Me & Sheila

We sat in the arctic like waiting room with a multitude of others...all races, ages, genders represented and all as cold as I.  He was sitting across the room, ignoring my presence as is typical.  The father of my children.  The man I once vowed to love and cherish in sickness and in health.  It was an endless and cold wait.

Being my typical forthcoming and direct self, I made my way over to him so we could pass the time and talk about our children.  I hadn't brought anything aside from my case file, so the boredom and cold was eating at me.  I also wanted him to understand what had happened from my perspective to bring us to this place.  The conversation was needed, but didn't give me the peace I was hoping for.

Peace with an ex husband perhaps is not attainable.

 This conversion of all things legal in relation to our boys began a chain of thought that ended with the realization that I had successfully survived the stages of grief.

Two years later and I am finally healing.

My friend and I were discussing the nuances of relationships.  She is having a difficult time with her boyfriend, and contemplating the decision to leave.  This is not a foreign topic to us.  We discuss all things relational often.  But I heard myself tell her something that usually is not a part of my typical responses: "It's not the easy times that make you grow...you grow and change because of the difficult times.  So maybe this is just simply to make you stronger as a couple if you love each other through this."

(Pause while I have a conversation with my dog who apparently needs to potty for the fifth time in the last five minutes.  I believe she is just bored and wants to play outside.)

I had this thought last night about my stainless steel cleaner, Sheila Shine.  I set an alarm on my phone with the label, "Sheila Shine" so I wouldn't forget to process the thought.  Sheila Shine is the best stainless product I've ever used and can never get the stainless appliances to look anywhere close to the way it looks when I use this product.  When I clean the stainless without it, it ends up looking streaky and dull.  Every imperfection is noticeable.  Every mar on the stainless begs attention.  It is a subpar substitution for the good stuff.

Relationships without love and forgiveness are like stainless steel appliances without Sheila.  They end up dull and streaky, noticeably marred and imperfect.  They have lost their shine.

Every relationship I've had ended because we did not have the tools necessary to overcome difficulties.  The answer has always been to disconnect and terminate.  Perhaps that was the best solution.  That was most likely the only tool we had.

But I am confident of this: relationships without love and forgiveness will either end or be lackluster.  Like my stainless without Sheila.  And I am confident of my desire to never be in a lackluster relationship again.

For the past few months my heart has been restless.  I continued to live as I have before...like the broken girl who avoids pain at all cost.  But the things that used to give me relief instead started causing more pain.  I saw a trend in small changes.  My passion for playing the piano was renewed, the men who used to entertain me and pass the time no longer appealed to me.  The work I used to enjoy became mundane.  Alcohol started to become suspiciously unsatisfying.  The endless Netflix shows became noise in the background.  My non-attendance at church became suspect instead of purposeful.  I was just restless.

(Suspicions about dog confirmed.  It was play she was looking for.  Not a potty break.)

God has intentionally drawn me to Himself.  I never lost Him.  I was never without prayer.  But I was without His fullness.  I was lackluster.

The main focus of my life is finally to live in abundance.  To live an intentional life.  Instead of existing in survival mode, I am now able to live a calculated life with purpose.  And that life includes living and breathing the Creator who has carried me through every disappointment, every heartbreak, every obstacle in my life that could have destroyed me.  The girl of two years ago that was staring at the seven stages of grief with despair and hopelessness is unrecognizable to who I am now.

And in order to survive future heartbreak and obstacles, I have to hone the skills needed for love and forgiveness.  Sheila and I have some intentional living to do.

Rolling River God

River God

Little Stones are smooth

Only once the water passes through

So I am a stone

Rough and grainy still

Trying to reconcile this river's chill

But when I close my eyes

And feel you rushing by

I know that time brings change

And change takes time

And when the sunset comes

My prayer would be this one

That you might pick me up 

And notice that I am

Just a little smoother in your hand

Sometimes raging wild

Sometimes swollen high

Never have I known this river dry

The deepest part of you

Is where I want to stay

And feel the sharpest edges wash away

And when I close my eyes

And feel you rushing by

I know that time brings change

And change takes time

And when the sunset comes

My prayer would be just this one

That you might pick me up 

And notice that I am

Just a little smoother in your hand

Couch Crying

Psalm 84:3

Even the sparrow has found a home, and the swallow a nest for herself where she may have her young.  A place near your alter.

The song, "Gratitude" by Nichole Nordeman reminds me of how much I have to be thankful for.  I have two beautiful boys, an amazing family, equally amazing friends, a business I love, and enough money to provide.  With or without a partner, my life is full.

