I'm ...

What is it about being single that makes me think about my youth? I believe I am content in the circumstances that God has allowed. I believe I have a forgiving spirit. I know that God is all-sufficient and that He wants me to totally depend on Him. And I want to. But there is something nagging at me and it's silly. I don't want to look old. I want to lose weight. I want to be perky, slim, confident, capable, and well, younger! And for what? Or should I say for whom? My kids and grand kids don't care what I look like (unless I'm wearing tie dye). I'm not dating anyone and would undoubtedly have a panic attack if I attempted dating. God certainly accepts me just the way I am. But the fact that Paul is gone has left me so unbalanced. I should now have complete and utter freedom to be and look however I choose. No one sees my lime green knee socks under my extra large flannel P.J.s. No one. And maybe that's the crux of the matter. God is my all-in-all but He, in His wisdom, designed us for relationship, not just with Him but with others. The main "other" in my life was my husband. That post is vacant now and while most times I'm O.K. with that, I'd be lying if I tried to convince myself that I don't miss having someone just for me. Don't get me wrong. I'm so blessed by my children and grandchildren. I can't even imagine being without them. A husband, though, plays a different role in a woman's life. So occasionally, I come home and wish I had someone to sit with in front of the fire.

Now here's where it gets a little weird - it's on those occasional nights that I begin to look at myself and all that I think is wrong with me. I start off with my wrinkles and weight and if I let it go, it quickly progresses to my abilities (or inabilities) as a wife and mother. If I continue in that vein, in the end, I deem myself completely unworthy of anyone (besides God) loving me. But is that what God intends for me? Sometimes, God reminds me of His constant presence by allowing distressing things to happen that drive me to Him. I'm honestly grateful for that because I don't naturally go to Him when all is well. And let's face it, if I believe that I am God's child, uniquely created by Him, perfectly designed in His image, what am I saying about the Lord? Am I saying, "God, you screwed up when you made me"? I need to hang onto His perspective. If I can remember who I am in God's eyes it just might change my whole view of myself. (It certainly should but I'm just saying, it seems that I struggle with that idea a bit.) I just recently heard the song "Forgiven" by Sanctus Real and it sounds so much like the stuff that I do - I let a lot of crap into my mind, especially when I'm alone at night.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sRKAXU1Fjic

"Forgiven" by Sanctus Real

Well the past is playing with my head
And failure knocks me down again
I’m reminded of the wrong
That I have said and done
And that devil just won't let me forget

In this life
I know what I’ve been
But here in your arms
I know what I am

[chorus]
I’m forgiven
I’m forgiven
And I don’t have to carry
The weight of who I’ve been
Cause I’m forgiven

My mistakes are running through my mind
And I’ll relive my days, in the middle of the night
When I struggle with my pain, wrestle with my pride
Sometimes I feel alone, and I cry

In this life
I know what I’ve been
But here in your arms
I know what I am

[back to chorus]

When I don't fit in and I don’t feel like I belong anywhere
When I don’t measure up to much in this life
Oh, I’m a treasure in the arms of Christ ‘cause

[back to chorus]

I'm "a treasure in the arms of Christ." Who cares if I've gained a little weight? Who cares if I actually look my age? I do but should I? It only causes me discontent. God accepts me and loves me as I am and I should love myself in the same way. That doesn't mean I have license to do whatever I want. I'm still responsible for my actions and I'm still expected to continue to grow to be more like Christ. However, in the meantime, I need to get over myself and enjoy how God has blessed me. Because... He has!!

Pride (or) My Husband Might Be Happier Without Me

Understand this - This is a positive post! My girls don't always get that and sometimes the things I write make them sad. (I'm so blessed by how much my four daughters care about me!) But for me, positive perspective and conviction usually come from painful reflection or realization. It's a process for me, one that feels like it has been very slow, a little like pulling a bandage off a tiny bit at a time. In the end, though, healing  can begin once the air hits that newly revealed skin.

I seem to go from one extreme to the other in terms of how I feel towards and relate to other people. I'm either a bit of a hard-ass and none too sensitive (my daughters have experienced far too much of this, sorry girls) or I feel so much compassion/pity/sympathy/whatever for someone that it clouds my judgement and inhibits me from really seeing them objectively. It is from this second viewpoint that I have often been looking at my ex and consequently, it has kept me in a state of confusion and conflict. I'm not saying that I shouldn't feel compassion for him. I mean, after all, he gave me up. Who wouldn't feel for him? ☺ He will always be the father of my children and he filled my whole adult life so there is no getting away from that. However, I have to learn a different way of living now and I've struggled with that.

My girls have told me, on a number of occasions, that they aren't convinced that he is that unhappy without any of us. I'll never believe that he's happier without much connection to his daughters or grandchildren but that, of course, is coming from my heart. But is he happier without me? There's the question. I haven't wanted really to even consider that possibility. And it doesn't matter if I wanted him back or not. It's the thought that maybe he is kicking himself for leaving me, bemoaning his miserable, lonely existence, missing what he had, begging God for resolution, etc. that has consoled me a bit. Consolation - weird word to use here, but fitting, I think. What is a consolation prize? It's a prize for someone who has already lost! A joke, really. A prize that says, "Here, you're a loser but thanks for trying." So I had lost my husband but have been hanging onto the thought that, at the very least, he regretted his actions. And I  believe he does have many regrets. But what if he isn't all that unhappy with the consequences of those actions?

