm dealing with is, in part, a consequence of my own sin. Let me be clear: I do not believe that God is punishing me for poor choices. I do not believe that divorce or my husband having an emotional affair with another woman was ever in God's plan for my life. I do not and will not ever admit to choosing/wanting/initiating this divorce, because I know that's not a choice I made. I do believe, though, that I'm not perfect. I do believe, without a doubt, that during my almost eight-year marriage I said and did many things that were not loving toward my husband and that also did not bring glory to God, and I need to take responsibility for those actions and the consequences that resulted because of the choices I made.

I also believe, though--and praise God!--that if we confess our sins, God is faithful and will not only forgive us, but will also purify us from all unrighteousness.

And that's exactly what I want for my life.

So while it seems so much easier to play the victim, and while it seems so much easier to just let everyone think it's all his fault, I simply can't do that. I long to live in truth. I long to be forgiven and cleansed. I long to be made whole. And His Word tells me that the only way to do that is to confess.

And so I have, and it's been freeing. Amazingly, and by the grace of God, I am learning how to take responsiblity for the choices and decisions I made while at the same time separating myself from the choices and decisions he made. And that, friends, is called healthy.

I am so thankful for the Word of God in my life. I am thankful for the way it speaks to me, comforts me, and challenges me. I am thankful for the way it cuts me to the core, stretches me, and replays itself over and over again in my heart and mind.

I am thankful for the way it reveals my sin, and I am thankful for the forgiveness and healing it promises.

I am thankful for all that I have learned, and for the ways in which I have grown during this season of my life. I am praying, even now, that I'll have another chance to do this marriage thing right. I am praying for the opportunity to be a wife that brings glory to God through the way she loves her husband.

And I'm praying that God would continue to refine me, no matter how painful the process seems.

Co-Parenting.

2009-05-12T17:35:00.000-07:00

Here's what he said to me:

"There's a lady in my group who is so good at 'co-parenting' with her ex-husband that her children don't even know they're from a broken home."

In all fairness, I started the conversation by suggesting some thoughts I had that might help us better parent our children consistently. And I do, with all that I am, want to figure out how to have a relationship with him that will always be beneficial for our two sweet babies.

This, though, is how I responded to his comment:

"I never, ever want the kids to think that divorce is okay."

I hesitated to say it, but it's true. I don't care how well we get this whole "co-parenting" thing down (and I pray that we do get it down), I don't ever want my children to think that divorce is an acceptable answer to their marital issues. I don't ever want them thinking that divorce was an acceptable answer to my marital issues. I want my kids to know and believe and hold fast to all that is written in the Bible, and I want nothing more than to learn how to be appropriately transparent with them; to be honest about my flaws and shortcomings and sins in a way that glorifes God and helps them grow in their own relationships with Him.

I want them, though, to know that this "broken family" is not what covenant looks like, no matter how well they think their father and I can "co-parent."

So how do I teach them those things without sabotaging the relationship they share with their earthly father? I mean, I'm aware of the fact that these conversations are years and years away for me, but the implications of my future words weigh heavy on my heart now.

God, give me wisdom. I so desperately need it.

And bless my children with wisdom and a knowledge of You that surpasses their age. May they always have a desire to seek Truth, and may they thirst after Your Word with their entire being.

Amen.

Contentment.

2009-05-11T17:56:00.000-07:00

And then nights like tonight happen.

Nights where my children and I have absolutely nothing on our calendar. Nights where I leave work and head to the sitter's, excited to see my babies but also dreading just a little the evening ahead; not because I don't want to be with my kiddos, but simply because I know it will be just the three of us, all night long, and sometimes, frankly, I don't have the energy for that.

But then I walk through the door to pick them up and I see their smiles and feel their excitement, and we make it home and my little guy is so excited to help with the small things, things I consider chores, like bringing the in the trash can and measuring the sugar for the sweet tea, and my sweet baby girl smiles so big her dimples show, and we start to fall into a routine, and things are good.

And then I try to play baseball with my son outside in our backyard while sweet pea watches from a blanket in the grass, and we eat dinner at the kitchen table while talking about what shape the "cheesy noodles" are, and we have popsicles for dessert before heading upstairs to splash around in the bathtub and play with the trains and read and read and read before finally saying good night, and I smile as I close the door to my children's rooms, after kisses have been given and prayers have been said, and I realize, I am content.

For a split second, I allow myself to wonder if he even realizes what he's missing.

And then I choose to let the thought fade away, because I refuse to be robbed of this contentment I have found. I remember Paul's words, and I meditate on the fact that the secret of being content is simply realizing that "I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength," and so I press on.

I know what it is to have a husband, and I know what it is to be without, and I am learning the secret of being content.

I'm Lonely.

2009-05-08T18:52:00.000-07:00

This is probably the most difficult thing for me to admit, both to those around me and to myself.

But it's true. I am lonely sometimes, mostly when I'm not actually alone.

And the loneliness has been a strange thing for me to navigate, mainly because it has brought to light so many of the contradictions that make me, well, me.

For example: I am fiercely independent. I process information quickly, I don't often hesitate when it comes to making decisions, I am comfortable with large amounts of responsibility, and I enjoy leadership roles. I am also an introvert; I possess a need deep within me to be alone at some point each and every day. I very literally need that time to remain sane.

I also, though, long for companionship. My heart aches for intimacy. I believe I have a God-given desire to know and be fully known, and I am thankful for God's promise that one day I will experience relationship at its finest. I will know, and I will be fully known, and I'll be loved just the same. And how beautiful it is to know that even now, even as I sit here on my sofa and pour my heart onto a computer screen, I can rest confidently in the fact that I am already known, and already loved, and that it has been that way for a long, long time.

