I wrote something.

And now I’m sitting on it. Not sure if and when to publish it. Maybe soon. Maybe never. Stuff is heavy for me and the kids lately, that’s for sure. And that’s why I haven’t been blogging. Or, at least, why I haven’t been publishing what I’ve been blogging. I’m not sure if I can. But I wanted you to know I am still alive and kicking. Well, even if I am only kicking because I’m being dragged kicking and screaming somewhere I don’t want to go.

Oh dear, I’d better stop writing or I’ll again have a long thing I can’t or won’t publish. So there.

I wrote something.

To say that, at least on an earthly level, things aren’t looking so hot in the relationship department over here would be an understatement. It’s ugly in these parts. But the worse things seem to seem, the more I cling to this:

Right now, it’s really all I have: the knowledge that somehow, God is going to weave this whole mess into something good, for His glory. I can’t see it yet, as I’m beneath the tapestry, looking at all the colored fibers going this way and that. It makes no sense to my eyes and is all messy and awful from here. But God is looking at my life, and at the kids’ lives, and at my husband’s life, from above. God sees the pattern in the tapestry that He is causing all these ugly, crisscrossed lines to make.

So, I trust Him. Cling to Him. And wait. Wait to see what He’s making out of this mess.

After almost three months of not speaking, my husband and I have started talking again.

He had asked for space, lots of it, so I gave it to him. Once he initiated talking on the phone a short time ago, I was encouraged. And still angry, sad and confused. But there was now lots of encouragement mixed in.

It’s been hard, really hard, talking on the phone with him. Except for seeing him the day of my car accident and in bankruptcy court, I’ve not seen him at all since we parted ways in the beginning of February. I’m not sure if the time and distance make it hard. Or if when many the thoughts I have…and hope for…about him and us are dashed (or, at the very least, put on severe hold) that it’s just hard for me. I don’t know.

What I do know is that things are not going super great between us. Understatement. But we are talking. Progress. We’ve had three (long) phone conversations now. We’ve been working out financial plans finally. So, this is good. But it’s still so hard. There are lots of negatives floating around between us. The D word gets spoken. But so does the R word. We’ve both acknowledged that, on a “should” level at least, we want to reconcile. On a “want” level? Yeah, not so much.

But we need to go with the “should.” We both know that. But, for very varying reasons, it’s hard to follow the should. But we’re trying, have committed to trying, and will at least keep communicating a little more now. That’s our “plan” right now. To be honest, talking with him and having D and R thoughts racing through my brain now is much harder than the past few weeks when we had arrived at our new normal and I was just living life. This change has sort of upset the apple cart if that makes any sense. But if it needed to be upset for progress to be made in the relationship between our children’s parents, then so be it.

If you would, I’d love for you to pray for us. For eyes of God’s, to see things and way He wants us to. For changed hearts and true conviction. For a refusal to listen to satan’s temptations and lies. For protection for our children.

For us to both do the right thing. Not the easy thing. Or the tempting thing. Or the selfish thing. Or the worldly thing. Or the popular thing. Or the weak thing. Or the recommended thing. Just that we would do the right thing. And I’d follow that up with, “Whatever that is.” But I know exactly what that is. Praying that my husband does, too. I think he does. And I think that more apple cart upsetting is in our future. But that could be good. And at least it’s progress. And progress is good.

Oh, and Babe, if you’re reading this: I love you.

It’s been eight years since I married you. Cocked my head to the said and said, “I sure do.” It’s been two and a half months since the living room. You said you were leaving. And I thought it was all my fault. But couldn’t tell you.

The wind was kicked out of me. I was floored. Totally, utterly floored. And broken. And yet determined. Hopeful. Knocked down but not out.

It’s been three weeks since we started talking, and the kids, a little tiny bit, here and there. That is good. So good. It’s been two weeks since I decided I would file for legal separation. So I am. And I am sure it is the right thing. So what if very few people file it, instead just opting to file divorce. I won’t. Right now I don’t see God prompting me whatsoever to try to divorce you. I love you. I love our family. I love our children enough to want to do what is right by them. In all ways. And I think this is what I needed to do. And not that.