Can I accept this idea? What if he didn't really want to be my husband and just didn't know how to get out of it? What if he is happier being on his own? What if, in his heart, he is too self-centered to sustain a viable relationship? I honestly don't know because we do not communicate and I don't want to assume or pretend to know what he is feeling or thinking. The important thing here is how this makes me feel.

When I began to consider, and then finally embrace, the idea that maybe he wasn't as miserable as I thought he should be, I got pretty down. I was surprised by how heavy that thought felt and struggled with discouragement and sadness. Normal, I believe, but still tough. I mean, if the man you committed your life to doesn't want you anymore, of course, you're going to feel like a piece of shit for a while. But then you move beyond that and I had. I knew that I hadn't been the perfect wife but I had at least gotten to the point where I also knew that the problems had to have gone so deep and it wasn't all about me. Nevertheless, to realize that he might not be thinking of me every single minute was somewhat of a revelation. (I know I should perhaps have  gotten to this point sooner but I'm slow that way.) And this week, after I worked through the depression of that insight, a new emotion emerged - FREEDOM!

That's right. It is a freeing thought. Don't get me wrong - there is still a lot of sadness. I never wanted my marriage to break up and will always live with that loss. But I've been so stuck and couldn't seem to let anything go. But now? Maybe he loved me, maybe not. Maybe he misses me, maybe not. Maybe he wishes he'd done things differently, maybe he never even ponders any of it. It doesn't have to matter to me anymore. It's done. While I'll always be connected to him, I don't have to let that strangle me. Sure, it hurts my pride to think that I didn't measure up, in his eyes. The Bible has so much to say about pride and none of it is good. It's definitely been a humbling experience since Paul left but I have clung to my pride, at times, like a lifeline. And it has been dragging me down, sinking me, overwhelming me - my connection to him defining me.

Hopefully, no longer. As God's child, I need to see my reflection in His eyes, not in the eyes of a human who rejected me. I'm no holier than Paul and I cannot expect him to be less sinful than me. I have worshiped him far too long! Thoughts of him have consumed me - that makes him an idol. He has crowded out the space that God should rightfully occupy. But truthfully, I've really been thinking mostly of myself and that is simple and sinful pride. What if it is true that Paul doesn't miss me that much? Does that make me any less in God's eyes? Praise God, no! So I'm working on hanging on to that lifeline! And God will never disappoint, fail, abandon, forget, or love me any less!

It's Complicated

So, I was sitting in bed tonight, zoning out with T.V. and waiting for the little magic pill that the doc gave me to kick in and knock me out. I've got a bad case of poison oak and sleeping has been miserable, if not impossible, so I went to MedStop after church today and got some drugs. Hope they help. Meanwhile...not much on T.V. So, for some odd reason, I watched the movie "It's Complicated." In case you don't know, it's about a couple who have been divorced for ten years due to the man's infidelity. The man has remarried (to a much younger woman) and he and his ex-wife have a brief affair together. I'd seen the movie before and my girls thought I was crazy to watch it the first time. Maybe. But I was desperate for something to take my mind off the itching. Anyway,  there may have been some nuggets of truth in the movie - as well as a lot of poor choices. But tonight, I'm just going to comment on the nuggets...

The ex-wife, played by Meryl Streep, is building an addition to her house and remodeling some other parts of the house. She tells her architect to re-do her bathroom and leave out the "his and hers" sinks. She wants just a "hers." He tries to tell her that it would be better to have two sinks and that she might need one in the future. She replies, "Sometimes, having two sinks just makes me sad." I can relate to that. I am living in the same house that Paul and I shared and for the most part, it's been fine. I love it here and God has enabled me to separate (emotionally) the house from Paul. That second sink, however, is a sad reminder in the morning. When Donny and Melissa were living with me, one of their cats was terrorizing one of my cats so my cat developed the strange habit of peeing in Paul's sink. How's that for poetic justice? But now I don't have that distraction anymore. (Thankfully, though I miss Donny and Melissa, once their cats were gone there were no more weird cat pee incidents.) It's sort of like having a big walk-in closet that you used to share. I had to just spread all my stuff out and buy more stuff to take care of that problem. ☺ But the extra sink?

The most interesting part of the movie to me was how Meryl's character began to see her ex after they reconnected at their son's college graduation. She was caught up - in the history they shared, in the attention (from a currently unhappily married man), in the "not alone anymore-ness", in the "what ifs" and self-doubt. She seemed to forget the bad stuff and covered it over with enough good stuff to blind her just a bit. I've struggled with that myself. I cannot always, can't even mostly, see Paul as the bad guy. No matter what, he was my husband for many years, the father of my children, and I loved him very much. At the end of the movie, Meryl tells her kids that though she and their dad aren't getting back together, he will always be a part of her. I can relate to that as well. I don't mean the getting back together part. That wasn't really an option that I was ever given. But Paul always will be a part of me and that sometimes causes conflict and turmoil inside myself. I need perspective and pray often for wisdom. I want to see him objectively, as a sinner just like me, but I don't want to sugar coat what happened so that it blinds me to the truth. Meryl also tells her kids that "knowing how to be divorced is just impossible." So true!!

