Sunday, January 26, 2014

I Burned Some Pages Today

I have been sick for almost two months and I am finally feeling a bit better so I decided that today was the day I just HAD to clean my room. After all, I was sharing my bed with crushed potato chips and pretzel salt. (Chips were mine, salt was the grandkids'.) I determined to do a very thorough job. I did and I'm thrilled with the results. But sometime during the middle of this process, I came across some papers that I had tucked away several years ago. I read through them one last time and then... I burned them, slowly, one at a time.

You may be wondering why this is significant enough to write about. After all, I enjoy burning stuff as much as the next guy. But these pages were special, in a way, and I'm not sure yet how I feel about their loss. There weren't many - maybe half a dozen - but they spoke of things deep and buried in my heart. There was a letter that I had written Paul shortly before he left me, e-mails between he and I after he left, and several e-mails between he and the girls, also after he left. The emotions expressed in these writings were so raw and gut-wrenching. I knew I had saved these pages and occasionally I had taken them out and read them again, just like I had done today.

I had thought that perhaps the time had come to let go of them. Previously, they had served to remind me of how bad things had been and helped me see how far I had come. They also served to remind me of how deceived and "off" Paul had become during that time in his life. Sometimes, when I would remember our life together, I felt like I was looking at it, at Paul, through rose-colored glasses. I tended to downplay the ugliness that had transpired and think of the good memories. I don't think that is wrong, necessarily. Paul certainly wasn't/isn't all bad and we had a lot of good years together. At least I thought so. But I didn't always see him with a proper perspective and these pages I had written back then had brought some reality to my clouded outlook. I suppose it was sort of a defensive mechanism. It kept me, at times, from throwing caution to the wind and begging him to come back to me.

The fact of the matter is, Paul will always be a part of me. That is how God designed marriage and just because Paul is no longer physically in my presence does not mean that he has been cut out of my heart. This is one of those things that I have to live with much like Donny and Melissa live with infertility or Chris Pickens lives with A.L.S. None of us are spared the pain that this corrupt world brings. However...when Paul first left, I knew I would survive. I knew immediately that it wouldn't kill me. Thankfully, I had enough faith to reassure me of that. But I never planned or imagined that I might be living victoriously through this hardship.

I think that in my mind initially, living victoriously meant God bringing him back to me, restoring our marriage, being one of the few that survived infidelity. But who am I to define what "victorious living" really is? Maybe it means being where I am today - a woman just beginning to grasp the magnitude of God's grace in my life, just beginning to understand the privilege and power that there is in praying for my family (yes, including Paul), just beginning to realize that joy is mine in Christ, regardless of my circumstances. Is my situation any harder, more unique, more distressing or discouraging than yours? NO! We all bear burdens in this life - family members who don't know the Lord, loss and grief, aging parents, aging ourselves, children's heartaches, sinful choices. The list is endless.

I'm encouraged by my "book burning". God is so patient and loving with me, with all of us. He allowed me to keep those reminders for as long as I needed to. But then, He gently allowed me to release the heartache they represented to Him, to let Him deal with it. I am trusting Him that I don't need to be reminded any longer of those dark days. My circumstances haven't changed and I still have much to pray about. But I am just a little closer to realizing the victorious life that is mine to claim as a child of God. And even as I cry through my prayers for all the situations that weigh on me, I feel the blossom of joy blooming inside me, knowing that God has got it all under control!

Friday, January 3, 2014

Signs That I Have Been Really Sick



I haven't had a Goldfish Cracker in 2 weeks.

I have a bag in the other room that is full of $50 worth of chocolate for Christmas treats that I never made and I haven't broken into it. (Yet)

I let Jenny and Zac make all of Christmas Eve dinner. (Fabulous job, by the way.)

I was relatively unconcerned when the first batch of brandy sauce for the bread pudding had to be thrown into the orchard.

I let the kids put together all of Christmas Day dinner, including the famous family lasagna.

I'm using Kleenex from a box that Jenny's puppy chewed and slobbered on because I haven't felt well enough to get up and get a new box.

I haven't enjoyed a glass of wine in 2 weeks.

I let myself be taken to the ER where I was bossed around for 4 hours by Sarah. (Also, a fabulous job.)

I then let myself be babysat by Melissa overnight and all the next day. (A 3rd fabulous job.)

I let the puppy (Jenny's) have the Reader's Digest to chew up rather than get up to find him a doggy toy.

I have a personal bond with the characters on "Modern Family."

I actually had to ask for help. And I had to accept it!

I've spent $300 in co-pays in just one week.

My T.V. is overheated.

I haven't worn earrings in 2 weeks.

I had $10 in Kohl's cash that was expiring in 2 days. I couldn't make it to Kohl's so I ... (gasp) gave it to Sarah!