It’s been two months since we parted ways. And since they’ve seen you. And two months since I decided I would pour every drop of myself into our precious children, more than I ever have before. Do the right thing. Or at least try. Hold my head high. Pray for you. And for us. Love the kids like never before. Choose to look within, focus on me and my need for change alone. Not yours. It’s been two hours since the kids asked about you, said they missed you, wished you were here on our trip with us. It’s been a few weeks since I’ve cried.

It’s been five days since the living room. I packed up all our stuff and not a moment too soon. Took the kids in the car and said, “We’re crazy. We’re gonna drive all over the south and have the most fun.” Five days since they laughed at me, told me I was the best mom and were we there yet. Two days since I looked in their eyes. Deep in their eyes and all I could see was you. It’s been one day since I wondered about what could have been. What should have been.

It’s been a few weeks since I realized this is not all my fault and not a moment too soon. It’s been two months since you asked me to give my rings back to you. Two months since, even though they are mine and I didn’t have to, I chose to give them to you. One month since I’ve seen you. And learned you didn’t indeed sell the rings. They are still yours. They are still mine. It’s been four weeks since I caught a lady looking at my left ring finger right after I mentioned my family was going through “a difficult season.” Will the dented place on my finger where I wore them for eight years remain bare, the flesh slowing starting to straighten out and catch a tan? I don’t know. Honestly, I don’t even try to know these days. It is so much easier for me not to wonder. It’s odd, I think, but for me it works: I am carrying on almost as if you’ve died. At least in some areas. Emotionally, it was the only place I could “go” and find “rest.” Otherwise, I was tormented night and day by wonderings. What if this? What if that? When will this? When will that? I have no idea. I can’t know. Maybe some would say I shouldn’t know. So acting as if I can’t know has worked.

It’s been a few weeks since I realized this separation is really getting me back on my knees before Jesus, as I ask Him to continue to carry and love me, and you. My journey to become someone who is not so tied up in trying to control the destiny of all things and control the way you treat me so that I can control the way I feel about myself has been in full tilt. Never before, in all honesty, have I felt so much peace about who I am in Christ. I found so much of myself in you, Babe. In good ways. And in very bad ways. I am who I am in Him. This place, I needed to come here. Desperately. I am so confident, so sure, so unmoved by the wily ways of satan and the world trying to knock me off my game. Because I don’t need outward junk to fill me up like I used to. Three months ago. Really. The peace I have is unspeakable. To be able to get free from my crushing “need” to try to control the way others respond to me so that in turn I get the “feeling” I want from their reaction has been, well, freeing. If only this wasn’t the way I had to go about finding it. Through being separated from you.

It’s been one day since I’ve forgiven you. And one week. And one month. And one year. Forgiving is an ever present part of any relationship. I can’t imagine that forgiving me is easy. I don’t know if you do, are or have. But I have found that I must. Forgive you. For all of this. And that. And everything. Always. Just as God forgives us. Constantly. Holding onto bitterness and hatred? Not for me. Not for our kids. Worth it. I have just as much that I need to be forgiven for. Let’s not keep score. No one wins that way.

When I think about you, and count the days we’ve been apart, this song always comes to mind. It makes me sad. And then kind of laugh. Because, really. It’s a Barenaked Ladies song. And it’s silly. But it’s also sad. Because I wonder how much of this is already us. And how much of it will be. And how much of it won’t be. I don’t know. But I can’t know. And I am okay with that. Really. Even if I do still get sad about it when I think of silly songs.

Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for You are with me. Numerous are the occasions in the past few days that I’ve had to remind myself, out loud at times, of Psalm 23:4. Reciting Scripture is one of the only ways I make it through some of the extremely tough moments our family is having this week. I hardly see the purpose in comparing any certain day or week to another, but if I did I would for sure say that this week is taking the cake. It’s so hard. It’s so, so, so hard. But then, I remember that I can do all things through him who gives me strength (Philippians 4:13). I don’t feel like I can. I don’t feel at all like I can navigate this road, this without my husband road, this unspeakable pain for all involved road myself. And then I realize it’s because I can’t. But I can do all things through Christ. So I say that aloud as I look in the mirror before taking the kids to school, mascara already staining my cheeks. I can do this.

