God hates divorce and I know why. I mean seriously who doesn’t? This is not what I want and it’s certainly not what I planned. I’ve seen a Christian counselor and I’m surrounded by an amazing support network. After doing everything I knew and everything advised by people more spiritually mature than myself, I filed for divorce. So please look me in the eye and don’t treat me as if I failed. My marriage failed, I didn’t. And I need you to help me succeed at living divorced as a Christian.
There has been a ring on my left hand since I was in high school and got a promise ring for Christmas. So much for promises. Maybe you didn’t notice my bare hand, but I feel like a limb was amputated and no one knows what to say or do.
Five years ago an orthopedic surgeon made a small incision in the crease of my palm to relieve nerve entrapment. Not that I remember, I was unconscious and numb. The pain after surgery was controlled with Ibuprofen and I didn’t even miss a day of work, yet fourteen meals were delivered to my house.
When I got seriously ill, my mailbox bulged with cards and my refrigerator overflowed with food. People sent scriptures, devotionals, books and messages of thoughtfulness. Lunch invitations were scheduled weeks in advance. For crying out loud, I was on prayer lists all over the country.
People love me well and they know what to do and say. At least when I’m sick.
Half my body was ripped away when my husband left. Living in the public eye of a small town, I felt like I wore a neon sign on my forehead. I looked at people and wondered, “Do they know?” Then they looked at me and thought, ”Should I say something?” Or worse, they diverted their eyes completely. What’s the deal? If my dog died, you’d say, “I’m so sorry.” If my foot were broken you would pitch in to help me plant my garden. Okay I don’t really have a garden, but you get the picture. You’d know what to do if I had my appendix out. But this, well this is awkward.
Never in a million