This Place I Am In...Part II

This has been a week!   First God lead me to this place called Forgiveness; and instead of pushing me to forgive others, He showed me where I needed to forgive myself.  I was shocked to find that I’d delayed my own progression, but still I forgave me, with some prodding.
 
Forgiving myself wasn’t the hardest part, truly seeing myself was.  Once I realized how messed up I was because of self hatred, I knew my next step was to allow God to clean me up.  Humph, very difficult task to undergo!  I’d practiced so long and hard at not being great, and not being successful, and not being happy that I didn’t even know how or where to start the “change process”. 

Well, it didn’t take long before God took the matter of showing me where to start into his own hands.  He started with my mother. 

My mother returned from her vacation in Alaska just days before God stopped me in the place I am in.  My mom and I have always had an on again, off again love relationship.  Some years we were like best friends.  Other years we were like two ships in the night-- sounding our alarms and shinning our super bright lights to warn each other to keep a good distance a part in order to avoid collision. 

I am a lot like my mom in many ways.  For example, I am outspoken when it comes to my feelings and beliefs, I’m strong willed, and I can be quick and harsh with my words.  Don’t misunderstand me, my mom and I both have very good and positive attributes, also.  However, for this blog, the characteristics I’ve just listed help me get my point across.  To be frank, this season of my life, Mom and I have done nothing but bump heads.  (And I have a hard head!)

Shortly after God opened my eyes to me (like one day after), my mom started ruffling my feathers, like only a mother can do.  Throughout the week, she only seemed to aggravate me more and more.  It finally came to a head.  We exchanged harsh words.  (I wished she was still on vacation, anywhere, away from me!)

Here I am trying to swallow the ugliness of myself, and my mother is picking at my wound…just what I needed, right?  (I know I picked at a few of her scars, too.)

I was at my wits end.  I wanted to give up.  I wanted to walk away from our relationship until another season.  That same ole “give-up” spirit wanted me to just cut the cords.  I almost did.  But my sister is in town.  She is my best friend.  To walk away from Mama now, meant giving up time with my sister.  (The three of us usually do things together.)  God allowed it to be that during this rough patch between Mama and me, there was something that I didn’t want to walk away from.  God made it so that “giving up” wasn’t easy. 

So what was left to do, but pray?  This is how God taught two lessons at once on forgiveness.

Friday night I lay in the bed praying about the situation.  Once again, I was shown me…

I am a tough mother (just like Mary, my mother).  And like my mother, I have a child who is a lot like me.  You remember the list?  Outspoken, strong willed, etc.  Therefore, my daughter and I (yep, she’s only six) often tussle (not physically, of course).  Anyway, God dealt with my willingness to walk away too easily (even from the ones I love the most) by showing me how my daughter, Chandler, was being taught (by me) to have the same weakness.  The way I deal with relationships would probably be how she deals with relationships as an adult.  What a blow!

I love my kids more than anything in this world!  Chandler is really special to me because she’s my little girl.  She’s fun-loving, compassionate, smart and funny.  The last thing I want for her is harm.  I am her role model.  But maybe I am not being such a good model? I have to let her see God’s perfection through me.  This way she has better chances at living a “whole” life.  Work on me, Lord!

My lesson was to surrender the “give-up” spirit, the just walk away attitude, and the sabotage it before it hurts too badly philosophy (not only for my future, but for my children’s futures).

There was another lesson to be learned here, though.  I had to forgive my mother.  God brought to my mind the scripture from I Corinthians, chapter 13 on love.  (Not this again!  My spirit had been bombarded with living this scripture during the last year of my marriage.  I only did okay, at times, with it then.)  So again, here I am at LOVE:  is patient, kind, never jealous, boastful, proud , or rude; isn’t selfish, quick tempered; doesn’t keep record of wrong; rejoices in truth, not evil; is always supportive, loyal, hopeful, and trusting; love never fails!