But it isn’t about me. What about our children!? What on God’s green earth about our children!? How are they supposed to…. and then God taps me on the shoulder. Let the little children come to Me (Matthew 9:14). Again a verse comes to my mind. But. Will He really take care of them, even when their earthly father is not? As children, is there any way they can feel that love tangibly from a God they cannot see? I have to believe, I simply have no other choice than to believe, that someday, somehow God will redeem this wilderness experience our children are having and spring forth new life from it. It is to that hope I must cling, even though I do feel daily like I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, especially when a longed for message from my husband again does not arrive. Especially when I remember that I don’t have my wedding and engagement ring anymore. Especially when the impossible questions escape the children’s mouths.

And even in all of this, I know that my husband isn’t the enemy. I am not my own enemy. I am not the enemy of my marriage and neither is my husband. And, for the most part, I am able to remember that. Yet anger comes raging into my heart like a bull when I see the now all too familiar pain in my children’s eyes. I am so tempted to kick and scream (re: send a scathing email or a vile voice mail). But so far I’ve held off. God’s Word is hidden in my heart, and it bubbles to the surface. Don’t sin by letting anger control you (Ephesians 4:6). It’s okay, Jennifer. Be angry. But don’t sin in that anger. Besides, my husband isn’t the real enemy, as I was saying. He may be the easy scapegoat, his behavior appalling to me, but he isn’t my adversary. Satan is. The Bible says that the thief (that’s the devil) comes only to steal and kill and destroy (John 10:10). It’s his M.O. It’s what he does. I have a friend who is so faithful to remind me to call satan out for the deceiver that he is. Out loud. And demand that he get away from me. He is my sworn enemy; my husband is not.

But what about tomorrow? How will I pay for our house? Will he ever come back? What if I can’t be what he needs? What if we get divorced? How will the kids’ emotional well being be affected by all this? Where will I get the energy to get up and pack lunches? Will he make eye contact with me the next time we see each other? When will the next time I see him be?

Yet then, softly, do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own (Matthew 6:25). Ain’t that the truth!? Trouble abounds these days, tears flow freely from many eyes at bedtime, and there have been a few choice moments this week when I wished the ground to open up and swallow me whole. But yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for You are with me.

You are with me, Lord. Thank You for being with me.

I want to take away their pain and confusion, but I don’t know how. Great is my longing to stop the ways they are being wronged. Oh, how I wish I could make everything right.

But I can’t.

My tears are usually for them. With them. I pound my fists and cry, “Why!? Why them!?” To watch them struggle is to want to break into a million pieces.

But I won’t.

I imagine that I am strong enough to do this. Pretending the fortitude I wish I had was really here, that the freaking wind really was beneath my wings.

But it’s not.

Drowning myself in my work, deals up the wazoo, business opportunities galore, photo lessons every second or third day, promoting every cotton picking thing I love, sharing from the heart and doing what I honestly love doing so that I can make a buck. It is me who has the responsibility on my shoulders right now of providing for my children. I wish I could say I’m feeling really confident about that.

But I’m not.

They are open, telling me how they feel. What they fear. How they dream. I stroke their hair and remind them he loves them so much. And so do I. And so does our Heavenly Daddy, who loves them with a perfect love. They pray, sing, fight, cry, laugh and ask questions. I wish I had all the answers. Or even some answers.

But I don’t.

I try to keep life normal, but we all know it’s not. There is a truth behind our eyes, an unsteadiness, we all feel it. So short do I feel I fall at being capable to help them walk this road. To even walk it myself. The family counseling is bound to be wonderful for us. I will see him in two more days. It’s been seven weeks or so now for them. Maybe six. Four for me. Most days I don’t keep track, try not to wonder about where he is. I stay busy. Mostly because I must. It’s busy running my family. But I also stay busy to cover the pain. The pain I wish would wash down the drain after I take my long baths.

