An Anniversary of Sorts

Exactly 6 years ago today, on another Sunday, my world as I knew it quietly imploded.

im·plode

  (ĭm-plōd′)

v. im·plod·ed, im·plod·ing, im·plodes

v.intr.

1. To collapse inward violently.

2. To undergo a catastrophic failure

I did not see it coming but it was certainly a "catastrophic failure". My marriage of 37 years would never be the same again. The landscape of my life and the way I pictured it was forever changed. Now, on the anniversary of the disaster, I find myself reflecting back on where I have been and where I find myself now.

I'm grateful that this many years have passed. I feel like I have finally reached a point of pretty steady contentment and I'm glad to no longer be in the early, painful, emotional days. Can I say positive things about my situation? Of course, although I would never say that the break-up of my marriage was positive in and of itself. My personal belief is that the death of any marriage is tragic, simply because it goes against God's design and intentions. That said, some relationships fail and cannot be resurrected. I hesitate to even admit this as a Christian, but some relationships should not be revived.

I still get anxious and stressed sometimes but usually, I am anxious about the stresses in other people's lives, particularly my children. Strangely, I haven't mastered leaving them in God's hands. I seem to be able to be patient and trusting as I work through my own trials but can't yet manage to apply that trust in God to their lives. I'm working on it but as a somewhat "controlling", "fix-it now" type mom, I'm a bit like a paint-by-number in progress.

So, what is it that I have observed over the last six years?

First of all, I discovered that I could survive - but only by God's strength and grace. I learned what God really meant when He said, "the two shall become one",  because I felt it keenly when that "one" was divided. When my mom died, I realized that all the rest of "life" didn't get put on hold just because I wasn't done grieving my marriage and that it was possible to taste "grief upon grief". I slowly became more flexible as I chose to rent out part of my house to different people so that I could stay on the property I loved and, more importantly, allow my dad to stay in his home on the same land. I practiced finding joy without being able to share it with a partner. And as I felt "singled out" or like an "oddball", God showed me that I was most definitely not alone and that my situation was certainly not unique. Oh, and how God showed me His faithfulness - even though my circumstances didn't change, or, they changed too dramatically to suit me.

There is much I miss about marriage and just because God has enabled me to be content in these circumstances doesn't mean that I am unaware of what I am missing. Is God sufficient? Absolutely! Do I rejoice in my singleness? Umm...Not exactly. Do I think God will use my experiences in the lives of others? I really don't know. But I do know that He is using them in my own life. I am constantly reassured that God is very present and has not, nor will He ever, abandon me. I imagine, though, that I am like the tortoise. I am a plodder. I keep soldiering on, step by step, day by day, but it is slow going. I sort of wish that I could be like some people who have the sudden revelation and immediately grasp what God has for them and then rejoice and celebrate in it. That isn't me; at least not at this stage of my life.

I'm not as hard on myself, though, as I used to be. I know I could do better and I know I still disappoint and neglect the Lord. I also recognize that I used to be motivated by lists and activities and actions that didn't always have my heart behind them. Because that was what motivated me, I had a sub-conscience tendency to feel that I was "earning" God's good pleasure. It has only been recently that I have really been able to embrace the idea that no matter what I do, God will NEVER love me less than He already does. Maybe that is what God is burning on my soul during these days.

"I love you Lord, I worship you,
Hope which was lost, now stands renewed.
I give my life to honor this;
The love of Christ, the Saviour King!


Saviour King

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!

A Hard One

Been thinking some hard thoughts lately. Or maybe, more accurately, I should say that I have been avoiding thinking them. They touch just at the edge of my conscious mind before I push them away. I don't want to let them in. I think it's because I have no idea where they will end up. Too many thoughts rattling around in my head and I can't sort them all out. But it's two in the morning and, thanks to the prednisone I am currently on, I am still awake. I figured I might as well do a little exploration. Not sure if it's wise to share so personally but somehow, this writing is therapeutic for me and maybe my crazy thoughts are in someone else's head too.

It has occurred to me that I don't cry much at all any more over my failed marriage. I don't think it's that I'm over it. I'm wondering if I just needed to take a break from the effort of trying to understand what has happened. Will I ever make sense of an event that was so wrong? I doubt it. But I can't seem to let it go either. Do I still love him, miss him? I'm sure that's part of it, in spite of all that has happened. But there is much more and at the root of it is my pride. His total rejection and abandonment of me has thrown me. Am I so unworthy? So unlovable? I know I was far from perfect but when I'm rational, I also know that it probably wasn't much about me. His hurts, insecurities, desires, and weaknesses eventually got the upper hand. My weaknesses and failings contributed to the mix. And yet, I missed it for so long. He seems to me to be an illusion, someone I thought I knew but obviously did not. Again, my pride takes a beating. I mean, after all, shouldn't I have seen it coming? Couldn't I have done something to help both of us? As I look back on my life it seems robbed of all validation, like none of it was what it seemed. There must have been very real times, wonderful times, but now I question it all.

There are moments when I want to talk to him so badly and many days when I honestly wonder how he is and, I'm a little embarrassed to say, some times when I worry about him. I can't even keep track of how many times I wonder if he ever misses me, thinks about me, imagines how I am. I suspect he figures I'm fine, figures I never really needed him, figures he has left me in the capable care and comfort of a father, daughters, grandchildren, friends. And to a large degree, that is true. I am fine. I really am! But that doesn't mean I don't hurt.

We can never, on this earth, escape the pain that accompanies living on a planet corrupted by sin. As a Christian, I have the Lord as my resource and strength and certainly, it is only because of His graciousness to me that I can say, "I'm fine." But the hard part is accepting that God does not remove me from the pain. Nor does He remove the pain from me. I am a doer, a follower of lists, an administrator. Can't it just be that I need to pray more? Do more Bible Study? Minister to others more? Then life wouldn't hurt so much? Certainly, I would benefit from all those things. But no matter, my joy will not be complete until I am lifted from this world and safely in the arms of my Father. So that is what my struggle boils down to - accepting the pain while rejoicing in the blood of Jesus that saved me and the Glory of God that awaits me.

Please don't think that this is a depressing state I'm in. In fact, I just might be about ready to burst out the other side of "down in the dumps". Often, when I let myself think too hard, I can relate to the philosophy that  says, "life sucks and then you die!" But if I continued in that frame of mind I would miss all that God has for me here and now. When I bang on heaven's door and complain to God and beg Him to ease my pain right now, I deprive myself of what He can offer me in the meantime. I owe my life to Him and the work that was accomplished on the cross and my future lies in the hope I have in His eternal promises. It all sounds so lofty but grabbing hold of this truth is what I want to make real in my life. My pain pales in comparison to most people's lives and I feel insignificant even talking about it. But, it's where I'm at and it's my pain so I have to deal with it. Comparing myself to someone else will only make me feel guilty (I'm a master at that) and won't help any in the long run.

My struggle is not really because of a failed marriage. That just happens to be a symptom in my life of the sin that permeates our world. I want the Lord to change me, from the inside out, so that my perspective is completely different. I want to live like I've already got one foot off this earth and reaching towards heaven, holding out a hand to reach for His, able to cry because it hurts but also to sing because I know what awaits me.

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...