“When someone shows you who they are, believe them the first time.”-Maya Angelou

I always thought this was a pretty pessimistic outlook on life. I have had so many failures that reflect poorly on my character, that if folks didn’t give me a second chance, I wouldn’t have any friends at all. What about giving someone the opportunity to learn from their mistakes? What about realizing that everyone grows at a different pace? What about recognizing that with age comes wisdom? Give a girl a chance!

It took my divorce for me to fully understand what Maya Angelou was so graciously trying to tell us. When my husband told me he didn’t want to be married to me, he wasn’t lying or confused or going through an early on-set midlife crisis. He really and truly just didn’t want to be married to me. Plain and simple. No amount of soul searching on my end was going to change that fact. Like I’ve said before, the “why” doesn’t really matter. I would have saved myself a lot of grief if I has just accepted his words as being completely honest. It would have given me a more realistic perspective of where we were and where we needed to go.

This doesn’t mean that I still wouldn’t have fought for my marriage or that God couldn’t have helped us save our relationship, but starting on a firmer foundation of honesty would have been healthier for me in the long run. This advice rings true in every partnership in our lives, not just marriage. Because of my failed marriage I tend to cling to “my people.” I find someone I can trust, put them in my tribe, and suffocate them. I do this whether they want it or like it or have asked for it or not. I’m clearly a gem that way. Taking a step back and truly listening to the words or actions a person is putting out into my world is not a concept I have fully grasped yet. Not my finest attribute…I like to consider myself a constant work in progress.

In thinking about this particular topic, I, of course, feel much gratitude to those who humor me and patiently stay corralled in my basket of loved ones…but it also made me think about what I’m saying to God on a daily basis. What am I showing him? Is what I show him a direct reflection of who I am, and if so, is that the kind of girl I truly want to be? It’s all fun and games while we sit back and judge what others are showing us, but what have I shown my Lord and Savior lately? Ugh. What a terrible thought.

I should have believed my husband when he said he didn’t love me. I should believe my friends when they show me they need space away from me and my crazy. I should believe when people reach out to show they care, that they truly are interested in my life. And I should own the fact that what I put out into the world, is who I am at my core. Aren’t we all blessed that God never accepts our first answer. He believes I am capable of more, he created me for better, and he loves me too much to let me stay unchanged by his mighty power.

*Special thanks to all those who selflessly accept their place in my tribe without complaint. I know it can get rough in there.

2 Corinthians 5:17 “Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come.”

The beginning of November 2013 brought about a big occasion: The Walt Disney World Wine and Dine Half Marathon. My husband and I had signed up to run it months prior and the weekend of the run was fast approaching. The half marathon was scheduled for his birthday and we thought it would be a super fun mini-vacation, as well as an awesome accomplishment to fly down to Florida and run this race together. My parents were on board as well. They planned on flying down and spending the weekend with us and cheering us on at the finish line. Hotel rooms were booked, my parents and I had scheduled our flights, my training was spot on. I was ready. The huge hiccup in the plan was that my husband, all of a sudden, thought this was a bad idea and hadn’t booked his flight.

In reality, the reason he thought it was a bad idea was because he didn’t want to see my parents. He didn’t want to face my parents. Who would? What do you say to the mother and father of the woman whom you have cheated on? I had already purchased my plane ticket, which led to a huge fight. If he wasn’t going to go, he didn’t think I should go either. Looking back, I can’t decipher or even understand that logic. I remember feeling horrible that I had gone “behind his back” and booked my flight. I apologized and cried for hours for not discussing my plans with him beforehand. By the end of the conversation I was convinced I had created yet another huge problem in our marriage and I slunk away to try and think of a way to ease the tension and fix my mistake.

Time certainly gives a gal perspective and the truth is, booking a flight to run a race that I had trained to run and had planned on running did not make me a terrible wife. What is terrible is that he didn’t hand over his credit card and book it for me, including the up charge for priority boarding. All this being said, he hadn’t booked his flight and I had no idea whether he was coming or not. My parents offered to let me stay in their hotel room, there was no way they were cancelling…this was happening.

Long story short, after much debate, he did book a flight down to run the race. He would fly down with me, but fly back immediately after the race (I always assumed this was to avoid more time with my parents, but I guess I’ll never know for sure). I was staying the original length of the trip. I don’t think I truly believed he was actually coming until I saw him get on that plane. The optimistic child inside of me just knew this was a sign. We would all sit down as a family and talk this thing out. By the end of it, he would decide our marriage was worth saving and my parents would understand that he was only human, had made a horrible mistake, and would agree to work on mending their relationship with him. Plus, this blessed reunion was going to occur at the happiest place on earth…how could it fail?