I read a review today on the book "A Grace Revealed-How God Redeems the Story of Your Life" by Jerry Sittser. The author had lost his wife, daughter, and mother in a tragic car accident. He says,

 "As we surrender to Christ, God's story, the story, can envelop and transform all other stories, "however sensational or mundane, tragic or happy." Sittser sees himself "as a witness to this truth: God redeems our stories through him. If you dare to surrender yourself to God, he will take up the story of your life and integrate it into the great story of salvation, turning it into something so extraordinary that you will be tempted to think it was all a beautiful dream."

What will I allow God to make of my story? What would happen if I dared to surrender it all to Him?

Then I followed that up with an article on grace. James 2:10 says,

"For whosoever shall keep the whole law, and yet stumble in one point, he is become guilty of all."

That's me God is talking about - guilty of all. I am no better than Paul (or anyone else), I am no purer, I am no more worthy. Beginning to grasp that concept has helped me to forgive Paul, to continue to care about him though I can't live with him, to be able to pray for him, and is drawing me, I hope, closer to God. When I dwell on the injustice to me and let that fuel anger and bitterness, my relationship to God and His grace suffers and begins to feel a little distant.


All this out of a crazy movie? You never know what thoughts will spin around in your head while you're trying not to scratch. Lord, let the transforming of my story begin!

The Unseen

Three years ago today Paul walked out of my life. How long will I mark time in this way? I feel the anger welling up in me and I struggle to keep it under wraps. I can't stop thinking about the part in II Corinthians 4 where it says,

"We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not despairing; ⁹ persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed;".

I like the way The Message says it...

"We’ve been surrounded and battered by troubles, but we’re not demoralized; we’re not sure what to do, but we know that God knows what to do; we’ve been spiritually terrorized, but God hasn’t left our side; we’ve been thrown down, but we haven’t broken."


Corinthians was written to believers who were suffering because of their faith. I can't say that is the case for me. It's not a "holy suffering." It's just plain old "I live in a sinful world" sort of pain. Of course, on top of my marriage dissolving, there are always other stresses, some very difficult and personal and every bit as heartbreaking as infidelity. What can I say about myself? I'd like to be able to confidently declare that I don't feel despair or demoralization. Unfortunately, that isn't always the case. However, God is sustaining me and maybe I just can't see around the corner. So this is my loose paraphrase of II Cor. 4:8-9 ...

"I have been distressed by circumstances so constantly and for such a long time now but I have not given up. I get up every morning and face the day, most often, now, fairly effectively. But even on my bad days, I never completely throw in the towel and I do not  blame God (though occasionally He and I may have had strong words). I am definitely puzzled by God's plans and intentions for me. I often wonder if I'll ever be useful to Him and I question whether I will ever get over myself and move on. But I know that He is in charge and I recognize that I would screw things up if I were the boss. So I try to trust that God knows best and I accept that He is not required to tell me the future. When despair or sadness overtakes me, I hang on and ride it out because I know from experience that this heaviness will pass. I sense at times that my struggles are attacks from Satan but I know that God will never abandon me. I am not alone and I must believe that in my heart even when my head tells me otherwise. I've been knocked down, humiliated, disrespected, ignored, called names, used, and taken for granted. I've also had to take a good hard look at my own sins and faults and face them head on. Through it all, I HAVE NOT BEEN BROKEN OR DESTROYED." Praise God!!

II Corinthians 4:16-18

¹⁶ Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. ¹⁷ For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. ¹⁸ So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.

Marriage & My Week

It's been a bit of an interesting week. Partly, I think I am feeling the effects of, once again, living on my own. I have renters in the house with me but we are simply roommates. This past year I was blessed to have had Donny and Melissa living with me as well as Jen and the kids here a lot while Zac worked in L.A. All that has changed and I no longer come home to grandchildren worshiping me or Melissa laughing with me. And that's O.K. I'm thrilled for the girls and am grateful that their lives are their own. Zac is back in town and Donny and Melissa have bought their own home and that is as it should be. I am just recognizing that it will be an adjustment for me.

In addition to those adjustments, I've dealt this week with tough class subjects. On Tuesday nights, I am in a Women's Bible Study group and we are currently studying Proverbs. The subject matter this week is marriage. Can I skip that part? Then I went to my Biblical Counseling class last night and the subject matter was...marriage. It was a double whammy. I had some trouble sitting through the class last night. As I listened to the instructor talk about family dynamics and the needs of a husband and wife, I couldn't help but feel a failure. I have struggled with this issue ever since Paul left. What was my part in the breakup of our marriage? My sins? My contribution? Then that rolls into thoughts like, "Did I drive him away?" "Was I that bad?"

