A Healed Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving is a big deal to my heart, and has been for a long time.  It's a family, love, and gratitude focused holiday that I've always adored.

Thanksgiving this year was a bigger deal than I realized.

A year ago at Thanksgiving, I was still married to a man who had gone MIA.  I was brokenhearted, on the verge of feeling defeat, feeling a bit like a failure, feeling lonely, feeling anxious, and feeling a bit out of place in my own world.

The children and I were invited to Thanksgiving dinner with our friends and some of their family.  I accepted, knowing that my friend knew my heart and emotional state quite well, knowing I would feel safe, and that my children would have fun.  Still, I was nervous, not knowing how the others at dinner would approach the fact that he was not with us this time, as he had been months before when we were over for Easter.  I was cautiously optimistic that no one would ask a single question or even mention his absence in our lives.  The day, as far as I remember, was wonderful, filled with joy and laughter, friends and great food.

But I missed him.  I felt like our family was incomplete in some way.  I came home that evening, without my kids, I believe, and cried as I realized I went the day without him and made it through.  I longed for the vision of life that I had thought we were creating.

I spent a little bit of time over the past few weeks in prayer, trying to prepare myself emotionally and mentally for what this year might be like, whether the children and I were home alone celebrating in solitary fashion, or if we were fortunate enough to be surrounded by people we cherish somewhere.  I knew in my heart I would be emotionally and mentally okay if we were going to be celebrating alone, although I hoped we wouldn't be.  It wouldn't have been devastating though, like I may have felt it would have last year.

This year, he's still missing, and I am divorced.  This year, we were invited to the same family home for Thanksgiving dinner.  I've not been feeling well, so I was a bit quiet this year amidst all the hustle and bustle, but I felt at home anyway.  My friend still knows me well, and I know her family accepts me and my children for who we are, as we are, how we are, even without him.

When the children and I arrived home tonight, they were all fast asleep in the van, and I sat there for a bit, realizing that it was my first Thanksgiving as a divorced, single mother.

I didn't cry.  I didn't even emotionally flinch.

I then realized that I didn't miss him at all today.

This year, he was mentioned.  We discussed how the son who used to look so much like him looks less like him this year, and how my other son looks much more like him now.  I talked about how some of their mannerisms are very much like their dad.  I mused over how my daughter doesn't have close attachments to men, except my friend's husband, my dad, my brother-in-law, and she's somewhat close to a co-worker and her uncles.  But she's never felt a relationship with a dad that she would remember, and it affects her, somewhat, I think.

I was even asked by one of the family members if I would ever consider remarriage or having children in the future if "the right guy" came along.  I didn't freak out or withdraw really, although I was completely taken aback, I didn't act like it.

I didn't cry.

I didn't miss him.  Not like I used to.  I mostly miss him on behalf of my kids, and I feel sorry for him missing out on them.

But I didn't hinder me.

It didn't overwhelm me.

It didn't cause me anxiousness or nervousness.  I didn't even think about him before going.  I didn't sit and wonder if anyone would ask about him or mention him or worry about how I would react if it happened.

That's a lot of healed wounds.

Thank you, Jesus.

If it weren't for the Cleansing Stream retreat less than a month ago, I am sure I would be in a different emotional state tonight.

But I'm okay.

The kids and I are okay.

I don't long for him to love us.  I don't feel like we are missing out on his love.  I know we are, realistically, but I don't feel that soul-crushing overwhelming longing that was there a year ago.

Because we don't need his love.  It would be nice, but it's not a necessity.

We have God's love, first and foremost, and because of His love, we are loved deeply by many others.  It's obvious to me that we are loved more deeply by others in our lives than we could be by him at this point anyway.  My children are lacking their dad, but they're not lacking their Father's love; they're not lacking love at all.  Today, they were surrounded by love, like they are every day.

Easter, Thanksgiving, and Christmas, to me, are especially important emotional holidays.  They flood my heart with appreciation for God, family, friends, love, memories, laughter, and companionship.

For the last 15 years, up until this year, a huge portion of all of those holidays were invested in him- even the last two, when we was sort of here and then not here at all.

This year, that chain is broken.

This year, I see so much more clearly the love that we are showered with.  I saw it last year through clouded lenses.  This year, it's more real.

I can see so much more clearly this year that I am not alone.  I wondered a few days ago, while the enemy was after my mind, that I would be alone eternally, spending holidays without adult cameraderie, huddled up with my children, forgotten by the world, because I was just a pity case or that people were sick of the burden I am, wishing for interaction aside from only children (I know that sounds horrible, and I love my children dearly, so please don't assume I hate spending time with them).

But that's just crazy. I have family, and friends that are family, and friends beyond that who love us so much.

I am not alone.  We are not alone.  And God wouldn't allow us to go through this life alone anyway.  I get reminded of that on the regular.  Sometimes, I just get in my own way of seeing it.

Thank you to the many friends and family who have sent me messages of love, empowerment, gratitude, prayer, and blessings.  Your love is deeply felt and appreciated more than I find myself able to express at this time.

Littered Dates

The months of March and April are littered with dates that pack so much significance. Many, I often wish I could forget.

There are some wonderful dates of course, some family birthdates, including my daughter's. But even that brings a pain to my heart to reflect on. 

That date hurts, because her father was hardly present for much of my pregnancy, and even though he was there for her birth... I realize looking back, he wasn't really present.   In fact, he was halfway across the room just moments before she was born and almost missed it.  