We flew down after work on a Thursday evening. My parents had already arrived by the time we landed. We checked into our room, had dinner at the hotel, and headed to bed without seeing my parents. It was late, and I knew no one was ready for whatever confrontation awaited them. Things were strained, but they had been strained for months, I was learning how to live with “strained” and make it my new normal. I knew the next day would bring the strength of my parents. I was exhausted on so many levels and having them there to help ease my burden was such a Godsend. If I could just continue to hold on and stay positive, everything was going to be ok.

We all spend a lot of time working to make everything ok. Refusing to give into failure. Accepting our circumstances. Choosing to bloom where we are planted. These are all lovely attributes. But, what I forgot for awhile, was that I was still a person. Still a child of God. Still worthy of respect and love. My blessing is that even when the one who promised to love me unconditionally for the rest of my life forgot that, God gave me parents with the strength to hold strong for the woman God created me to be. They never faltered, which is why I am still standing.

Isaiah 33:2 “Lord, be gracious to us; we long for you. Be our strength every morning, our salvation in time of distress.”

I’ll be honest, we didn’t last long in therapy. I could blame the expense or the time commitment, but the truth is he just didn’t want to go and I didn’t want to push him. By this point I was making myself sick doing everything possible to make him happy in our home so he wouldn’t up and leave me.  I could tell every time we went to therapy his sole purpose was to prove that we shouldn’t be married, and more importantly that we never should have gotten married in the first place. It’s not even that we gave up on therapy. He stopped making the appointments and I acted like I didn’t notice or care that this weekly ritual had ended. He stopped pretending to fight and I began pretending it didn’t make a difference.

Before our journey into therapy ended, we did complete a big assignment. Our therapist suggested that we go out on a “first date.” My husband was to call me, invite me out on a planned date, and on the date we would re-meet each other. We were supposed to go into this pretending we didn’t know anything about the other person. A true first date. To me, this basically meant that he actually had to spend a whole evening with me. I was beyond excited.  I mean, we had killed it at dating back in the day…maybe we just needed to remember what had initially attracted us to each other.

Problem #1 occurred in trying to find an evening for a date. Since I was trying desperately to be a non-nagging wife, I decided not to mention the fact that we hadn’t completed our assignment and the deadline was fast approaching. I didn’t exactly know what the hold up was, but finally I felt the need to confront my husband on this situation. My arguement was this, if we were going to pay for therapy, then we needed to take it seriously and do what the man asked of us. This was a MARRIAGE we were trying to save. Please try. We had to at least try. I needed him to try.

He called me while I was at work to ask me out. I remember thinking it was hilarious and being excited all at the same time. He played his part well, acting like he didn’t really know me, which tickled me, and we decided on a time and place for our date. I found the idea of going on a date with my husband thrilling. I don’t really know why. Maybe it was because we had spent so little time together lately. Maybe it was because this was going to force him to actually look me in the eye and speak to me. Maybe it was just because I loved him and wanted to be with him.

The second problem of date night was the World Series. His team was playing and this meant a lot to him. At this point, we had been together over 7 years. His teams had become my teams. I had been forced to watch countless hours of baseball, football, and hockey. I had the gear. I owned jerseys, hats, t-shirts. I even knew the rules! We watched Sport Center every night. I wasn’t a moron. I knew this was a big deal, but so was our marriage. And sometimes you have to make sacrifices in life. He was going to have to miss a game (a very important game) to take his wife on a date. I could sense his urgency to end the date early, so he could get to the TV, from the moment the evening started. I took a deep breath, gritted my teeth, and tried not to think about baseball. And off we went.

He had the advantage of already knowing what restaurants I liked, which was great. He had thought ahead. He took me to my favorite wine bar for a glass of wine before dinner. We started with small talk. We talked about our family, what colleges we had attended, what we did for a living. I wanted to keep it light and fun. I had spent way more time than usual picking out the perfect outfit, doing my hair, actually putting on make up. I was trying my best to buy into the whole “first date” idea. If things kept going like this, then it was actually going to be a fun evening. It was interesting for me to listen to him talk about his life from a different perspective than what he had 7 years prior. We had grown and we had changed, but we had done it together. For the past 7 years, his experiences had been my experiences. In my mind, I loved the idea that we had become who we were by living this life side by side.

