Something inside me died today. It was a hope that I'd fostered. I went to the lawyer and got my packet. Went to Dad's. Talked through some things. My throat tightened. I struggled to hold back the tears. I said good bye quite quickly, got in the car, turned it on, pulled out of the driveway and... cried. For the next 2 1/2 hours, I cried. My eyes have never been so swollen. I almost called in to work. I didn't think I'd make it. I sent out some txts, some emails, some facebook messages. Needed some prayer. Put a cold washcloth over my eyes and laid down a while. Got up and journaled my thoughts. Cried some more. Got a call from a friend and I could barely speak at first. He was patient and I pulled myself together enough to talk and get dressed and drive to work.
The Lord provides and tonight He provided me with an "offstage day". Completely unplanned. My boss gave me the night to pull my thoughts together about some things at work and to get a ton of paperwork done. She had no idea how incredibly, crazily perfect that was for me tonight. Randomly, I went in the back of the office and cried a couple more times. Got a couple emails from friends that I read on my lunch. They were my old college roommates, currently spread out all over the country but still loving me and praying for me and saying all the right things. I love them and miss them. I talked to my friend at work. She made me laugh and she asked funny questions and helped me process even more. After work, I called my oldest friend. She was quiet and let me talk. She invited me out to Emporia. Said I could crawl under her blanket and cry any time I wanted. I wish she wasn't so far away.
I say all this to say that there is finality in that sheet of paper and there was a hope in all of this that is dead. I'm not done mourning it, I know that. I will have many more nights I'll be sleeping alone to get through. I need to be okay with that. I need to be okay with being newly "for real" single. For the first time in 10 years. No longer half of a whole. I need to be whole myself. For the record, I'm sure that's why God hates divorce. When the two become one, it's hard to become two again.
And I also say all this to say that God is constantly showing me that when he takes something away, He replaces it with something better. That I can't fear the losses that loom before me. That I can't fear the changes I don't quite trust yet. On the first conversation of the day, during my drive to work, my friend referenced his and my conversation from last Wednesday. Our conversation about God. About trust. About my future. He asked me if I really trusted God in all this. "And not in a cliche Christian way, but in a real way," he said.
I told him I thought so. Enough to start thinking and praying about my future. Enough to pray for Jered and his future. Enough to pray about my losses. About forgiveness. About letting go. About taking this pain from me. About providing what to fill that hole with.
I don't want to start over again, I kept telling him. It takes too much energy. It takes too much time.
But it's not about starting over again, one of my roommates had emailed. It's about starting a new chapter. It's something exciting that's before you.
The world is wide open to you, my dad said this morning. And you are a phoenix rising from the ashes.
And I really do have the best friends. Over and over again: I am loved and cared for. I am thought of. Loved. Prayed for. Loved dearly. Dearly, deeply, and always loved.
How silly I was to think God would really make me do this alone.
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