Then he was there, for a while, sort of, off and on, for months.

And then he wasn't.  And I spent months and months wondering, fighting, trying all I could to figure it out, get it back, move on, etc.

A year ago today, I decided it must actually be over, and I knew deep down I should look into a divorce, because he was just stringing me along and he wasn't going to do it himself.  It took me quite a few days, until I finally met with my caseworker at the transitional housing/homeless shelter we were living at and told her my decision.   That was March 18.

On March 21, he showed up right outside our housing before the kids and I had to be inside for bed.  He seemed different, and told me he wanted to try and reconcile the family.  I was blown away.   The next day, I met with him, without the kids, and he confessed his many wrongs that he had done against me and our marriage.  There were dark secrets, huge mistakes, and shocking facts.  But he told me he hit rock bottom, explained when and how and the person he met and talked to that made him realize his huge mistakes and how badly he wanted and needed his family back.  He asked for my forgiveness, and I gave it to him. I told him my terms for trying to mend things and how it was going to be difficult, intense work.  He told me he was all in.

Easter happened on April 5 last year, Easter has always been one of my favorite holidays.  We were given the opportunity to spend it at a friend's house, together.  I didn't know it at the time, but it would be the last real holiday we spent together.

Our daughter's due date came, which was the date we set for her first birthday party.  He showed, but he was incredibly late, and it took near begging to get him to actually arrive.  He left quickly, secretively, and in a hurry, and did not return like he promised he would.

Her birthday was April 15.  We met up with him for what would be the last birthday the children spent with him.  He agreed to meet us at the mall for cake and play time.  He stayed possibly an hour and then had to hurry off.

The very next day, while I was at work, I was contacted by a man I had never heard of, nor met, asking how to reach him.  I asked this guy how he knew my husband. He said he was his boyfriend of a month.  I felt the earth shatter below me, my heart crumble, and my throat close off.  I trembled, lightheaded, thinking I may pass out.  When I was given a chance, I ran to the bathroom without a word, where I fell apart, sobbing in a stall.

I confronted him.  He told me he wasn't dating this man, and that they were friends, and the guy was obviously just trying to make a mess of our marriage now that we were trying to reconcile.  I met him on April 18th, my youngest sister's birthday,where he gave me a much more detailed explanation and his plan as to how he would prove that it wasn't true and he was wholeheartedly trying to stay married and get his kids back.  He swore to me he wouldn't talk to this guy again.

I decided to try to believe him, but I was incredibly reserved because his story and plan seemed suspicious.

It's a year later, and all of these "anniversary" dates are coming up.  I try not to think of them, but somehow they're embedded inside my heart. They're like a bad tattoo scar that's trying to heal.  I know that they may always be there, but I pray that they will fade, peacefully and quickly.

My heart and mind have always operated in this fashion.  I try not to dwell on dates, but dates are important in our society and when I see them on the date that big events happen, I remember them.  I always have.  And when each year passes, the memories flash back in movie fashion, and I try to fast forward through them so I can move onto what coming up next.  But it isn't always easy.

I don't write this to air our "laundry," but rather to process it myself, and to be able to hopefully prepare my heart and my mind for the days ahead.  Often, when I get things out through my blog, it is therapeutic in that way, and I am much less likely to be blindsided by potent emotions.

I guess we will see.

Each year will be easier, I know, from experiences in the past.  I will try to enjoy Easter this year without too many flashbacks, as well as our daughter's second birthday.  They're two of the greatest dates littered amongst the many.

As I know from experience, also, God is on my side, and when my legs give out and my tears cloud my eyes, He will pick me right up and carry me through.

Twelve... Thirteen...

And, once again, it's New Year's Eve.

Like the past few years in a row, I have nothing special planned. We don't have tv channels, so we won't be watching the ball drop. No fireworks.

I'm hoping Jake will be home from work before midnight and the two of us can calmly and quietly ring in the New Year, sitting in the living room, wishing Collin to sleep. Maybe we will have a glass of wine or two.

I remember years past being so excited about the change of the calendar year. Now, I am not so sure why. The numbers are so arbitrary and mean nothing to me really other than for record keeping.

I don't have New Year's resolutions. I find it silly to wait until the first day of a new year to make changes in one's life. I understand why some do it, but I don't really feel the urge to operate that way.

But, over the past months and weeks, I have come up with some changes I would like to and have been working on for myself. I want to pray more. Worry less. Sleep more. Organize more.

Create more.

That is my favorite change in lifestyle. I have been working for a best friend cutting fabric for her. She has her own business. It's been an honor and a pleasure. She also loaned me her old sewing machine. I used it to create Christmas stockings for the four if us. That is what inspired my urge to create more. Creation for me will not be confined to sewing (though I will be starting on a quilt for my sister shortly), but include other forms such as poetry, prose, handwritten journal letters to my friend Desi, drawings, crafts, photography, graphics, food...

I love to create.

The past year was wonderful, having Collin join the family, and moving out of our former wretched duplex rental to a single family home rental, with quite a large hardship in the middle bringing us closer together as a family. Ups and downs, like every year in the past and I am sure every year to come. I look forward to the next calendar year and what is has in store of course, but as I said, time is fluid, continuing always, and the change in number doesn't mean much as far as my life experiences go (except for things like taxes, haha).

Regardless of how big a deal it is to you, or even how little it may mean, Happy New Year, everyone.