And then, things started to go south.  Here’s the thing about sharing your feelings in couples therapy: If you’re honest, then the other part of your couple knows your hot button issues. I had been honest. We went from the wine bar to one of our best-loved restaurants in my favorite area of the city. We had reservations (always a plus). We ordered, and then the conversation turned. He began trying to discuss subjects he knew I was uncomfortable with. He made statements he knew I would disagree with. It was almost as if he was looking for a fight. And then it hit me. This was just a show. He had put together the seemingly perfect date, just to prove that we weren’t compatible. He wanted to go back into therapy exclaiming with pride how much effort he’d put into our evening, with the discovery that we just weren’t suitable for each other.

I felt my heart sink. Yet again, the realization that this man sitting across the table just didn’t want me. I looked into my husband’s eyes. I knew this man, and he was a stranger all at the same time. I refused to fight with him. Refused to play along with his little game. If he wanted to prove how wrong I was for him, he was going to have to do better than this. We finished our meal, and he asked if I’d like frozen yogurt for the walk home. And, as so often happens in New York, when we got to our frozen yogurt place we found that it was out of business. I’m sure in his mind this was some sort of sign about the future of our relationship…but here’s the thing about New York, there’s always another frozen yogurt place up a block or two. I cheerily suggested we try the next place. We were ending this thing on a high note, so help me God!

He walked me back to our apartment. We ended the assignment at our door. Then, we went inside and he finished watching the game that meant more than marriage and I went to bed still pretending this has been a successful evening while trying to convince myself that I was worth more than baseball.

This was the end of our adventure into therapy.

James 1: 2-3 “Consider it pure joy, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance.”

Today is Good Friday. Arguably the darkest day in our history. Sunday is Easter. A day full of hope and redemption and a reminder of eternal life. As Christians, these days touch our hearts and are a symbol of Jesus’ sacrifice for all mankind. The saddest time and the happiest time…separated by only three days.

Most of our days on earth fall somewhere in between. We have our share of rough moments and joyful moments. But where do you stand on your own personal darkest days? Where do you stand when you can’t see the hope? It’s easy to praise God on Easter. It’s easy to have a grateful heart when you realize all your sins are forgiven. It’s easy to show grace when evil is being defeated. It’s easy to be strong when no one is challenging your faith. The question is, do you know who you are when the darkness suffocates you? It is too hard to start trying to figure out God’s justice while we’re in the middle of destruction. We need to work out our faith ahead of time.

We all have our personal “worsts.” The worst thing that has happened to you. The worst day of your life. The worst case scenario coming true. Mine has been my divorce (clearly…that’s why I’m writing this blog). I realize other people have had worst “worsts” that I, but this is the worst that defines my life. And now, looking back on my worst, I see beyond a doubt, what saved me. My personal relationship with Jesus Christ. Living in my own personal hell, but waking up knowing that God was with me helped me handle my days with as much grace as possible. As my baby sister would say, “You gotta know where you are in your faith, before you need it.”

The other side of this is the “Easter” part of our lives. We tend to expect perfection out of the Easter moments. The perfect outfit, the perfect meal, the perfect hymns…even the perfect Easter picture. But on that first Easter, do you think everyone was perfectly joyful? My bet is that they were more confused than anything else. “The tomb is empty…where is the body? This is nuts!” The joy isn’t found in the perfection, it’s found in the miracle. Not in the meal, but in the company. Not in the picture, but in the story. Not in the pageantry of one day, but in the gift of everlasting life.

Know God during Easter so you can cling to him during Good Friday.

Matthew 28:6 “He is not here, for he has risen, just as he said.”

My ex-husband and I started dating when I was 23 years old. Therefore, my entire adult life, up until recently, was spent with him. When we got married I thought about how beautiful it was that we had “grown up together” as adults. We had watched each other grow as people. We had grown in our careers. Grown in our dreams. Grown in our lifestyle. We moved ourselves to a lovely little apartment on the Upper West Side in New York City. He had become incredibly successful in his chosen profession and I had gone from a girl with no clue to a young woman who was starting to find her voice in this crazy city.

