The
death of a dream.
So
there I was now or soon to be; single with two babies, no job, bills to pay,
and a house that was falling apart. My faith my life and my church had
not prepared me for this. I was in shock, depressed, stressed, defeated,
and lost. My dream, the only dream that I had ever had in my deepest
heart had been to be married and have a family. But I had lost the fight
to keep my marriage alive. I had been defeated. I think that this
was the first time in my life that I had come to the realization that I was not
in control. All of who I had ever thought I was had been stripped from
the core of me, leaving me bare, naked, exposed, raw, and bleeding. All
of my life's desire had been ripped from my heart and torn from my life leaving
nothing worthwhile behind. At least that was how it seemed at the time.
My
dream was dead.
Life
was now a matter of going through the motions. My heart had been removed
and only the shell of me was left to pick up the pieces. There were no
friends, no church, no family, no one anywhere that could or would help
me. I was alone. I don’t know how but life did go on, day by day by
day, hour by hour by hour, moment by moment by moment. My mind was in a
fog and I have no idea how I got a job, took care of my children or did all of
the other day to day things that had to be done. Much of that time period
in my life I have forgotten or pushed into that deep abyss in my mind and heart
that holds my greatest fears, deepest hurts, and greatest losses. That
place was already overflowing and now as I had always feared it was about to
burst open and spew out all of the ugliness that I had been trying to hide
there. I could no longer hold back the force of it all. My will was
broken and my strength gone.
It
happened one evening when I was working, as a waitress again, trying to
continue on with life. But I didn’t even know why. I was depressed,
beyond suicidal, so numb and uncaring that even my precious children mattered
little to nothing to me. It was at this time that I gave up. My
pain was so deep that I could no longer face anything and everything in me was
shutting down. I had no will left, I could not even speak any more. I was
completely broken.
They
called Scott, the only contact that I had there. My husband, or soon to
be ex (I can’t remember which it was at that point) was, fortunately for me, a
psych nurse. He was not an unkind person and he did have compassion for
me. So he came and because of him I was not locked away with the rest of
societies throw-aways. That would have truly been hell.
Looking
back I shudder at the thought of how close I had come to being put into that
place. Even now recalling that trauma the pain floods over me afresh and
I type through the veil of tears that memory evokes. There are no words
that can describe that kind of despair, pain, loneliness, and hopelessness.
It
was a long road back to sanity. They say that a depression that deep is
not dangerous until one begins to recover and comes up to the level of caring
again. Then is when suicide watch is needed. I passed through those
days as well not because of healing and not because of anyone's care for me,
not even my own. Time is NOT a healer, these things are as real to me
today as they were 30 years ago. The pain is still just as fresh and
palpable. I can only go there because of the healing of God. It is
His love and nothing else that could ever begin to reach the depth of my need
at that time. There was no church, there were no people, no governmental
intervention, no physician, no one and nothing there to get me through
it. Only God. He was the last spark left in me and He is why I am
alive today. He is why I am able to live and serve and move. I have
no idea how He did it because I did not participate in that healing
initially. It has occurred over many years and through many more battles
fought and won with His help.
Learning
to live without a dream was hollow. I was tempted to fall back in the old
way I lived before I knew Jesus. But I knew that there was much pain
there also. I could only walk one step at a time towards the promise that
He had given me. I did not feel it. I did not even want it most of
the time. I simply functioned most of the time. Like I said I do
not recall much of those years. Somehow God (with a little help from me)
was able to take care of my children and they have grown up to be followers of
Christ. They would be able to tell more about that time than I
could. But there are a few real moments of it that were so impactful that
they remain in my memory. One of those was the peanut butter jar lid
incident.