After meditating on that scripture, I realize that the problem between my mom and me is me…

I asked my mom to read my blog before I published it.  I never imagined that God would use something as simple as my writing to open a conversation about our relationship.  What God revealed through this conversation is and will be monumental in the “changing” of our dealings with each other and our understanding of one another.  We discussed a lot of things.  One thing that she made clear is that no matter what, she is my mother and she will always love and root for me.  I knew this, but somehow I allowed my idiosyncrasies to disregard these facts.  We don’t and won’t always see eye to eye, but she still deserves my respect and love, the I Corinthian’s kind of love, no matter what.  If I respect my mom we won’t bump heads!  And if I love (period), well, all problems solved!

It is obvious that that I don’t owe forgiveness only to Mama, but to many others that I’d given up on and refused to love (despite what offense I believed they dealt me).  What a lesson…So here goes:  I forgive myself!  I forgive You!  And I ask that you please forgive me for my wrongs to you! From now on, I am working towards loving you and myself God’s way.  So our offenses should be far and in-between in the very near future.

Now, Lord, can I leave this place?

This has been Melva’s TRUTH.

Remember:  I am not the good news—Jesus is!

**One Day I’ll Tell My Kids   Entry #5

Dear Chandler and Cameron,

In so many ways both of you are so much like me.  And like most mothers, I want you to be better than me in every way.  I want to preface this letter with an apology.  Though I have tried, I haven’t always taught by example.  I know that you have seen and heard things from me that don’t agree with God’s Word.  For these things I ask you to forgive me. 

It is weird, but even though I am 36 years old, in a way, I am growing up with you.  I am just learning some real life application lessons.  (Man, my hardships and their results make the Sunday School book’s life application section look like child’s play.)  Still, I thank God that I am learning these lessons now, while you are young.  My prayer is that you mimic my “change” more than you hold to the wrong things I have taught you through my actions and words in the past. 

Even at your tender ages, I know the situations and people that vex you.  I pray that as you mature in wisdom and understanding, you will be able to forgive those that hurt you, as well, as forgiving yourselves where and when you fall short.  Deal with people as God would lead you to deal with them—with love. 

One day, years down the road, I’ll be reminded of this week:  the week I chose to love.  And by then, I hope that I will be able to see in you both the fruit of my labor…

I love you more and more each day!

Love you much,

Mommy

 

 

This Place I Am In...

Okay, so here I am today.  I’m not at a crossroad; I’ve already chosen my path, and I am walking it.  It’s not as bumpy now as it has been, but it is definitely still an uphill battle.  I thank God for the rope He’s tied around my waist because when I am too weak to walk, he simply pulls me. 

Recently, I‘ve been pulled, although kicking and screaming, to a hard place.  God has stopped pulling and there is slack in the rope.  I think He intends for me to visit here awhile.  I don’t like this place.  It reeks of regret and pain, and people that I’ve learned to completely dismiss from my life.  This stop is Forgiveness. 

I’ve been to countless workshops (and even helped to lead a few) on forgiveness.  For the average person forgiveness is a tough topic.  People hurt us intentionally and unintentionally; they steal from us, cheat on us, and lie to us.  But yet, God requires us to forgive them. 

When you have a tough job to complete, you are usually instructed to get the easy stuff out of the way first.  Well, my first objective in this place was/is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do:  forgive myself. 

Forgiving someone doesn’t always mean that they did something wrong.  As I was revealed to Me (I hope you got that ) through God’s Self Examination Mirror, I realized that I have been upset with Me over things I have no or little control over. 

When I was five years old, my baby brother was born.  I remember wanting to be happy about his birth, but a jealousy so strong and controlling seeped in.  All I could see is how everyone’s affections shifted from me to him.  For years to come, I tortured him because I believed that I was not sweet enough, pretty enough, loving enough to be loved.  I thought something was wrong with me. 

This form of self-hatred grew within me, while outside of me, grew a wall that was invincible.  My confidence was ruined.  I wasn’t shy or anything like that, but I never believed I was truly capable of successfully completing a task or having a love that would last.  I learned to sabotage relationships and jobs before friends, boyfriends, family, or supervisors could realize that I was not perfect. 