We also, very naturally, fell into our relationship roles. I knew he was smarter than I was. He was great at math, and he took on the financial responsibilities in our little household. He made our budget and I trusted him completely with our expenses. Driving has always stressed me out, so when we went out of town he was the chauffeur. I am technically inept, so anything to do with technology was completely his territory. He even took care of my least favorite chore: taking out the trash.

I made use of my gifts by decorating our tiny space. I utilized every square inch and successfully turned our apartment into a home we could be proud of. I did the grocery shopping, I kept things tidy, dropped off the dry cleaning, and made sure each family member received a card on their birthday. I always felt that my gifts weren’t as important as his. I mean, you can survive without a cute apartment…but understanding how to back up your hard drive is vital. Still, I knew my gifts came from God and I was called to use them to the best of my ability, no matter what my personal views were of my skill set.

It honestly never bothered me that I leaned on him so much. That’s part of what defines a relationship. It’s give and take. Learning when to lead and when to follow. Being proud of your partner’s accomplishments, being proud of what you each bring to the “team”, being proud of yourself for being a positive support system. I felt that this was just one more reason that we were meant to be husband and wife. In our living situation, we complimented each other well. But folks, that didn’t mean we were going to be the perfect married couple, it just meant we worked well as roommates. But “Hurray” for me for being so positive.

Fast forward to my current living situation. All those things I was banking on having a partner take care of for me in my life, have become my problems and mine alone. Every day I realize more and more what I can’t do. At times it has become overwhelming. During my divorce, when the time came for me to leave my husband’s cell phone plan, I had a mini breakdown. I didn’t know how to save all of my photos and videos and apps. The thought of embarrassing myself in front of the poor Verizon worker gave me a panic attack. Should I upgrade? Keep my iPad on my data plan? Was there a way to save voicemails? My time frame for completing this task was growing short and I found tears welling up in my eyes as I prepared to leave the cast house and journey to the mall. This was just the beginning of many realizations I would have about what I couldn’t do or didn’t know. I’ve spent a lot of the last two years terrified.
Through these experiences I have learned three important things. The first is that I haven’t lost the ability to learn, and I am a smart woman. If I come to a challenge I haven’t faced before, I figure it out. Driving still makes me nervous, but I do it. I drive constantly. In two days I will drive 10 hours from DC to Tennessee and a week after that I will drive from Tennessee to Florida. My tires seemed low, and I didn’t know how to check tire pressure…so I googled how to do it, drove myself to a gas station, and put more air in my tires. I looked like a fool, but I did it. I’ve driven in snow, rain, and hail. Every day I face my driving fear and slowly but surely I am getting better with my road skills.

The second thing I have learned is that it is perfectly fine to rely on other people. Doesn’t make me weak or stupid or a failure. And what’s really lovely is that God gives me the people I need with the skills I need at the perfect time when I need them. Remember my terrible cell phone experience? As I was starting to panic and drive my crying self to the Verizon store at the mall, who should appear but Jake. He helped me back up my iPhoto, iTunes, contacts, etc. He helped me research which phone I should buy, how much data I would need, and which case would best protect my phone. He also helped me buy an external hard drive, so I can back up everything I own and he is beyond patient with me when I call way too early in the morning with a computer related question. He even chose the typewriter I am using to write this blog post. Not every human is going to know everything about this ever changing world, it’s truly beautiful when we are able to help each other out. Vulnerability and humility never equal weakness.

The last and most important thing I have learned is that my gifts aren’t less than or greater than anyone else’s gifts. My gifts may not be as practical as others, but they matter in different ways. My attention to detail is appreciated, when friends and family get a card from me it makes them feel special, my positivity has served me well and is even inspiring. I thought for years that my life was like a puzzle, and my ex-husband was the missing piece. The important piece that helped everything make sense. The piece that completed my life. The piece that held the whole puzzle together. Now it’s just me…and I am enough. I’m not missing a piece or a specific quality or set of skills.

I recently heard, “Faith makes everything possible…not easy.” Nothing about this life changing process has been easy. Re-learning how to live my life has been just plan hard. But I got this. And as my faith continues to grow, along with God’s guidance, I am going to be just fine…but I still really appreciate it when someone else takes out the trash.

1 Corinthians 12:4-6 “Now there are diversities of gifts, but the same Spirit. And there are differences of administrations, but the same Lord. And there are diversities of operations, but it is the same God which worketh all in all.”