Now, before you get your panties in a bunch and come after me, hear this...I know these are unhealthy thoughts. I know that no matter what the state of our marriage was (and by the way, I was under the impression that it was pretty good), no matter what I did or didn't do as a wife, Paul had choices to make and he made wrong ones. However, with that said, even though I know my thinking is skewed, it is a battle that is waged periodically and last night was one of those battles.

My friend, who was sitting next to me in class, described my experience this way:  She said, "Debbie, it's like a bomb just suddenly blew up in front of your face. You're standing there looking around. You're all right and your family is intact (minus one), but the dust hasn't settled and you're seeing devastation all around you and you don't know what happened." It is an apt description.

I drove home crying some and praying a lot. Mostly, I was telling God that I just didn't know what to do with the information, the emotions, and didn't know how to even pray about it. I knew that I needed to pour out my heart to Him and let Him take it from there. Thankfully, He understands. I simply need to get whatever words out and then wait. He will take it, interpret it, and get back to me. And has He?

Well, I can honestly say that I woke up this morning feeling peaceful and looking forward to the day (which includes a mammogram so you know He is working on my attitude). Have any of my circumstances changed? Absolutely nothing. But He is the ultimate Counselor and His counsel is perfect. I have no answers for myself or for anyone else. But once again, I am assured that He is in control, He has filtered and allowed my experiences, and all will be used for His glory. I need to continue to commune with Him and lift my eyes towards heaven. My identity is in the Lord, not in a husband. My value is in Christ, not in the things of this world. My home is in heaven, not on Peachy Canyon (although I'm closer to heaven here on my hilltop than most of you ☺). Praise God! I'm going to set those somewhat self-destructive thoughts aside for awhile and give God time to help me process and let Him tell me how and what to think. Meanwhile, I'm going to indulge in some highly advanced therapy - RUMMAGE SALE, HAIR COLORING, mammogram, TRADER JOE'S, & DINNER WITH A FRIEND!! Can you tell which one I'm not excited about?

Letting Go

Today, I put my precious youngest daughter Tammera and her two sweet kids on the plane back to Tucson. They had been visiting for three weeks and while that is a nice, long visit, I hadn't seen them since May of last year. And - who knows when she'll be able to come out again? I am continually amazed at how much we all love and care for her. God grafted her into our family years ago. I didn't really understand the process but now, I can't imagine my life without her. She truly has become one of my own. I don't mean to sound sappy but I don't take this relationship for granted. My other girls were stuck with me from the start. Tammera and I chose each other. Maybe it's much like the way God grafts us into His family. I love Tammera for who she is, not for anything she does. That's how God loves me too. But today, I had to let her go. As painful as that was, she has a life and a husband in Tucson and that's where her place is now. I feel pretty sad tonight but kids growing up, moving away, having their own families, all that is normal. I hate the letting go that is part of that process but I accept it. I'm already eagerly looking forward to the next time we are together and I can hug all of them (By then, she'll have three kids)!

I've been thinking a lot lately about another kind of letting go. I was talking to Melissa the other night and I heard myself say to her, "There isn't one hour of any day that I don't think about your father." That was bothering me and as soon as I heard myself say it I knew I had to do something about it. I pondered this as I went to bed that night. I realized that Paul did consume my thoughts and consequently, I was constantly hurting. I was imprisoned in a way, by a man who was no longer in my life. I wondered if I could ask God to free me from the steady onslaught of memories, regrets, feelings, and thoughts. I was afraid. What if God answered my prayer? What would I think about? What would I have? And was it even right to be weary of the turmoil that thoughts of him brought? I felt convicted that it had been long enough. I may always love Paul and I will never regret my life with him. But it is gone now, not by my choice, but still gone. I very tentatively began to pray and ask the Lord to sort out my thoughts. This is hard for me to describe but it just felt so strange to be asking God to help me stop thinking about my husband! I fell asleep a little uncertain, wondering if I were on the right track, not understanding completely but suspecting that I was headed in the right direction. A few nights later I was at the Biblical Counseling class that I am taking. Afterwards, I was talking to a dear friend and I shared a little of what I had been thinking about. She jumped on it in her passionate, enthusiastic way. She's been where I am so she can get away with that. She very definitely felt that I needed to stop the unending cycle and boldly told me that it was sin! She said that I was putting Paul in the place where God should be. "Like an idol?", I said. Exactly. The Lord should consume my thoughts, not a mere man.

I think that God gave us that conversation that night and that it was confirmation to what I had already began processing. I really appreciated her honesty, her courage, and her genuine concern for me. She prayed with me before we went our separate ways and I haven't stopped thinking about all of this since. I haven't arrived! But I'm on the bus. My desire is to glorify God through my life, whatever that life looks like. It seems that for now, that means letting go of the person that occupied the most major portion of my life. It is an extremely painful letting go, not at all like seeing Tammera off. But for the Lord, for myself, for my girls, it is a step I need to take. With God's strength, it will be done.