Whew!  This revelation and its depths hurt.  Revealing it brought back a lot of pain.  You know, sometimes it seems easier to just hold on to the pain—it’s constant, and reassuring.  I’d become so accustomed to pain, that I didn’t even realize it lived with me.  I see that I’ve been angry at myself for not being perfect. 

Wait a minute, God, are you sure?  I can be a true slacker in most areas of my life.  (As a matter of fact, I’m ready to stop writing blogs because though I love it, I have so much fear and doubt about your (the reader’s) interest level, despite what I hear.  I’m ready to sabotage it before it fails, honestly!)  So why is PEPERFCTION my issue?  I mean, how?  I know I’m not perfect, thus my messy life…

It’s Monday morning now, just a couple of hours before it’s time to post and I’m sitting here in my special spot, waiting for words to come…still waiting…maybe I won’t post this week?...

Then God speaks very faintly:

You want to give up because you don’t believe I’ll come through for you.  You’ve learned not to believe in yourself; therefore, you won’t trust what I can do through you.  But I Am PERFECT!

I’m crying.  Because it is true.  I don’t believe I’m able, worthy, or worth it.  I have been a killer of my own dreams and God’s promises for me. 

Now to let it go…

Y’all, this is hard.  My pains and regrets stick to my bones.  They have become a part of me.  I am tired of hurting me, especially when I know I’ll never be perfect here on this earth. 

‘’I am your perfection!” God pulls on my heart’s harp strings.  The music stops the tears and causes somewhat of a calm in me. 

I know what I must do.  I must forgive Me.  Realize that alone, I’m not able, worthy, or worth it.  But with God I can be…I mean, I am!

Take a deep breath and release…I FORGIVE MELVA!

There is still slack in the rope around my waist.  I know there’s more to explore…

This has been Melva’s TRUTH.

Remember:  I am not the good news—Jesus is!

**One Day I’ll Tell My Kids   Entry #4

Dear Cameron,

As I write you this letter, I am still amazed about what God has revealed to me about me:  I am not perfect and will not be perfect in this life, but God is my perfection!  That’s a big dose of medicine for your mama.

My thoughts now fall on you, my beautiful boy who was born into this world with so many challenges facing you.  For a long time, I blamed myself for your struggles. I thought I was the reason you suffered in so many ways—my failure to carry you to term, my failure to be a good mother.  Today, I know better.  Regardless, of God’s reasons for your early birth, or for all the trials you have gone through and still go through, I have always pushed you to be the best boy (not the best handicapped boy) you could possibly be.  I’ve always seen your potential.  I guess that’s the mom in me—I see you through God’s eyes. 

Don’t ever regret your struggles; they are just reasons for you to look to God and depend on Him.  When people look at you, they may not see “perfection”.  They may see a slight limp, notice your battle scars, or hear a difference in your speech.  You alone, are not perfect!  Neither am I (although our struggles are completely different).  You weren’t made to be…we weren’t made to be perfect.  We were made to depend on Jesus Christ for our perfection. 

Don’t ever look at yourself and think that you are not able, worthy, or worth it because you are!  And I knew that the day that you were born.  I’ve seen so much growth in you through the years.  You are a fighter, a learner, a fixer, and a teacher (you have taught me so much).  You make your mama so proud!  I love you my “perfect” baby! 

Let God be your perfection…

Love you much,

Mommy

 

Not Another Baby!

Palm Sunday—a day the “church” celebrates the preparation of Christ’s coming crucifixion.  I have always enjoyed this day of worship.  I love receiving the palm branches during service and waving them in celebration of Jesus’ journey to the cross.  I wave my palm branch and imagine Jesus walking down the aisle.  I feel so honored to be in the presence of the King that would redeem me forever. 

Palm Sunday 2013 was anything but celebratory.  I was so sick that I couldn’t make it to Sunday’s service.  I lay in the bed feeling miserable.  My stomach would not settle.  I recall thinking, “Not another virus!”  (During the past weeks, I’d had many stomach issues that I thought were viral.) I didn’t get much rest that morning because I had my two little people home with me, and as usual, after church hours, they were ready to go to Grandma and PaPa’s house for dinner.  I forced myself out of the bed.  I was so tired.  I got us ready, and off to my parents’ house we went. 