 

God’s provision can sometimes be a tricky subject matter. I have found that most of the time it boils down to what folks think their provision should be vs. taking a step back and accepting God’s gifts in whatever form they come. We all want the blessings, but we’d like them how and when we personally want them, please and thank you. We plan the outline of our lives and expect God to get onboard and make it happen. We remember to thank him when it’s convenient, instead of exploding with gratitude for every moment he gives us on this precious earth. I have been beyond guilty of this attitude, and in the uncertainty of my life have found that one of God’s greatest gifts to me has been the way he has taught me to love him and know him in a brand new way. Has it been worth the pain to learn these lessons? I can now say with certainty, yes. Growing in my relationship with the Lord is worth going through a divorce one hundred times over.

One of my constant fears is employment. I rationalize this as a reasonable fear, because a girl has to pay her bills, right? It’s just me now. I am the sole provider for my household and I take being responsible for myself very seriously. I am an actress, who drives her trusty Honda from stage job to stage job…I consider finding my next contract a very important part of what I do. It takes up time, and I think and stress about it way more than I should. But, this is the field I have chosen, it brings my soul more joy than I could ever imagine, and I accept that uncertainty is often part of this life I am blessed to lead. No regrets.

I have been struggling lately with trusting in God’s provision. I have been on stage, consistently, for the past year and a half and all of a sudden I found myself without an upcoming contract. Nothing seemed to be panning out and time was ticking! Every day I would submit myself for jobs, and I was coming to the point where I really needed to decide how I was going to pay my bills when my current contract ended. Keeping the faith was becoming a struggle. I had resigned myself to the fact that I was going to have to start looking for work outside my chosen profession. And, I know this sounds selfish, but I truly feel in my heart of hearts that I am supposed to be an actress. I feel it in my gut and it makes me happy and the thought of not doing it makes me ill. So, this is what I have been faced with, and this is what I have been working on coming to terms with, and sometimes that’s life.

And y’all, God came through. In so many ways. I consider it a small miracle. First off, he surrounded me with an entire company of humans who supported me. There are too many names and thank yous to even begin to mention them all. I call them people blessings. When God provides the right people at the right time in your life who help remind you to believe in yourself. My life has become this beautiful patchwork quilt of souls that God has given me. It continues to grow and each patch is an intricate piece of art that defines a special person who has added so much to my life. Talk about blessings upon blessings.

The second part of my mini miracle is this: last week, on a day like any other, after my morning workout, I came back to my room and checked my phone…and there it was. A job offer. I had submitted last summer for a job that I didn’t get, but this company remembered me, needed an actress for a show, and had contacted ME! The timeline for rehearsals and show schedule was beyond perfect, the role excited me, I was overwhelmed. I immediately fell to my knees (while still wearing my sweaty workout clothes) and began sobbing uncontrollably. I held my face in my hands and through sobs began praising God. My God. The God who always provides. The God who gave me the passions I have. The God who knows the desires of heart. The God who has a path for my life. The God who loves me, even when my faith falters. The God who gently teaches me how to grow in my knowledge of him. The God who gives more than I could ever repay.

So, yes, this relationship with my Heavenly Father is worth any pain that I have endured. These lessons are worth the discomforts that come with an imperfect world. The joy that fills my heart, which is given from above, is worth the uncertainty of this earthy life. This reminder has been humbling. My hope is that I am reminded to constantly fall to my knees to praise the God whose provisions are always perfect. Every day. To learn to patiently follow the path he has made for me. And to constantly create gratitude for each patch of quilt he adds to my life.

Matthew 6:26 “Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your Heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they?”

I survived the rest of the wedding weekend. The next morning we got up, packed the car, and drove back to his parent’s house. I tried to talk about his behavior the previous evening, but was shut down and frankly didn’t have the strength to persue an argument. I was exhausted for so many reasons. Lack of sleep, the stress of worrying about his choices, the emotional toll of trying to stay positive about our crumbling union, and never knowing when this painful void in my soul would end. I was constantly seeking rest, but knew none would come.

I remember feeling so alone when we finally reached his parent’s home. I needed an anchor. I needed someone on my side. I needed the promise that all this pain was worth enduring. I kept waiting for someone to help me come up with a plan, to be honest about this very real problem, to start working on holding my husband accountable…but we weren’t talking about it. I felt like I was stranded on an island, screaming for help, but no sound was coming out. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore, I pulled my father in law aside and told him I needed to talk. I think he could hear the utter desperation in my voice. We got in his car and he drove me to a really lovely spot and we walked and we talked.