Philippians 3:13-14

Brethren, I do not regard myself as having laid hold of it yet; but one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and reaching forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.

What Are You Telling Me, Lord?

I have been home sick for a week now and I am not a good patient. Watching hours of mindless T.V., cruising Pinterest and Facebook, or watching old movies can only occupy me for so long. I've been going out of my mind with boredom. Last night, I was so desperate that I found myself watching "The World's Worst Tattoos". That was a low moment. Anyway, I have also been reading whenever I felt like it but I have been reading my standard trashy murder mystery/detective stories. I decided, yesterday, that I might benefit from reading something a little more challenging and uplifting. A friend recommended that I read, "Same Kind of Different As Me". I had actually bought the book a long time ago but had never read it. Seemed like a perfect idea so I jumped right in and started the book. It was immediately captivating and I was enjoying it immensely. It's the story of a rich white guy and a homeless black man who are brought together by the white guy's wife (who is an amazing woman). Things were going along great, I was into the book, it was taking my mind off my confinement, and I was learning some stuff too. All good, right? Well, then I came to the part in the book where the white guy had an affair with a 19 year old woman. He confessed, under duress, and his wife called the girl, told her she forgave her and didn't blame her, and then told her husband that she forgave him and she'd commit to saving the marriage. I set the book aside.

Still determined to not resort to violence in my literary endeavors, I switched to Joyce Langdorf's, "Mourning Song". This is a book about grief. Now you might think this an odd choice for me to turn to after abandoning the previous book. But I had been wanting to read it again because I was curious about exactly where I might be in the process of grieving for my marriage. Two things struck me as I skimmed through the book. The first thing was that Joyce Langdorf was so dedicated to her mother during the process of her death. I immediately began to have doubts and regrets about how I had handled things during my mom's protracted illness and dying. Secondly, regarding my marriage (actually, the lack of a marriage), I had thought I had reached the "acceptance" stage but as I read, it began to look more like I was in the stage that usually preceded acceptance and that was labeled..."depression". I set the book aside.

Now, I could spend a lot of time explaining the differences in how my husband responded to his infidelity, what I experienced and felt during my mom's dying, etc. And now would be a good time for some profound insight that God gave me. In fact, after setting the second book aside, I literally turned to God and said, "Lord! What? What are You telling me?" The truth of the matter is that I got nothing! I went back to the first book today and finished it. It is a really good book and I would recommend it. I'm still not sure what God is saying to me. I do have a few tentative thoughts though.

I'm very up and down. Sometimes I seem really tuned into God and other times I don't seem to hear Him at all. How much I hear Him, or, better yet, how well I listen to Him, is affected by how regularly I talk to Him, read His Word, etc. Duh...I mean that should be a given and at 60 years of age, I know that. However, I'm still irregular in my communication with Him. Secondly, I may not know what He is trying to tell me today, but I will. And I'm confident of that. I didn't used to feel that way but I know He'll never leave me completely in the dark. My life here on earth seems to be on a "need to know" basis and I need to be O.K. with that. In fact, I actually feel almost excited. I feel like I'm on the cusp of discovering something - maybe just a small little truth - but a truth nonetheless, that will move me forward a bit. I've been in a "dry" spot. I thought I was accepting my new "single" status because I wasn't crying anymore about you-know-who but honestly, I think I've just been temporarily shut down. Maybe that's why I zeroed in on "depression" in the second book. Joyce Langdorf talks about the "apathy of grief". I think that's a good description of what I've been feeling. Apathy. I have loved and cared deeply and now I'm tired. But as I'm pondering all this, I think, "that's o.k.". It's all a process and I'm getting there. I'm honestly not discouraged. I have no idea what my future holds and I totally know that I need to get much less "irregular" about spending time with God. I say that I know He hasn't abandoned me. I say that I know He's in charge. I say that I trust Him. I say that I'm not angry with Him. I need to put my money where my mouth is. And maybe that's my message for today.

While I think about that, I'm going back to my murder mystery...

Easter

Today will be my third Easter without Paul. In some ways, it seems like he's been gone forever. But other times, it's as if he were next to me just yesterday. That first Easter without him was the first time I went back to church. He had left on January 31st and I hadn't been to church since that day. I figured Easter was a good day to give it a try. I knew there would be so many people at church that I would be less noticed. I remember nothing else about that day except that I made it. Made it to church, made it through the day. And that was enough - for that day. I struggled for the whole next year with getting myself to church. So many memories were there and it was painful to be there. My attendance was irregular but I kept at it. Easter, 2011 approached and I read that our church would be having the Stations of the Cross for Good Friday. I decided to go, all by myself, and I was so blessed by the experience. I was needy and God met me there. I didn't have to wonder or struggle or question. I sat in the dark, read the folder that gave guidance on what to reflect on and how to pray, and slowly moved through Christ's suffering, death, and resurrection as well as pondered my own suffering.