In my mind, something just wasn’t right.  I’d been so tired and lethargic.  At first I thought it was a passing thing, something I just needed to rest off.  Well, I’d had a lot of rest, but I felt horrible, still.  Could I be pregnant?  No way!  My boyfriend and I were working so hard at dating God’s way (meaning we were trying not to have sex).  Yeah, we’d failed the test before, but my goodness, we were really trying!  I couldn’t be pregnant!  No, I wasn’t on birth control and no, we hadn’t used protection the last time we were together.  (Stupid, I know! But it was only because our intimacy wasn’t planned or expected).  Pregnant…no not me! That wouldn’t be fair.  Lord, I was trying…didn’t that count for anything?

I slipped out of my parent’s house to CVS’ Pharmacy. I stealthily moved around looking for the area the pregnancy tests were placed.  They were oh so appropriately placed at the end of an aisle right in front of the pharmacy counter where all could see what I was checking out.  I chose my apparatus.  I hurriedly moved to the front of the store to pay, hoping to quickly get out without being seen.  I was the only one at the register.  Good.  The clerk was moving slowly.  “Oh, girl, yeah you better check if you pregnant!” she exclaimed.  “Yeah, I just found out I’m pregnant.  Girl, I just cried and cried…”  She rambled on for what seemed an eternity.  While rambling, of course, another customer came up to the counter and I am sure she was listening.  Embarrassed, I mumbled, “I’m getting these tests for my friend.”  Finally, I got out, with my two pregnancy tests in tote. 

At home, in the bathroom, I did my thing:  I peed on the stick.  Then I waited and prayed.  I’d taken pregnancy tests before when I was married.  Then, the waiting was exciting; but this time it was a very different experience. 

A plus sign-- I was, well you know, pregnant! 

I didn’t cry at all.  Maybe at that moment I was in shock, I’m not sure.  Even thinking back now, I realize that the tears never came.  I never cried even though I was absolutely, one hundred percent devastated. I did not want to be pregnant!

I called my sister.  At first, I am sure that she was totally in disbelief, too, but one of us had to have a clear mind about my situation.  So she put on her big sister hat and started to assure me, to no avail, that it would be alright.  She asked me what my next step was going to be.  My next step?  I didn’t want to move.  I wished I could just simply disappear.  What was I going to do?  I was divorced and single with two babies.   I was still learning to be a mother to my five and six year olds, and now this!  Ughhh! What was going to be my next step?

My answer was abortion. 

I never believed in aborting a baby, but I was also never so ill-prepared to have a baby.  The biggest thing for me was the fact that I wasn’t married.  It’s one thing to sin (have sex out of marriage), but it’s another beast when because of sin you have to walk around with the evidence of your sin in plain sight for nine months.  Oh, the consequences of sin…I started to make plans to get rid of my baby at an out-of-state clinic.  In my heart, I did not want another child, but was I strong enough to kill this one inside of me and live with the regret forever.  I knew lots of women who’d done it.  Several of these women were very close to me.  Although it had been years since they visited the clinic, they still lived with the loss of their unplanned or unwanted babies.  Could I do it?

What had happened to me?  This person who was toiling with the idea of pregnancy was not me.  I mean, not just because I was pregnant, but almost everything about me had strayed so far away from the Melva of several years ago.  I was lost—and maybe for the first time, I realized how far out at sea I’d drifted.  (Did I tell you that I was not a good swimmer?)  I knew I needed help.  My sin had pushed many of my stronger supporters away.  For example, my parents were so put out with me that our relationship was strained.  Shame kept me from reaching out to two mothers (they were my friends) from my church in Louisiana.  I couldn’t imagine sharing my mess with them.  They would be so disappointed…