Little do we realize, though, the power that we, as humans, have to shape perceptions of relationship.

I believe, with all that is in me, every word written in the paragraph above. I cling to the promises of God found in the Bible. I hold fast to the ways in which I've seen the power of Jesus alive in my life.

And yet, the desire for earthly relationship, and, more specifically, the desire for the husband-wife relationship, still permeates most of my thoughts. Is it because I have a vision in my head of what I think a marriage is supposed to look like? Is it because I've tasted the sweetness of a marriage relationship and therefore now know what I'm missing? Is it because, by the grace of God, I've learned more about marriage in the last nine months than I did in the entire seven and a half years I was actually a wife?

I do not have the words to describe how much I genuinely love and appreciate my friends and family. My life has very literally been upheld by people who love me, care about me, and would do absolutely anything to support me. I know they have given up time with their friends and families to call me, to hang out with me, to help me bathe the kids, to feed me, to listen to me gasp and cry and weep and wail, to hear my complaints, to fast and pray with me, to play with my children, to care for my children...you name it, and it has been a blessing given to me by God through friends and family.

But, at the end of the day, and as it should be, I'm the one sitting at my kitchen table eating dinner most nights with an almost-three-year-old and a one-year-old. I'm the one carting my kids home from the church softball game without a husband next to me in the passenger seat. I'm the one who wants nothing more than to collapse into bed at night and find myself wrapped up in my husband's arms. I'm the one with stories from my day that seem to be spilling out of my mouth, and yet they're not being heard. I'm the one who tucks my babies into bed each night, all the while remembering, faintly, that this used to be a task I shared with someone else.

I used to share my life with someone else. The good, the bad, and the ugly. There was someone here with me, and I thought we were in it together; I thought we were in it for the long haul.

I feel like I've been cast aside, thrown away, told that I'm not worth the fight.

I feel like things got tough and he quit.

And, every once in a while, I'm lonely.

Direction.

2009-05-05T12:40:00.001-07:00

"God, help me to be open to whatever direction You want to move in my life."

It's the first conscious thought that slips through my mind every morning, without fail. It's a prayer, a pleading, for guidance from my Father. Guidance in my words and actions, definitely, but also guidance in my thoughts and in my heart. Because, quite simply, I don't know what to think, and I don't know what to feel. I don't know how to exist in this situation.

And oh, how I long to do so much more than exist.

But here's where I struggle:
I have no idea what God has store in for the rest of my life. Absolutely no idea.

And while I do trust Him, because I know that His plans for my life are so much greater than anything I could ever ask or imagine, day-to-day living is not always so cut and dry.

For example, I am very aware that every second of every day I am making a conscious decision to live as if my ex-husband will never, ever be a part of my life again. It's a decision I wrestled with for weeks, maybe even months, and it's one I made only after many conversations with some very godly people, and after even more long nights of prayer. And while, to the outsider, it seems like the obvious choice to make (he did, after all, divorce me), I don't know how to make myself stop loving him.

But I also know that in order to maintain my sanity, and maybe, more importantly, parent my children to the best of my ability, I cannot allow the door to that relationship to remain open in my heart and/or mind. Words cannot even begin to describe the damage done to my heart when I allow myself to hope for a certain reaction from him, only to realize I've been lied to yet again. It simply makes my heart hurt.

There is more, though. I still believe that my family could be restored beyond my wildest imagination. I believe I serve a God who is in the business of working miracles, and I believe that my relationship with my ex-husband is not beyond repair.

I also, however, believe, that there could be a beautiful vision in my Father's eyes of my life with someone new, or maybe even a life without a husband. While I will never believe that God's plan for my life included divorce, I do know that God is still good, and that He is still working on my behalf, even if things don't seem to be going my way right now.

And that's the tension of faith, isn't it? Living in this world, but not being of this world. Trying to reconcile the last few paragraphs is next to impossible, and yet, somehow, it's what I'm learning to do. It's how I'm learning to be. It's my reality.

And so God, help me to be open to whatever direction You want to move in my life. Open my eyes so that I might be able to see the ways in which You are moving all around me, working on my behalf. Give me clear guidance, and help the desires of my heart become the desires of Your heart. Amen.

I Begged.

2009-05-03T13:38:00.000-07:00

Begging is not becoming, or so I'm told.

Unfortunately, I've spent the last nine months of my life begging. Begging my husband to discontinue a relationship with another woman. Begging my husband to return home so we could work on things. Begging my husband to talk to me, to let me in, to tell me the truth. Begging my husband to choose me, to choose our kids, to choose our life together.

Begging God to restore and redeem my marriage.

And none of it came to fruition.

And so here I sit today: a newly divorced woman, a now single mom to two young children, trying to make ends meet on what I refer to as my "child support budget."

Some days I sit peacefully, some days I have confusion and hurt and anger raging inside of me. Some days it's easy for me to believe God's promise that His plans are not to harm me, some days I struggle. Some days I make it through my waking hours without missing the father of my children at all, and some days the memories of our life together seem to spill into everything I do. Some days I rest calmly in the fact that not only will God never leave or forsake me, but He also won't leave or forsake my children, and some days I worry constantly about the negative effects of my little babies being shuffled from one home to the next. Some days I feel strong and confident, and some days I obsess over what it is about "her" that intrigued my husband enough to leave his family.

Every day, though, I am fully aware of my new reality.

And every day I am faced with a multitude of decisions and reactions in response to this new reality and all that it entails.

This is my journey.

It won't be easy, but I believe it will be worth it.