I look back on that day and I am thankful for the opportunity to say freely what I felt in my heart that I needed to say. I expressed my true fears. I was honest about what our lives had become. And more importantly, I asked for help. I knew guiding my husband through this difficult time in his life was not something I could do alone. I needed support. I asked for the support of his family. I asked them to support me. To support us. I asked my father in law to turn to God’s word and help guide my husband back to Christ. To me, even then, our marriage wasn’t a mistake. It was a covenant that I refused to break. I wasn’t finished fighting, but I knew I needed to call for reinforcements.

I didn’t receive the strength I needed. The troops didn’t come running to my aid. At least not the way I had hoped…the hows and whys don’t really matter. In the end, I think I took the battle more seriously than they did. But when you’re fighting for the thing you love most in the world, of course you’re going to take it seriously. I hope everyone takes their marriage that seriously. I know God does…and I will never regret taking that commitment seriously. Ever.

The next day we left. We got on a bus and rode back to our little home in a big city where my tiny heart was still hoping for a huge miracle. I felt a sense of relief in making it through the weekend unscathed. But I really hadn’t, had I? If that was my definition of unscathed, then my outlook on life was quite distorted…and it was. Upon reflection, I realize how clearly I was crying out for help. I also realize that it was incredibly difficult for me to ask for that help. Why? Why didn’t I feel fully confident in reaching out to his family (who, in turn, were my family) to help me mend our marriage? I’m proud that I did, but it took a lot of courage.

Asking for help is important. It’s a necessity. It’s hard to live this Christian life without the support and accountability of others. Having that person you can go to with any problem, prayer request, fear, or joy is imperative. I’m blessed, at this juncture of my life, to have many. My sister, Anna, helps me stay close to God’s word. My sister, Emily, keeps me moving forward. Jake refuses to let me give up. Cheyenne prays for me daily. I am surrounded by women who make the Lord a priority, and that pushes me to better focus on my relationship with him. These are all blessings.

It’s important to remember, when we feel that we need an anchor…we have one. Giving Jesus the power to keep us grounded is essential. And when we need those earthly reinforcements, he will provide them. They may not come in the form we expected, not everyone has the strength to handle the call. But they are there, reminding us that we weren’t meant to merely survive this life…they are there, through the Grace of God, to push us to thrive. I am thankful to those who continue to answer the call, hold me accountable in my journey, and force me to thrive.

Hebrews 6:19 “We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure. It enters the inner sanctuary behind the curtain.”

 

My prayer life hasn’t been as strong as it should be as of late. There’s absolutely no excuse for it. The truth is I really enjoy the time I set aside to talk with God. But, if I’m being honest I think the main reason I haven’t gone to the Lord like I should, is because I’ve been trying to fix all my problems myself. There is a lot I find that I am unhappy about within myself. As an avid list maker, I keep a running note on the attributes in my life that I need to work on. The list never seems to get any shorter, and before you know it, the stress of this overwhelming list starts to swallow me whole.  Part of the issue is that I truly believe in personal responsibility. I believe we have the power to choose joy and to work hard toward reaching our goals. I don’t like the idea of expecting anyone else to take on my problems or give of themselves to make my life easier. The idea that I might be inconveniencing someone horrifies me. I would be completely embarrassed if I thought in any way, shape, or form; my lack of ability was “putting someone out.” Just thinking about it makes me uncomfortable.

So, laying my burdens on Christ is honestly the last thing I would think to do, which is completely odd, since he clearly asks that of us. Ironically enough, when I refuse to relenquish my worries, what I’m really doing is missing out on the joy of the moment. It’s a total lose/lose situation. I feel like I NEED to make things happen. I NEED to make my next life decision. I NEED to know exactly where I will be one week, one month, one year from now. And even more than that, I NEED to make the RIGHT choice. I’ve been wrong before. It hurt. I don’t want to be wrong again. If I’m good enough, if I work hard enough, if I do all the RIGHT things; then I can save myself from future hurt.

Don’t you just know that God is up there going, “Katherine, look around you. Look at the blessings I’m giving you.” I love my job. I love it so much it’s almost not fair. Currently, I work with some of the most amazing people whom I respect oh so very much. What a blessing! How sad would it be if I worried so much about what I wasn’t, that I missed out on the amazing things that I am right now. The reality is that when I look in the mirror I still see a failure in many ways. My list of failures is way too long to include in one blog post, but I also have certain aspects of my life to be proud of. The top of that list, with a star next to it, is my personal relationship with Jesus Christ. Why then, if I feel that my relationship with Christ is solid, do I continually give into fear?

