25
Nov

november 8

I’m divorced.

It was a quiet day. I visited with my attorney for an hour. She explained what would likely happen in court, both if Leonard showed up and if he didn’t. She said that if he showed up, the judge would schedule a half-day in January or February. But, if Leonard didn’t bother to show up, the judge would sign the papers right then.

He didn’t bother.

At the time, I thought, is that all there is to it? We chat for 3-4 minutes? The judge asks if I have anything to say? I don’t? He signs? It was a bit surreal. Almost like a slow-motion dream. I remember thinking, never mind Heavenly Father . . . I don’t need your help after all. It was like the story of the guy in a precarious position in a tree who prayed for help and then when things turned out OK for him, he said, never mind, God.

And, then I had a big moment when I realized and acknowledged that Heavenly Father had actually taken care of all the detail the last several years. He comforted me. He guided me. He prompted me. He protected me. He encouraged me. He soothed me. He put people on my path. He inspired me.

And once the storm is over, you won’t remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won’t even be sure, whether the storm is really over, but one thing is certain, when you come out of the storm you won’t be the same person who walked in. That’s what this storm’s all about.

There are still circumstances that need to be worked through. Leonard owes me almost $20,000. He still needs to come and get his things. The protection order is still in force until February, so he will need to have law enforcement with him. He will make things miserable. He will blame. He will deny. He will minimize. He will justify.

But, four years of meth, heroin, oxy, prostitutes, lies, alcohol, deception, money disappearing, locked doors, sneaking, girlfriends, texts, pornography . . . all over. I don’t have to live with any of this. This darkness. This disgust. This ugly.

I cringe when I think of 32 years of my life gone. I force myself to look at it differently because, it’s too painful to dwell on. I beat myself up when I think too long and hard about what I’ve made of life. Or, rather, what I haven’t made of life.

I am waiting in a silent prayer
I am frightened by the load I bear
In a world as cold as stone
Must I walk this path alone
Be with me now
Be with me now

Breath of heaven
Hold me together
Be forever near me
Breath of heaven
Breath of heaven
Lighten my darkness
Pour over me your holiness
For you are holy
Breath of heaven

I listened to this the other day and although it is obviously a song from Mary to the Lord, I identified with some of the phrases.

Help me be strong
Help me be
Help me

I feel broken and alone and cold as a stone on many a day. But, I have hope and faith and a testimony that I am visible to God and his Son, and that I am fixable.

I am fixable.

 

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