For just about the whole next year I continued to struggle with the church thing. I visited other churches and finally settled on a tiny congregation of people that loved the Lord and were so welcoming to me. I knew I needed to be in church - wanted to be in church - but oh, it was difficult. Paul and I had been so involved and one of my greatest joys had been ministering along side of him. Now, everything was different. But that little congregation gave me breathing room and a little more time to heal and I am so grateful to them. I recently decided to come back to my old church. I had mixed feelings. The little church I had been attending had been like a balm to me, soothing and refreshing. But it didn't feel like home. Paul and I had been attending the same church since moving to Paso nearly 17 years ago. Somewhat reluctantly, I left the small group that had been a refuge for me and returned to my home church. That was about two months ago. While getting myself to church is still a struggle, I am no longer haunted by visions of Paul and for that, I am grateful.

And so it was with a lot of anticipation that I approached this Easter. I was looking forward to going to Stations of the Cross again. I went early in the day and there weren't very many people and that suited me just fine. Again I was blessed by the time I spent with the Lord as I contemplated Christ's sacrifice for me. I've been crying about my own losses long enough! Christ gave up His very throne in heaven, for a time, for me! I need to live for Him, not for myself. For the first time in a long time, I feel myself looking ahead. As I prayed on Good Friday, I asked the Lord to help me look up towards Him instead of inward, towards myself. I also asked Him to use me, somehow.

Melissa asked me yesterday that if I had known my marriage would end up like it has, would I have still gotten married. She wanted to know if I had regrets. It was a tough question and one I hadn't really thought about. I finally told her that I had no regrets and despite what has happened I have lots of good memories and of course, awesome daughters. I was reminded of something I had read in the book, One Thousand Gifts. The author, Ann Voskamp, was relating a conversation with her brother-in-law who had buried two children in less than two years. She said to him, "If it were up to me, I'd write this story differently!"

Her brother-in-law responded that maybe he didn't have to understand all that God allows. He tells her that maybe, just maybe, you don't want to change the story, because you don't know what a different ending holds. God knows how it all works out even though we don't. And all the loss we experience in this life draws us closer to the God who loves us endlessly.

So that is where I want to be this Easter. I want to let God write my story and I want to trust Him fully with the plot of my life. I want to be filled with the joy of His salvation and rejoice in the fact that He chose me! In the end, I will spend eternity with the God who gave Himself fully for me. This in-between stuff? It's just the movie trailer.

Has God quit talking or have I gone deaf?

I've been thinking lately that God has been a bit silent in my world. I wake up in the morning and I think, "O.K. Here we go again. But is this it?"

Some of the ways God speaks to us are through our circumstances, the world around us, scripture, the Holy Spirit, and through Jesus Christ. Well, I've still got all those things. So why do I feel like He is quiet? I do not feel abandoned by Him -  not in the least. And I really am not questioning Him about why He allowed certain things in my life - most notably the betrayal and abandonment by my husband. But it's been two years now and I guess I didn't expect to still be struggling. Or at least not struggling as much as I am. My difficulties fall in a couple of general areas...

1.  How do I feel about Paul? No matter what he has done or isn't doing, we were together for over 35 years. I have no memory apart from him. My girls and I can't look at old pictures, can't reminisce about good times past, can't laugh about funny family history. He is everywhere and it has colored our saga, skewed things a bit. I'm sure it won't always be this way but it also will never be what it used to be. Things are further complicated by the fact that I cannot hate him, cannot dismiss him, cannot forget him, cannot understand him. If I could sustain anger for any length of time I could keep some pain at bay. But I cannot remain angry and honestly, I don't want to. I want a peaceful acceptance of what God has allowed. And I am getting there although sometimes, it is slow going.

2.  What do I do now? Perhaps this is where I feel God's apparent silence. I feel so adrift. Do I spend the rest of my life alone? I don't relish the thought and there are even moments when I think I would like another relationship. But most of the time I think another man would be way too much work and I'm too old and tired.  I am so blessed by my kids and their families, my dad, and my friends. They are usually enough. I mean really, I was never good at dating when I was young and I'm not going to be any better at it now that I am almost 60! One reason for getting married is so you don't have to date anymore! I told my girls that I'd have to hit a man with my car before I'd know that God wanted me to consider another relationship. In this category of struggle, it isn't only the loss of my husband. There has been a ripple effect, as I suppose there always is. Church has been a huge part of my life for many years. Paul and I were in ministry together and I loved it. I kept going to church for a long time after he left but every Sunday I saw his ghost up on stage. I finally couldn't stand it any longer. My attendance got more and more sporadic. But that didn't feel right either. I knew I was missing out and I knew it wasn't God's intent for my life. I started visiting other churches. What a dreadful process! I'm sorry, I know I should probably say, "We're all the family of God and our unity in Christ should cross physical boundaries, blah, blah, blah." In my head, I know it's true. But in my heart, I want to be "home" again. Right now, I think this is where I feel God's silence the most.