I continually say “Lord, I am yours. I will follow your lead.” But do I really mean it? Where is the line between preparing for rain and trusting that the rain will come? This is obviously a skill that I have not yet mastered. God certainly knows the desires of my heart. He knows my burdens. He carries my worries. He is there when I am frightened and sad and insecure. He is holding me in my uncertainly. He is laying a path before me. I know in my heart that this is true, but my head still screams that I must blaze a trail on my own. It’s a constant, exhausting struggle. The need to be RIGHT. The need to have it all mapped out. The need to be in control. The desire to make that list I have of all my wrongs get shorter.

I know most of this stems from the fact that I thought I did have it all figured out. I assumed I had made perfect choices.  I could see the path of my future and all the pieces were falling into place as expected. I had made all the RIGHT moves. How do you begin to trust yourself again when what you knew in your gut was right, turns out to be wrong? When you became an inconvenience to the one person who wasn’t supposed to dessert you? When, instead of a joy, you turned into an unwanted obligation?

Yes, I know where my fear come from. But I also know where my joy comes from. My joy is found in Jesus Christ. He is the RIGHT choice. Always. And as soon as I can learn to lay my burdens on him, I might see my list grow a little smaller.

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.”

I’m a pretty naive girl. I always have been. I’ve known this about myself for a long time, and this attribute has never bothered me. It’s helped me never jump to the worst case scenario, it’s helped me discover new and wonderful things in a childlike way, and it’s given me a heart that believes in the beauty of the world. It does, however, bother me when others mistake my naivite for stupidity. I am not stupid. I have never been stupid. I’m fully aware of why I make the choices I make, and none of those choices come from a lack of knowledge. They don’t come from a place of ignorance. They are not brought on by my inability to comprehend my surroundings.

So, when I decided to bring my husband to this wedding, I had a pretty solid idea of what kind of behavior I was in store for. I assumed he would be distant and agitated. It crossed my mind that he might drink too much. I even had my argument prepared in case he wanted to leave early. To his credit, he got ready and we were on the tram headed to the wedding site right on time. He sat next to me during the ceremony. He paid attention. He even pretended not to notice all the sympathetic looks my friends who knew about our current situation were giving me. He didn’t take my hand or kiss me or offer to help with my wrap, but that was fine. We were doing ok. We looked normal. And when I cried, I was able to pass it off as happy tears for my beautiful friend instead of desperate tears for the loss of the love I craved so deeply.

After the ceremony, we chatted with other guests and found our table in the reception hall. We were sitting with another couple we knew who were engaged, a good friend of ours who had been at our wedding, and her brother. Everyone at the table knew about our problems. They were all onboard to pretend that nothing was wrong. We were all doing ok. I was thrilled. For a moment I actually let myself relax. I turned to my husband and asked him how he enjoyed the ceremony. He said, “I kept thinking as I was watching them say their vows, that they truly loved each other. I don’t remember feeling anything when I said my vows to you. I should have felt something, but I felt nothing.” And then, as had become customary, I began doggie paddling again, just trying to keep myself above water. Refusing to let myself sink into the despair that was starting to swallow me whole. By now I had learned to shake it off. Feel later. Just keep moving. Don’t focus on the pain. Of course, he punctuated his statement with his all too familiar, “We never should have gotten married.” This had become his battle cry. I was becoming immune to it’s sting.

The rest of his behavior almost doesn’t matter.  I’ve gone back and forth over the last week agonizing on whether to tell the entire story of this particular weekend or not. In the end, I’ve come to the conclusion that I must be honest, but I can also be brief. Yes, he was distant and agitated. Yes, he did drink too much. Way too much. He embarrassed himself by hitting on a group of girls at a different table. He refused to wait on the tram to take us back to our hotel, instead he wanted to get in the car with those girls and hang out with them. He was annoyed when I insisted on going along with them. He got angry when I made him go back to our hotel room with me, his wife. I killed his party. I got him to bed. I was numb. I’d taught myself how to survive this new life. It wasn’t ideal, but I was ok. I took off my pretty dress, wiped off my perfect make up, put away my jewelry; and stared down at the man who married me, but who felt nothing.