I
had gone back to school and was working at the same time. I had moved and
was buying the house we lived in. There was progress and purpose in my
life. I had found a church and was active in it. I was part of the
praise and worship team, a soloist and song leader. There was not a
service that I missed and I had friends that cared about me. life had
found equilibrium for me and my children. I guess it was about 2 years
after the divorce that I was going to make a sandwitch for my son and I could
not open the lid of the peanut butter jar. I am a physically strong woman
and I am stubburn, (more than most people my daughter would say more than
anyone else she knows). So I worked on that lid for a long time and the
more I worked on it the more I began to feel those feelings again of being
alone. I broke again. I must have sat on the floor in the kitchen
for hours crying and sobbing over that lid. Of course it was not really
the lid. It was that once again I realized that there was no one to hand
that jar to and ask for help to open it. There was no daddy to dance with
my daughter, no father to teach my son how to be a man. There was no
husband, no companion, no lover, no best friend to spend my time with and grow
old with to enjoy our golden years with.
It
was like he had died, but more cruel in my mind because every two weeks I had
to watch as he scooped up our children and took them away to treat them to
goodies and have a weekend of fun and games with. I had to answer the
phone when he called and had to deal with our financial arrangements for our
children's care. Constant reminders of my failure and loss. Ever
present and though the feelings I had once had for him were not the same the
loss of being able to give love and feel loved came to my door and looked me in
the eyes.
He
had changed also, I could see it in him too but we did not speak of it.
It was over and finished. He had remarried and was not happy either, but
there was no going back now.
This touches me. I think maybe MAYBE I’m not the only one this has
happened to …
And time doesn’t HEAL anything. God does, but you’re right. If you
allow yourself to go there, the pain is as fresh as the day it happened.
Have I ever told you why I left my husband? Everyone thinks it’s
because I was having an affair … which I was … but that was the mode of escape
that I used, not the reason.
My ex could tell me he loved me in one breath and how stupid I was
in the next…. Jokingly, of course … but a more selfish, self-centered little
boy, there never was, and I couldn’t see beyond my own love for him. He did not
want to share me with anyone – and that includes our children. So many times,
my baby was shoved in her room to keep her “out of the way”. As I grew
up, I learned so well to tune him out. When he started to rant and rave how the
world was so unfair to him, I would just go off in my mind and not hear him.
Well, moving to TN, around my folks, you can imagine the additional pressure I
was under, as my mom was not my ex’s favorite person with her mouth.
I can remember I was doing dishes in the kitchen after supper, and
I knew he was ranting and raving, but I wasn’t listening, until I became aware
that my Rachel was standing in the front doorway, her hand of the knob, looking
at me with tears streaming down her face, like screaming at me MOM DO YOU SEE
ME? And I heard Dennis calling her horrible things. Telling her she was nothing
but a pig. I think she was 10.
I had dreams of growing old with this man, sitting on a front porch
in a rocking chair. Now, I’m fighting to save another child that I refuse to
give up on.
One thing I know for sure. God does not waste pain, none of
it. If we allow Him to, He will heal us by our giving of ourselves to
others and reaching out to love the ones who are walking where we have
walked. Knowing this is hard, I tell it to you anyway. There is much
that He has given you, not the least of which is this huge capacity to
love. It is not time that heals my friend, it is only the love of our
God, when we receive it. I know this. I lose sight of it and fall
into the briar bushes sometimes, but I do find my way back to the right path
eventually. The wonderful thing is that while I’m in the briars I see
others there that are hurting like me and I get to reach out my hand and take
theirs and tell them the way out. It’s not my hand that reaches towards
you my friend, it’s the lover of our soul who does. Just let Him embrace
you and step one foot at a time towards His love.
I know it is easy to walk towards Him and embrace the teaching and
the peripheral things of Christ. It is quite another to allow Him to lay
open our chest and do the necessary heart surgery to heal the deep wounds and
scars that cover them. But nothing else will do. It is life and
death. I gave Him my heart to be replaced by His own, that was what the
surgery consisted of. The heart beating within me is no longer mine.
So whatever I have – have ever had – or will ever have is
His.
And with His perfect heart, I love you.
I love you.
He tells you with tender loving care that you are exactly who He
desired you to be.
You are who He loves. Just as you are.
Pain, brokenness, sins, wrong shameful choices, all of it.
It’s part of the plan, part of what you were created for.
Embrace all of you my precious.
Love is yours.
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