I was angry with myself, the baby’s daddy and maybe…should I admit it?...God.  I was upset with myself the most, for not holding out sexually, and not protecting myself against this very thing.  I see it often in the school system, young girls pregnant.  I know they are young, but it always baffled me how so many of them didn’t use protection.  And there I was in the same condition as some of my students.  (Well, not the exact same condition:  I was grown and working, but my pregnant students and I were both still going to become mothers because of our stupidity.)  I am not sure why I was angry with my boyfriend, other than the fact that it was him who laid down with me.  He was a good, supportive man, and I knew he would be a good father because I’d seen him with the kids that he raised.  I didn’t want to tell him I was pregnant because I seriously felt he would want to keep this baby; I couldn’t do that!  I was angry at God for a lot of reasons.  My life seemed to be falling apart despite my past as a positive, faithful Christian.  Did I not deserve to be happy?  My ex-husband was happy.  He was preparing for his second marriage.  Other people I knew who barely seemed to be saved were happy. (That was judgmental, I know, but that’s how I thought.)  Why couldn’t I do what I wanted to do and be happy, too?  Why? Why? Why?  Did God forget who I was?  I, Melva, moved to Louisiana because He, God, told me to. (I’ll tell that story another time.)  I stopped dating for a period of time (well before my marriage) so God could prepare me for my future mate.  I, I, I…could go on and on with reasons why God should have had mercy on me!  Yes, I was mad with God, too! 

Two nights after finding out I was pregnant, I knew I had to do something drastic, or I would drown.  I had to tell someone (other than my sister).  I couldn’t tell my parents, yet; I was too scared.  I couldn’t tell my boyfriend, he wouldn’t understand because he doesn’t have to carry a baby for nine months.  Who could I turn to?

I called my pastor.  I braced myself for the back lash, but there was none!  He was so gentle with my feelings (other than a little chuckle he gave once I told him of my current situation).  He didn’t condone my sin, but “matter of factly” stated that what was done was done, and all I could do at this point was to move forward.  After encouraging me through my stressful sad story, he said something like, “You know you can’t get rid of the baby, right?”

Pastor Burgess rescued me! His loving kindness, understanding, and wise counsel became my floatation device.  The biggest thing was that he saved my baby that morning.  That simple question, You know you can’t get rid of the baby, right?  made me realize that I could never abort this life within me.  And now that my pastor knew, he could and would hold me accountable.

So, I was keeping the baby! 

I am twenty-three weeks and two days pregnant today!  I still have a lot of emotions to work through, but God has given me strength.  My family (including my parents) and church family have accepted my pregnancy and are my biggest supporters.  I did not plan to be in this place, but I am, and I accept that! I am opening myself up to let God use me, despite, despite, despite Me!

To my friends and readers that have toiled with pregnancy and abortion:

God forgives.  We must forgive ourselves.  Remember that Jesus knew your sin before you knew it, and He still chose to die to set you free from the guilt and regret of your sin.  You are redeemed!

This has been Melva’s TRUTH!

Remember:  I am not the good news—Jesus is!

**One Day I’ll Tell My Kids   Entry #3

Dear Future Baby,

Mommy struggled with the decision to have another baby—that baby was you.  I want you to know that I was selfish; I only thought of how ashamed and changed I would be.  After Godly counsel, I clearly see and feel the joy that you will bring to my life.  Every time you kick or move I am reminded of the life that God blessed me with, even though I don’t deserve you.  Little girl, I am no longer ashamed.  I walk around where ever I go proudly showing off my new physique.  I want everyone to know that you will be here really soon, and you will be our blessing!

I am preparing for you spiritually.  I want to be strong for you; therefore, I have to learn to let God be my strength.  This is a tough training camp, but for you (and your siblings) it is so worth it! Baby girl, I love you so much!  I can’t wait to hold you and watch you grow into a beautiful woman of God.  You are so special to me! You are the baby that my soul fought for!

Love you much,

Mommy

Knock and the Door Shall Be Opened

Home:  population around 6,800 people; one local high school that also caters to smaller surrounding towns; Bojangles, McDonald’s, Burger King, Hardees, Subway, Captain D’s, KFC, two Chinese joints, three Mexican cuisine restaurants, some mom & pop eateries, Belk, and of course the spot to see everyone you ain’t seen all week—Walmart.  (Forgive me if I failed to mention someplace you deem mentionable.)