Even when the Israelites wandered in the wilderness, God spoke to them through Moses - over and over again. I suspect that He continues to speak to me too. I am just getting hard of hearing and I have a couple of ideas why that might be. First of all, I drown God out. Am I ever silent before Him? Doubtful. The noise of my life swirls around me, effectively blocking the sound of God's voice. I also am very haphazard about my time spent studying God's Word. I mean, there it is, in it's entirety, right in front of me. It is available to me 24/7 but I usually have other things to do. His spoken Word, His inspired, God-breathed Word, is written down for me. How can I have the nerve to say that God is silent? I listen to God like I sometimes listen to Melissa - you know, I tune her out and say "hmm" every so often. I write this blog partly because it causes me to face things that I need to change in my life. I sort out stuff, write it down, and hope that something sticks.

Sometimes, though, God waits in seeming silence. And I wait - for direction, for peace, for comfort - all things that I know God will bring to me. How awesome it is to KNOW! And how awesome it is to long to hear His voice! No matter how miserable I've been, I have always known that God is in the pit with me. And maybe sometimes His silence causes me to appreciate Him all the more. It sort of coerces me into eliminating all the clutter in my life so that I can just lean towards Him.

In her book entitled When God is Silent, Barbara Brown Taylor writes these words,

"God's silence is as much a sign of God's presence as of God's absence. That divine silence is not a vacuum to be filled, but a mystery to be entered into. Unarmed with words and undistracted by noise, a holy of holies, in which we too may be struck dumb by the power of the unsayable God."

 Praise God for His presence!



Romans 15:13
May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.


Ecclesiastes 11:5
 As you do not know the path of the wind, 
or how the body is formed in a mother's womb, 
so you cannot understand the work of God, 
the Maker of all things.

Anger - (Warning: Slightly inappropriate language)

I was watching a TV show the other night and it featured a married couple who appeared to be about my age. In this particular episode, the wife was celebrating opening her own store and was having a party for her family and friends. The husband took a moment and toasted his wife, praising her for her brains and her beauty and her stubbornness, etc.

Son of a bitch!!


What? Did I say that? I sort of whispered the words but inside I had screamed them!  And then I immediately felt a great sadness. Where had that come from? Believe me, my language isn't always pure but I don't ever remember calling anyone that. The show I was watching was a happy one. Why this sudden reaction?

I began to think about what I was feeling. I realized that at the moment that I watched that husband toast his wife, I instantly became aware that there would be no man toasting me for anything any time. At my next birthday I'll be 60 -  sort of a monumental birthday and not one I'm happy about. I don't want a big deal. That's not me. But I must admit that a loving husband singing my praises would not have been offensive. I was taken by surprise by the depth of my reaction and the anger that overtook me. Recently, after seeing a counselor for over a year, I was released  and deemed healthy enough to cope on my own. Her parting instruction to me, however, was to deal with anger. She didn't mean she wanted me to stop getting angry. Nope. She wanted me to get mad. In fact, her exact words were, "Where is your righteous indignation?" Well, I might have found it for just a moment.

I had wondered if it might overtake me suddenly and unexpectedly. And so it did. It didn't last long but it did serve as a warning. There is stuff buried inside me and while I really am doing well, I still have garbage to deal with and I need to be careful how I deal with it.

In the Bible Study that I am a part of we are learning about how God heals our hurts. Over and over, it seems to come back to trust in the Lord and fill yourself with His Word.

"Joy is a deeply-rooted confidence that God is in control.  

We cannot avoid pain but we can avoid joy because joy is the harvest of a life that consistently pursues God and insists on seeking His truth, longing to obey that truth.  The pursuit of joy is a matter of choice and perspective."


I don't know where I read that but it so speaks to me and my situation. I long for God's perspective on my life and also for my kids' lives. We seem to have the pain part down pat but joy? I've got a lot to work on in that arena. But I can honestly say that I am getting closer. Don't get me wrong. I am sometimes lonely without a husband. I am angry that he was unfaithful. I am confused about how it happened and how I could not know the man I had been with for 37 years. It has taken me awhile but I am going to sleep with fewer and fewer tears and the worry level really isn't too high. 


I have my moments. I can't lie. The other night, I made the mistake of pulling out my Social Security statements to see how much I'll get at each different age should I ever retire. Let me tell you - it was sobering.  Of course, I had always thought that there would be two social security checks plus a husband's retirement plus eventually, a house with no mortgage. All that has changed. I did spend a day or so sort of worrying about it. But fairly quickly, I was able to give it to God. I want to want what He wants. And I want desperately to please Him and trust Him fully. He has saved me! If He can do that, why do I worry that He might not take care of my physical and financial needs? He created and formed me and chose me! I don't need anything else. My dad is a pretty wise old guy and he told me something not long ago that has stuck with me. He said,


"We have limited ability to change our circumstances but unlimited ability to change our attitudes."


So I'm a work in progress but I'm beginning to have moments where I can feel a little excitement about what God might do in my life. I'm focusing a bit more on what I've got than on what went missing. I'm old enough to remember the Mary Tyler Moore Show from the '70s. In the theme song the famous phrase was, "You're gonna make it after all."  Yep, I'm gonna make it. But I do NOT want to limp into heaven still playing the part of a wounded victim. I want to race triumphantly into my Savior's arms having committed myself to obey Him above all else.