But it doesn’t.

Great is my sadness for him when I let myself go there. How hurt he must be, how much I ache for my love. But the anger and rage mixes in. I wish I could balance those things.

But I can’t.

Someday, though. Mark my words. Someday, even if it is not on this side of eternity, someday. Someday, so help me God, someday. Someday I will say I can, I will, I am, it does, I do.

And I did.

Someday.

This afternoon I texted my friend Sarah, who has walked crappy marriage circumstances, separations and reconciliations in a lather, rinse, repeat fashion in her own marriage, and told her I wasn’t going to do it. I couldn’t choose to love my husband. I was so proud of her for choosing to stay the course in her own marriage when her husband left her, but I wasn’t strong enough to do that myself. And so I told her as much.

I knew what she was going to say. And I needed to hear it. You see, that’s why I wrote her in the first place.

“That’s great,” she responded. “You don’t have to have the strength. It’s God who has the strength, remember?”

Yes, I certainly did.

It’s with a renewed determination that I have chosen to give up my right to be mad, seek revenge, try to get what’s fair and to pout. That’s right. I’m going to choose to keep loving my husband, even though I honestly don’t really feel like it a whole lot these days. What does that mean, exactly? How do I love him when I’m living away from him, not seeing or speaking to him at all?

Well, God has been speaking to my heart through His word, through music and through friends of mine like Sami who are bold enough to tell me the truth when they think I need to hear it. He’s made a few things clear to me. Painfully clear. I mean that very literally, for I fear this will be painful, this continuig to love my husband. I believe with all of my being, even though my flesh is trying so hard to convince me otherwise, that a few things are true. And here, in no particular order, they are.

1. I am not supposed to divorce my husband.

It’s this simple: God hates divorce. He also hates my sin, including those that led to my husband feeling so hurt and distant from me that he chose to leave. I must leave my sin behind, or at least fight it kicking and screaming until the day I die and I am at last completely free from its shackles, and I must not divorce my husband. I don’t believe I have a Biblical right to do that right now and, even though on my difficult nights many fibers of my very being (not all of them, for there are a few strong ones left) ache for me to do just that, I am committing that I won’t do it right now. Not because that it is not my desire to file divorce papers, but because I don’t believe I should.

2. My respect for my husband should’t hinge on how respectable he is being.

This is one hard for me, friends. So freaking hard. I have failed at this. Miserably. Throughout most of our marriage, this has been my one hugest failing. I have kept a tight, blood drawing death grip on my perceived right to not honor my husband when he is not acting honorably. And now, with him having chosen to leave us, seeing the children only once in the past four weeks or so and only then by happenstance, it would be so easy (so amazingly easy, trust me here) to choose a path of disrespect and dishonor towards my husband during this season in our lives. I believe is acting reprehensibly. Utterly. But I hear God, when I’m willing to back down from my bull-headed stubbornness and pride for a moment, telling me that He doesn’t love me only when I’m being lovable. And, while of course I’m not God and cannot ever lost as perfectly as He can, that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t try. Every single day of my life. So, I will. After all, what kind of a man leaves his family and doesn’t even communicate with his children for a while? I’ll tell you what kind: A very hurting man who must be in a terrible place in his life. What should I do knowing that my husband is feeling so hurt and miserable so as to do something like this that is so out of character for him? Well, I could tell you what I want to do sometimes. It involves demanding he get his act together, screaming obscenities at him and letting him know how utterly selfish he is being and what damage he is bringing to our family. And I won’t say I haven’t done any of that. I have. And it wasn’t pretty. But I know that God is telling me that isn’t the path I should stay on. If he is hurting this badly, my husband needs more love and respect. The fact that he is acting this poorly means I need to step up my game, not kick him while he’s down. It also means I have a very serious need to examine exactly what kind of a wife I have been to him. So, dadgumit, I’m going to try. And I’m typing this out as a pep talk to myself, because after these past couple days, I couldn’t feel any less like doing that.