But as the song ends with a plea for God to provide what is lacking/wanted, I find that my soul is often in that same state of yearning.  I knew how to be a wife...I was good at it.  Being a single mom, however...a bit tricky.  One of my sweet friends texted me yesterday and said that she was thinking of me...as Jesus encourages us to take care of the widows she believes taking care of single moms is also equally important.  Her thoughtfulness combined with an unwelcome text from an ex, and seeming rejection from yet another man triggered a day full of tears and heaviness that I've not allowed myself to feel for a while.  My Apple Watch reminded me multiple times throughout the day to breathe because my heart rate was elevated.  (Big brother was also affected by my tears.)  I could not stop crying to save my life.  

My boys don't see me cry very often.  I generally don't cry.  I'm in survival mode most of the time, so the tears are held at bay so I can function successfully.  And seeing them respond to my tears is enough to continue this lack of tears.  They did not like that I was upset and stayed close to me all day..randomly giving me hugs.  We laid in bed and watched an afternoon movie.   I ended up at my friend's house, though I told her I wasn't fit to be around people, crying on her couch while our kids played.  She's the kind of friend that is not afraid of tears and loves me however I am...blubbering or laughing.  My boys slept in my bed.  I needed them close to me.

In my ingratitude, I yelled at God while I was driving to get my boys.  My windows and sunroof were down and I got some curious looks.  I was that girl in the car who drivers stay away from because she is a seeming crazy person.  I did not care.  In fact, the stares were a welcome reminder that I do, in fact, exist.

On one hand, I am enraged at the injustice of my life...but the other more prominent voice is that I don't deserve good things and I will be more content if I just accept that.

I suppose some of this upset is because I go to court this morning to resolve custody issues.  My parents aren't here to go with me, so I'm bringing the same crying-on-the-couch friend.  She said she will hold my knees when they start shaking.  Hopefully, she is bringing some tissues also.

This is going to be the kind of week that will demand growth and change.  My boys will be gone which will provide forced introspection.  I can't allow myself to stay stuck in a place of ingratitude and yearning.  It will erode what is left of my heart.  I have no choice but to push beyond the pain to find peace.  The kind of peace that can only be imparted by the One who made me.  Even if that means I end up crying on my friend's couch for seven days straight.

"Gratitude"

Send some rain, would You send some rain?

'Cause the earth is dry and needs to drink again

And the sun is high and we are sinking in the shade

Would You send a cloud, thunder long and loud?

Let the sky grow black and send some mercy down

Surely You can see that we are thirsty and afraid

But maybe not, not today

Maybe You'll provide in other ways

And if that's the case... 

We'll give thanks to You with gratitude

For lessons learned in how to thirst for You

How to bless the very sun that warms our face

If You never send us rain

Daily bread, give us daily bread

Bless our bodies, keep our children fed

Fill our cups, then fill them up again tonight

Wrap us up and warm us through

Tucked away beneath our sturdy roofs

Let us slumber safe from danger's view this time

Or maybe not, not today

Maybe You'll provide in other ways

And if that's the case...

We'll give thanks to You with gratitude

A lesson learned to hunger after You

That a starry sky offers a better view

If no roof is overhead

And if we never taste that bread

Oh, the differences that often are between

Everything we want and what we really need

So grant us peace, Jesus, grant us peace

Move our hearts to hear a single beat

Between alibis and enemies tonight

Or maybe not, not today

Peace might be another world away

And if that's the case... 

We'll give thanks to You with gratitude

For lessons learned in how to trust in You

That we are blessed beyond what we could ever dream

In abundance or in need

And if You never grant us peace...

But, Jesus, would You please...

Beautiful History. Stubborn Roots.

I was driving through north Louisiana with my parents and got a random message from someone I knew a long time ago.  Someone that knew me before my divorces...before my kids...before my attitude became pessimistic and apathetic.  His view of me was that I had the personality able to change lives...that I lit up a room...  His opinion of me sounded foreign and perhaps uninformed because the girl who wears her clothes now is a far cry from the girl in his memory.

Before my trip, I asked a dear friend if I was good dating material.  I respect him and knew I shouldn't ask the question if I didn't want the truth.  His response was (something alone these lines), "Well, you're a conservative Baptist on one hand and a party girl on the other.  It's a hard sell."

I'm typically attracted to men that are unlike my father.  They aren't church goers.  They are blue collar workers.  They are the men of country songs.  They viewed my Southern Baptist family who sings before we eat, reads the Bible around the table, and quotes scripture together as odd and somewhat comical.

I have often thought that I was not good enough for someone like my dad.  Not that blue collared workers are less than professional men...this is far from the truth.  But they are not labeled socially as "intellectuals", and this is the difference in my head.  I had this idea of what I deserved and someone seemingly smarter than me was always terrifying.  It accentuated every negative thought I had about myself.  I aimed towards those I could out-debate...out-manipulate...out-think.  Not that this was the reality, but it was one I was comfortable with.  The illusion was comfortable.

This is perhaps why I have not been successful in relationships.  In an attempt to eradicate my past, I have instead heightened its importance.