I lift up my eyes to the mountains—where does my help come from? My help comes from the LORD, the Maker of heaven and earth” (Psalm 121:1-2, NIV).

"'For your Maker is your husband—the LORD Almighty is his name—the Holy One ofIsrael is your Redeemer; he is called the God of all the earth. The LORD will call you back as if you were a wife deserted and distressed in spirit—a wife who married young, only to be rejected,' says your God" (Isaiah 54:5-6).

Christmas, a dog, and vodka

Last Christmas was sort of tragically pathetic, but since I have a rather sick sense of humor, I can chuckle about it today. I was remembering last Christmas because I have begun to think about the holidays. It's almost November and once again, the season has crept up on me and I will soon be feeling uninspired, overwhelmed, and frantic. I hate that. I wish I was the type of person who planned and prepared all year long. Who am I kidding? That is never going to happen. There might still be time, though, for me to put a little forethought into the holiday season. We'll see. Anyway, back to last Christmas...

It was my first Christmas without a husband (no, I'm not a widow, although violence has occasionally crossed my mind). My youngest and her family were in Arizona and could not come home for the holidays. The other three were going to have their own family stuff at their houses first and then everyone was going to come up to my house for Christmas dinner and gifts for the little ones. It was a different plan than we had done in the past but I think we were all feeling like we just couldn't do things the same as we had always done. It wasn't the same, never would be the same again, and we just couldn't face the hole that betrayal had left.

The kids did come over on Christmas Eve for our traditional soup supper and stocking fest. My dog, Dakota, seemed a bit off and I decided to keep her locked up in my bedroom for the evening. The little ones made her nervous even when she was feeling well. Dakota had been Jenny's dog until she left home and now was really my husband's but of course, when he bailed, he left her behind. For a while, she had looked for him every morning (they used to walk down to the mailbox together) and every evening for a little roughhousing. She had made the transition, finally, and now had settled for me. She'd always been a little crazy and high strung and even though she was 12 or 13 years old, she could still tear up our long driveway in front of my car. When I went to my room later that Christmas Eve, I realized that she wasn't in any shape to run. She was very sick and was throwing up constantly. I moved her to the hall bathroom where it would be easier to clean up and she continued to get sick. She seemed excessively thirsty but would almost immediately throw up any water she drank. This went on all night long. I felt horrible for her but didn't know what to do. Neither one of us slept and by morning we were both exhausted. I sensed that things were getting critical but it was Christmas Day and I was just trying to survive. My dad and brother were supposed to come for breakfast and then the kids and grandkids were coming later in the day.

My dad woke up that morning and wasn't feeling well so he called to say he would skip breakfast. My brother never showed up. It was just me and Dakota and we were in sad shape. I love having animals but I am filled with such heaviness when it becomes apparent that they are at the end of their lives. I had to face the fact that Dakota was dying. She was so sick. I tried to start on Christmas dinner and I checked on her every few minutes. She continued to worsen. Finally, I could stand it no longer. I left everything as it was in the kitchen, put her in my car, and drove to the 24 hour emergency vet clinic in Atascadero. I called the kids on the way down and they all insisted that they wanted to come with me but some things I just have to do alone. This was one of them. The people at the clinic were so kind and I sat on the floor with Dakota until she was gone. I was relieved that she was no longer suffering but it seemed such a depressing end to a very difficult year. I got so angry about the fact that I was dealing with this by myself instead of sharing it with Paul. But those thoughts weren't doing me any good. I was glad for the long drive home so that I could cry for Dakota, for myself, for my kids, for my marriage. It gave me time to pull myself together and suck it up. It was Christmas Day! Really, who puts their dog down on Christmas Day! It just didn't seem fair.

When I arrived home Donny and Melissa were already there and were working on the dinner and setting the table. Everyone else arrived shortly thereafter (Zac with a beautiful turkey) and all pitched in to get the meal on the table. My kids and their husbands were awesome and in spite of the dog glitch we still ate relatively on time. Later, I was sitting on the couch enjoying a White Trash Margarita (*recipe to follow) and reflecting on the day. I realized that I was so tired from being up all night and had been so consumed by dealing with the dog that I hadn't had the time or energy to cry about the devastation that was my life. Dakota was an old dog, She had been hit by cars three times and had survived a rattlesnake bite. She was a tough old girl but wasn't going to live much longer. God, in His graciousness, chose that particular Christmas. Should I have been rejoicing in the celebration of Christ's birth? Of course! But He knew that I was so wounded and raw from all that had happened and He also knew my heart and mind would be on all that was wrong that year. I'm so grateful for His mercy to me that day and I'm grateful that He doesn't expect perfection from me. He used Dakota's death to ease me through a day that otherwise would have been much more painful. I'm looking forward to this Christmas. It has to be better than last year! But I remember last year with thankfulness for a little black dog that stood by me until the end and for the God who knew just what I needed.

*White Trash Margarita


Mix equal parts of Limeade frozen concentrate (do not dilute) and Vodka in a blender. Add plenty of ice and blend until slushy. Enjoy! (Can also be made with frozen Pink Lemonade.)