What I had hoped would happen, did not happen. He did not suddenly remember the joy of our wedding day. He did not turn to me with tears in his eyes realizing that he loved me again. He did not tell me how beautiful I was and how proud he was that I was his wife. But hoping for these things did not make me stupid. Putting up with his behavior did not make me stupid. Knowing that even after this, I would continue to love him and fight for him did not make me stupid. It meant I was his wife. And although watching our friend’s heartfelt wedding ceremony may not have made him feel what I wanted, it was a reminder to me of the promises I made to him and to God. As long as I was doing my very best to fulfill those promises, I was ok.

Yes, I am a naive woman. I believe in second chances. I believe in paying it forward. I believe that although we tend to hear more about the bad in the world, the reality is that there truly is more good. I believe in holding onto people, because people matter. I believe that humans need to know they are loved. I believe kindness makes a difference. Some may say that I was stupid to behave this way. I’m obviously divorced, so my actions didn’t pay off. But it’s never stupid to chose hope. It’s never stupid to remain faithful to your promises to God. And if getting up every morning and choosing to believe things will be better is naive, then I’m ok with that.

1 Corinthians 2:9 “Eye has not seen, nor ear heard, not have entered into the heart of man the things which God has prepared for those who love Him.”

5 years ago today I got engaged. It’s really an incredible story. I was out of town on an acting job and my ex-husband flew in without me knowing and proposed to me onstage at the end of my show. He also flew in two of our friends to videotape the whole thing so that we could have that special memory forever. I was surprised and thrilled. I had known I wanted to be his wife from the beginning of our relationship. We had been together over 4 years and every part of me knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him. I had imagined how and when and where he would propose in my head over and over again and it was finally happening. Everything felt right in my world. It was all falling into place. There was no one in the world as happy as I was at this very moment. The joy was overwhelming. I was his!

I’ll never forget his getting down on one knee. I’ll never forget the words he said. I still remember every one of them. I’ll never forget his face and that feeling your heart gets when you think it’s going to burst because you are so happy, you can’t believe this is actually your life. That this wonderful human chose you to be his forever. That every morning you get to wake up to the blessed assurance that you are loved by the one you love the most. It’s a beautiful feeling. It’s pure and real and honest and a true gift. My precious little heart was so full.

All this doesn’t change the fact that “it didn’t work out.” It doesn’t change the judgements of those who will always think “if they’d only tried harder…”. It won’t silence the feelings of hypocrites who believe “they would never let this happen to their marriage.” The long and hard truth of the matter is you don’t know how you would handle a divorce unless you’ve gone through one. Yes, I had a beautiful proposal. Yes, I truly believe that at one point in time my ex-husband did love me in the best way he knew how. Yes, I am now divorced…and yes, I fought with every fiber of my being and every ounce of will that I had to save our marriage from divorce. I own that.

And since it has happened I’ve looked at it as a personal failure. I don’t need other humans to remind me of my shortcomings, because I count them every day. My divorce. My failure. My guilt. A joy and gift that I once had that I lost. A perfect union that was entrusted to me, but I couldn’t hack it. My friend Jake hates it when I call it MY failure. But I still feel like it is. It took the both of us to get engaged on that miraculous day 5 years ago and it took both of us to end that covenant 4 years later. Maybe not my fault, but it still feels like my failure.

There is a divine point where we can turn our hearts to heaven and accept God’s forgiveness for these failings we have in life. We can let his mercy wash over us and revel in the knowledge that we were forgiven before we even asked for forgiveness. That his grace is beyond sufficient. And time and time again, I look back on that day where everything seemed so right and wonder where I went wrong. What could I have done? Where should I have gone? How long will I own the defeat of my marriage?

And I don’t know what the answer is. I feel my shame, yet I know God still loves me just as I am. I own my choices, but I know I serve a God who created me with a specific plan and purpose. I accept my circumstances, but praise the God who continues to give me more than I deserve. So I sit, sad that this isn’t the anniversary of the happy day I envisioned. Depressed that we are not acknowledging the special memory  we were supposed to celebrate for the rest of our lives. Torn that although divorce was the right choice, it was not the choice I wanted to make. All these emotions that add up to failure…and still, working every day to accept the glorious fact that to my savior, I am not a failure. I am simply, his.

1 John 4:4 “But you belong to God, my dear children. You have already won a victory over those people, because the Spirit who lives in you is greater than the spirit who lives in the world.”