This weekend at church, I accepted prayer... Lots of prayer. Prayer for healing my shattered heart among other things.
Following, I have had such a sense of relief in my burdens. I have felt peace like I haven't in quite some time, and my focus has gone less from my pain and struggles and more toward other things.
Tonight, as I prayed, which is something I am trying to improve upon, I broke down weeping. I wept not because of my future ex-husband, but FOR him.
For him... Because I realized, again, that I still love him. No, not romantic love, but the difficult love that God calls us to have for those the world justifies that we should hate.
I wept for him because, despite all the reasons I could be justified to hate him and wish damnation upon him, my heart cares about his soul and his salvation.
Because even though he's shattered my heart, I still have that glimmer of hope that he will someday draw near to God. Maybe he won't restore his relationship with his children in this lifetime, but I am working hard to raise children of God that will spend an eternity in heaven, and I cannot help but hope that their dad can make it to heaven, too.
...Because it's the right thing to hope for, I think. I can't imagine not hoping for a miracle. I cannot help but hope he will find God, cast away the dark and wrong paths he has chosen, and follow God down the right road. I cannot help but pray he will be saved.
I know that is likely going to be seen as wildly unpopular, but truthfully, it doesn't bother me. The world can think I am crazy, but God has sustained that glimmer of hope, that shred of faith, and tonight, it just tore my heart right up.