Recently, an out-of- towner who’d just moved to and set up business in Lake City, asked me what brought me back to the area.  Not wanting to share my sad song, I replied, “There’s no place like home, right?”  His raised eyebrows accompanied by his silence let me know that he could think of a few better places than my home town.  Yeah, I understood what he saw and what he didn’t see.  But still for me, home was safety, trust, calm and escape—a new start. 

However, after a few months home, I became restless.  I wanted to jump start my new life.  I needed to feel vibrant and alive again.  I needed to discover who I was.  I mean, explore who this husbandless woman with two children to provide for was.  In Louisiana, I was a minister’s wife, a mother, and a teacher.  I was comfortable with who I’d become.  My separation, however, seemed to change everything.  Yes, I was still a mother and a teacher, but I was no longer a wife.  I had no one to take care of me.  I was saved and single once again.  I found it very hard to go back to the saved and single woman I was before marriage.  I now had two kids and I was living with my parents--different kind of saved and very different kind of single, if you know what I mean?  At this point in my life, I couldn’t remember how to get back to that place if I tried.  And a large part of me didn’t want to find it again anyway.  I wanted something new and exciting.  I wanted to just get lost in life.  Although I was satisfied with the Louisiana Melva, I couldn’t live the Louisiana Melva’s life in Lake City.  In Lake City, I always found myself trying to explain myself to people--needing other people to understand and accept the place that I was coming from and the place that I wasn’t in.  (This blog’s explanation is different because I have accepted where I am in life, and I oddly appreciate what I have been through and what I am going through.)

I wanted what my married life didn’t offer me.  I wanted the freedom to simply be!  This was a struggle for me:  Transforming myself, so to speak.  How do you do that on your own?

It’s funny how a girl’s first pair of skinny jeans, some cute heels, and a cool new hairstyle can change her perception about herself.  Well, that’s exactly what it did for me.  The more “hip” me made me feel pretty again, confident, and…wait for it…flirty!  I liked it! 

(I still had trouble fitting this new found awareness of myself into the spiritual box that I’d lived in for so long.  My box had sound, firm walls with windows in them.  I could see the world but I was safely tucked away in God’s domain.  I believed nothing could touch me--not that I hadn’t had any trials…had many of them; but I was a good example of what the “church” considered  a good moral leader, so of course I was safe, I thought.  The new me kicked and screamed and beat at the box’s door.  This side of me wanted—not out—but just for a wall or two to maybe fall down. Well, one thing I’ve learned is that if you beat at a door hard enough and long enough, God will allow it to be opened.  However, that doesn’t mean it’s the door that God intended for you to walk through.)

The last weekend of September 2011 was Lake City High School’s Homecoming weekend.  I planned to attend the Friday night activities.  It was while attending the Homecoming festivities that the spiritual box’s door flung wide open.  And the storm that raged outside that door, blew all the walls down…I met someone!

Okay, it wasn’t a first time meeting.  I’d known him since I was a child.  As a pre-teen, I had the biggest crush on him, and there he was standing outside at the game with his friends.  I spoke to him; I was very attracted to him, still…

I don’t think that it is proper to share all the details about how he and I hooked up or our relationship thereafter; but know this, I fell in love.  What ensued between us even until now has been a beautiful, passionate, and crazy roller coaster of a ride. 

It all happened so fast.  Not without warning signs, though:  “Mel, you’re not divorced, yet!” my parents cried; Melva, it is still adultery even if you’re separated, my Bible reminded me; “Think of your children.  They need time to heal, too!” the voices, they were there, but how do you stop a roller coaster when it is at the pinnacle of its tracks?

I had what I wanted, Love.

So we rode until our crazy roller coaster…(wheels screeching)… I…(metal crashing)…AM…(cars flying)…PREGNANT…derailed!  Jesus, help me!

Where do I go from here?  Read next week to see...

This has been Melva’s TRUTH.

Remember:  I am not the good news—Jesus is!

