I wasn’t supposed to get a divorce. I was supposed to be married to the same man, the man I believed God had chosen for me, for the rest of my life. We would deal with our share of problems, sure, but divorce was never going to be an option. I don’t give up. I’m not the kind of gal who accepts failure, and I certainly don’t get myself into anything I’m not 100% sure I can see through. So imagine my surprise, heart-break, disgust, when I found myself signing those divorce papers a mere two and a half years after saying “I Do.”
I decided to write this blog because my divorce rocked my world, tested my faith, and changed my life. I think, especially for women, the word “divorce” has such a negative connotation. It’s something I have been ashamed to talk about. It drug my self-worth into the sewer. It was like quicksand that I couldn’t escape. BUT, the good news is that being a divorced 32 year old woman does not define me as a person. It doesn’t define my soul or my heart or my future.
This blog is the story of my marriage and divorce, but more importantly, it’s the story of healing. The story of learning how to stand up again and keep moving. The story of taking something ugly and trying to create beauty. The story of how a gracious and loving God wouldn’t let me fall.
1 John 4:19 “We Love Because He First Loved Us.”