3. Anger, resentment and bitterness will eat me alive if I let them.

Those emotions are hungry little sons of you-know-what. They will eat me alive, I can already tell. I won’t let them. I can’t. My children don’t need a bitter, angry, resentful mother. Plus, Dr. R, our marriage counselor, has long told us that couples need to work out their unforgiveness and resentment issues with each other even if they do get divorced. Forgiveness isn’t a gift for the perpetrator: it’s for ourselves. And even if my husband and I divorced, I would still eventually need to forgive him, for myself if nothing else. So since I have to walk the difficult road of forgiveness either way, I figure I may as well do it now. To that end, I have been trying so hard to only speak positively about my husband, at least on my blog and in front of my children. A lot of you have been encouraging me to that end, sharing your own stories, and I’m pretty sure you guys are right.

4. I won’t define my husband by his worst behavior.

My friend Sarah was the one who reminded me that we don’t want to be defined by our actions during our lowest points, do we? I know I sure don’t. So even though I am tempted to think of my husband as a scumbag who has left us in the lurch, I know it is just not right to do that. If I were defined by my worst behavior, I’d be a chair throwing, police calling, divorce threatening, deliberately agitating, name calling, disrespectful lunatic. I would like to not think of myself as how I have acted in my darkest moments. I am so much more than that. And, of course, so is my husband. He is a good man, he loves the Lord, he adores his children, he has a good heart. Those are the things I know to be true about him. He is loved, forgiven, valued and cherished by God. He should be cared for the same way by me. So I’m not going to define him by his worst behavior. And I’d like to ask you not to do that, either. At least not “out loud” in the comments on my blog. I don’t believe it will help one bit with what I hope will be our soon to commence restoration process.

5. I’m trying to ignore his protests and assertions.

Our counselor, with whom I still meet regularly, gave me a copy of this article many months ago. Lots of you sent the link to it along to me recently as well when I blogged about my separation from my husband. MckDaddy has ignored my crazy protests and inane assertions before. Okay, none have been quite this longstanding, but still. I’m trying to ignore his. You should really read that article. It’s great.

6. I’m the problem, too.

Okay, okay. So I don’t think God wants me to focus on the fact that I’m the problem. Our eyes shouldn’t be on our actual problems ever anyway but instead on the prize, on the victory, on the end we know is coming. But I struggle with this. Yes, here is where I still need the most work. I can go through the motions, giving lip service to the fact that I admit I’m the problem in our marriage, too. But it’s hard for me to truly believe it in my own heart. It’s difficult because my stinking pride usually won’t let me see anything except a little glimpse of this truth. But it is true, and I must rip the veil completely off of this principal. I am the problem, too. While my husband needs to own his reaction to me and my behavior, for I can’t be responsible for “making” him act in any way, I have known full well that some of my terribly annoying, intense behaviors were causing distance to remain between me and my husband. Yet I held fast to them, as they brought me a familiar sense of comfort and control, even as I saw them gnawing away at my husband’s capacity to keep loving me. Yes, his love for me is a choice. But I definitely didn’t do what I needed to do on my end to make loving me easier. Yes, I’m the problem, too.

And so there you have it. I am choosing not to even consider divorcing my husband at this point, am determined to respect him even during this season of disrespect from him, anger and bitterness are not welcome in my heart, my husband is so much more than the sum of his worst behaviors, as much as I can while daily being confronted with the reality of being a solo parent I’m ignoring his claims that he doesn’t want to be in our family, and I’m acknowledging and trying to dig deep into the fact that I’m the problem, too.

Like it or not (and some days I don’t), these are some of the things I think are true. I’m determined to cling to them. Feel free to join me in positive talk about my husband (and about me), in the sharing of God’s truth and in hope for restoration of my family and marriage. Should you not be on that same page, I ask you to please respectfully choose to share only what is noble, right, pure, lovely and admirable.

Thank you for listening and for being a (unique!) part of my life.