 **One Day I’ll Tell My Kids…  Entry #2

Dear Kids,

Mommy has been through some tough times, but a lot of my hardships, I caused on myself.  I just could not be content in life, at times.  That was because I didn’t believe who I was in Christ, and because I didn’t love myself just as God made me.  I constantly wanted to reconstruct who I was.  My remodeling was always a failure.  That’s because reconstructing or remodeling isn’t my job--it’s God’s!

I have tried to teach you to love who you are as a girl, as a boy, as a Christian.  I know that there will be times when it seems as though you need to add some sugar or maybe a pepper to your pot of life.  But remember, God is the Chef.  He adds the ingredients.  You only stir, or fan the flames.  Let God lead you.  It’ll save you much heartache in the future, I promise.  However, when you take over the cooking (because every Christian at some point in his walk tries to take control), be quick to release the Chef’s apron back to God or you will burn (like Mommy did lots of times).  But even if you burn, know that God can make a great casserole out of what we would throw away.  Don’t ever give up!

Be who you are.  Love each other and yourselves.  Live life as the Word of God teaches.  You’ll find that you can be happy and content…in success or failure.

Love you much,

Mommy

What’s Love Got to Do With It

I lived in Louisiana for almost ten years.  I married, had children and made many friends there.  I really never saw myself leaving the state.  But it was in May 2011 that I packed my car full of the last of my children and my possessions, preparing to move back to my childhood home:  South Carolina.

My marriage had ended.  My husband moved out months prior.  I had no job, very little money, two children and false hope—a lot of false hope. 

My marriage, seemingly most of it, was very troubled.  In my opinion, my husband opened a lot of doors that allowed storms to enter our lives.  In all honesty, I not only opened some bad doors, too, but I walked through many that were left open by him.  We both were saved and in ministry; we both needed to be ministered to seriously!

When I realized that our marriage was at its breaking point, I began to try to fight for it.  I wanted my marriage to work.  I didn’t want to be a statistic of divorce.  I wanted my kids to have the luxury of growing up in a Christian home with Christian parents who loved them and each other.  My fight, however, was a losing battle.  He left me on March 3, 2011. 

Initially, I was relieved.  I was so tired, angry, humiliated and hurt.  It seemed to be my ticket out of Hell.  However, on the surface I was happy to be free, but deep, well hidden, in a room at the end of my soul’s hallway, I wanted him to come running back to me!  I wanted him to need and want me.  I wanted and expected him to have an epiphany that God’s plan was for us to overcome the odds and make our marriage last. 

I waited, but still on an early Thursday morning in May, I buckled my son (my daughter was already in South Carolina with my parents)into my over-loaded Sentra, then pulled out of my foreclosure pending driveway—my husband did not come to rescue me!  So, twelve and a half hours home, my first home, to live with my parents again (with my kids), I drove to Lake City, South Carolina. 

Home was almost just as I left it back in December 1999 (the year I graduated from college and moved to Maryland).  Though it was a boring little town it served as a place of peace for me and my kids.  I could actually clearly hear God’s voice again!  Those first months home were beautifully amazing.  I knew it was where I needed to be.  I secured a job within the school system pretty easily. (Thank God for favor!) And I began searching for a place that my children and I could call home.  

I really thought I was okay.  I’d even venture to say that I believed I was healed from all of my mess.  I’d bounced back!  Or so I naively thought.  (Secretly I made myself forget the nights that I still cried because my husband didn’t love me anymore, and there was nothing I could do to make him love me or want me.)

I blamed my husband for our separation.  I was angry and I believed I had a right to be.  All that he put me through…and my kids, especially my older child, my daughter, who simply adored her father was now suffering.  Yes, my anger towards him was justified, at least in my mind.

My separation left an empty place in me.  Like many females, all I wanted was to be loved by a man who would stand with me and for me despite my faults.  I wanted love!

I told myself and my friends that I was fine without a man, and that I preferred it that way for the time being.  Well, I was lying to myself and others.  The truth was that I wanted to be swept off of my feet.  In my heart I knew it was too soon to be thinking of new relationships.  One of the main reasons was because I wasn’t even divorced, only separated, and only for several months at that!  But still, I wanted to be loved so desperately…I did not want to be alone.  This desperation didn’t start when my husband left me.  It began when I first felt betrayed and abused by my husband.  That was long before he actually left.