For perhaps I am who my family is.  Perhaps I am still the girl in her twenties who led a ministry, who wrote devotionals, who led Bible studies.  Who is at her core attracted to men similar to her father.

Perhaps it's time my path takes me back to my roots.  Despite the hard work I have put into removing them, they have stubbornly dug themselves in deeper.

This girl may just be tired of fighting her beautiful history.

Falling Upwards

My beautiful friend came over yesterday with her son.  I had had a very trying day.  I was feeling heavy because of the anniversary of Graham's near fatal drowning, I had cleaned about 25 toilets, 7 showers, and four kitchens that day.  I got pulled over on the way home because my son threw a water bottle out the window.  I came home to a dirty house with piles of laundry and dishes in the sink.  I hadn't gone to the grocery store in over a week so we had little food.  My mind was in turmoil over the many bills I have to pay and small amount of money I have to pay them.  I quickly vacuumed in preparation for her visit, and thought while I vacuumed how incredibly difficult it was to keep up with everything.  Every piece of paper in my boys' folder required a different action from me.  Field trip forms and money...homework...studying...book fair reminders...festival t-shirts...dress down day...water bottles...snacks....signing test papers...reading to my sons....it was just too much and I felt like a total failure.  I thought about other moms who brought cupcakes to school and whose kid was always prepared and dressed accordingly.  I was beyond exhausted...way past being stressed.  I needed a friend who understood and God knew this before my day had even happened when He prompted her to text me.

I vented to her my frustrations and fears.  I told her how I had come home the night before to my house with the door wide open and two little boys who were crying for fear that we had been broken into.  I told her how desperate and scared I felt in that moment with being single.  I shared my heart and she listened and got in the pit with me to console me.

She did not judge.  She empathized and listened and loved me.  And I immediately felt a weight lifted because I knew I wasn't alone.

I watched the movie Tully at her suggestion.  It's about a mom who's totally exhausted and has lost herself.  Her husband has not experienced this...men rarely do... all he is able to see is that his once vibrant wife is gone and has been replaced with a zombie covered in stickers and throw up who has bruises on her feet from constantly stepping on leggos.

I get her.

In my moment of frustration and fear yesterday, I had the thought that I was thankful my boys weren't with me for a week at a time.  As much as I miss them, I need help.  And their dad alleviates my stress when they stay with him.  I am finally able to see the benefit, besides my boys bonding with their father, of them being gone.

Being a single parent is incredibly difficult...if not sometimes damn near impossible.  I applaud women who do this without help.  I can't imagine how lost and scared and helpless they feel.

Yet somehow, we rise and overcome.  Somehow, our failures become our falling upwards moments.  We do things we never thought we could.  We surprise ourselves with our abilities and our determination to keep it together so our kids can thrive and be happy.  We have no other choice if we want the best for our kids but to survive...and do it well.

I'm so thankful that it's a new day.  I'm so thankful that I have another opportunity to get it right...to choose words of kindness over criticism when my boys make a mess or disobey.  I get another chance to dance with them while making dinner.  I get another stab at choosing joy over misery.

All because it's a new day. 

And this single momma is a survivor.

I'll Get Over It ... Maybe

It's Monday morning...the dreadful, hated Monday when I drop my boys off and won't have them in their beds for a week.

These are the Mondays when I clean all the linens, I clean up the remainder of their messes, and shut their door tightly.  All week long it will be an act of attempting to avoid their room at all costs.

I REALLY hate these Mondays.

At least now the tears stay at bay.  They used to fall freely during these weeks.

I had someone tell me that I was not all that great of a catch.  I was renting at 41, didn't have health insurance, and my parents had to help me with a car.  His message didn't have the desired effect.  I read it and chuckled sinisterly because I knew he didn't get it.

The repercussions of divorce go much further than the emotional pain.  It creeps into every area of your life...known and unknown...expected and unexpected.  I didn't expect it to affect my ability to get health insurance.  I didn't expect it to affect how much I pay in taxes.  I didn't expect it to affect my ability to be a boss.  I didn't expect it to turn me into a sinister, bitter woman.  I didn't expect it to change my desire to own a house.  I didn't expect it to separate me from married people or those who had never been married.  I didn't expect it to make me sympathetic towards government programs.   I didn't expect it to confuse the issue of religion.

And I certainly didn't expect to be writing about it almost daily for two years.

I keep telling myself that I'll get over it.  I'll get over missing my kids like crazy.  I'll get over having the weight of the world on my chest and feeling all alone in carrying it.  I'll get over the financial struggles, the dating chaos, the bitterness, the questioning my decision, the wanting him back feeling, the worry for my kids.

I'll get over it.

Right???  Time heals all wounds.  So they say.  I wonder if whoever said this was a divorced, single mom.