That feeling of betrayal is a blow that I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy.  It tore me up inside.  I allowed each betrayal to push me further and further away from who I really was.  I started to define myself and my marriage by my hurt and pain.  I was both too committed and too prideful to leave, though.  I was drowning in my own self pity.  This led to my demise as a woman…Jonathan and Mary Brown’s daughter…a Christian. 

Remember I told you that I opened some bad doors during my marriage, too.  Yes, my husband had already made it clear to me that he was done, but we were still married and sleeping in the same bed.  (Although we were no longer intimate.)  I used as an excuse, all the times he’d stepped out on me to condone my emotional desire to have love at any cost.

Confession:  During my marriage (while we were together) I reached out emotionally to other men (nothing physical, but sinful just the same).   I was determined to be longed for.  It wasn’t an intentional “reaching out,” but still I allowed the Devil to fool me and make me think I could find love outside my home.  One such example of my foolish actions was shortly after I knew my marriage was over.  I contacted an old lover.  Old, like high school/college boyfriend.  My intentions were pure, at first.  We would talk and catch-up and laugh together.  Each day I couldn’t wait until we had the opportunity to talk.  The more we talked, the more we became emotionally attached.  It happened so quickly.  It seemed to me that I’d accepted the wrong man as my husband.  This old friend was obviously the one I should have waited to spend my life with, right?

Why was it that I felt as if I had to have a man?  What was missing from my life?  I had two beautiful children, family and friends that loved and supported me, and not to mention, God!  Why wasn’t that enough for me? Why did I have such a strong desire to be loved?

Anyway, this telephone relationship lasted about three months before it fizzled out.  Before I even moved back home, I think we both understood that we were using each other to fill empty spaces in our hearts.  He’d recently lost his mother, and I lost my husband.  We began to hurt each other (unintentionally, I’m sure) because that is what hurting people do: hurt each other.

I have now accepted my part in the failure of my marriage.  It was a hard pill to swallow.  Wrong doesn’t negate wrong.  Doing things God’s way is the only way.  Some might say, “Girl, I understand.”  Maybe you have even been in a similar situation.  Well, I am glad that there are those that understand.  But please don’t condone my sin.  Don’t brush it away because so many people have done it.  By admitting my wrong, I know I have grown up a little more.  A big step for me and I am proud!

I’m sharing all of this so that you understand my realness.  I was and I am saved by Jesus Christ, but I am nothing if I don’t allow Him to lead me.  I was and I am a strong on the outside, broken on the inside idea of a person.  Idea?  I have an idea of who God wants me to be, but until I allow Him to manifest His idea of who I am in my life, I will only be a plan, an idea—missing the mark of becoming a real, true, walking, talking reality of God’s greatness!

So what’s love got to do with it?  Everything! 

Read next week to see how because of love or the lack of it, I walked through a door that is changing my life forever…

This has been Melva’s TRUTH.

Remember:  I am not the good news—Jesus is!

**One Day I’ll Tell My Kids…    Entry #1

Dear Chandler,

One day you will fall madly, head over heels in love with a man. (And I pray he feels the same towards you!)  It will be the most beautiful sensation that you have experienced with another person.  Cherish that love; hold it close to your heart and protect it against all odds.  But most importantly, Chandler, remember your first love: Jesus!  It is Jesus who has taught you to love this man oh, so freely.  It is also Jesus who taught you the magical lesson of forgiveness when He died on the cross for your many sins.  So may your heart be gentle towards this man that you have chosen to allow into your heart when he stumbles and falls.  Help him up with loving hands.  But don’t allow his weaknesses to change who you are in Christ—who God has molded you to be.  No matter what the day brings in your love affair, know that your first love will never, ever fail you!  He will be there when no one else remains…you won’t have to go searching for a new love because inside of you, you have the ultimate lover.  Remember, my dear baby girl, you were loved before the world even began.  Let that be enough…and God will do the rest!

Love you much,

Mommy