If You Want To Make A Difference, Be Authentic

I‘ve been trying to articulate why I write, why I’ve chosen this forum, and seriously trying to figure out how I can make a pendulum swing from waxing poetic about my children’s barf to heavy topics like surviving my divorce. For whatever reason, it works for me. And the drive to see humor in most things and to be an encouragement to even one person walking through devastation has kept me going many times.

It started in 2009 when I watched my husband devolve into someone I didn’t know. As I witnessed my marriage suddenly implode, my life crumble irreparably before my eyes, I started writing. Crying out to God to stop it, to fix it, to make it go away (to inflict the other woman with a flesh-eating STD…). I still have all of those voluminous notebooks and honestly have never gone back and read them, but I knew I’d write about it all one day. If we had to go through it, I wanted it to be for something. There was no way any of this would be in vain if I had anything to say about it. Apparently this is it, at least so far. If any of it helps one person, it was worth it because really, I was on my own.

I remember well-meaning women saying I needed to appear joyful in all things. With all due respect, they had absolutely no idea what they were talking about, and there was no way God was happy about it either.

For clarity, we had left our lives behind (literally walked away from all we had) and moved to the middle of Snakenavel, Arizona (it turns out I hate the desert – a lot) to take care of my mother-in-law who was terminal, because she wasn’t leaving her home and had no other family or friends. I always believed you care for family so while I had reservations (justifiable, trust me), it was what we felt was the right thing to do. I had no way of knowing there was vile warfare being waged there that I won’t get into now, but I never saw my husband’s affair coming. This man who had been a great husband and father, an elder and gifted bible teacher, fell badly. Long story, but we were stuck there for 2 1/2 years, 18 months of which this infidelity was in my face. No friends, family, support or church (I have a hard time calling “The Church of The Goddess” church – no lie, look it up). We just were never really able to make any real, deep connections near us. All this while trying to raise my toddlers, care for my mother-in-law, and not have a nervous breakdown. I could not reconcile the man I’d married with the person he’d become and I had no idea how this would ever turn out for good. So when I say no one had any idea what I was going through, it isn’t hyperbole, and those were just the highlights, not the whole story. Nevertheless, you’d think I’d have been able to talk to someone with maybe a few elements of that trial. Uhhhhhh, nope.

Yes, joy may have come out of it, and He saw it all – beginning, middle, end – but there was nothing about the circumstances that I could rejoice in at the time. God – yes, circumstances…not a chance. So I made a commitment to be as authentic as possible when the time came to talk about it. What possible good could come of faking it? Of pretending that I was fine, that I was joyful in God and things were just peachy? Things were not peachy. Things sucked. I was devastated for myself and my little girls, and terrified about the future. I felt abandoned by God. And I was pissed. Where were all those women who’d gone before me – comfort as you’ve been comforted? They were nowhere to be found. All those emotions were real, and all that was what I needed someone to tell me was normal.  That it was okay. I needed someone to walk me through this, to tell me how to get my kids through it. How to emotionally survive. Because right up until the very moment God delivered me from that torment, I didn’t think I was going to make it. In the end, God showed me there was a reason He isolated me so I get it, and I was no longer angry, but it was excruciating.

I swear if one more person erroneously assured me that God wouldn’t give me more than I could handle, I was going to punch them in the throat. (How’s that for authentic? I know…I’m super holy.) The last time it happened I seriously lost my cheese (more holiness) and asked them if they’d ever read the Bible in their life, like ever? Because that’s exactly what God does, like all the time, so that you turn to Him fully. So that when He does deliver you out of it, you know it down to your mitochondria. So please, don’t ever say that to someone in a trial because it just isn’t true, and that verse is about temptation anyway, not trials. Besides, someone might just hit you in the face with a chair…..Just a tip. You’re welcome. Also not helpful? Telling someone they have a crown waiting for them in heaven when they’re fighting to emotionally survive the next 5 minutes.

So if someone were to tell me that they went through something similar and they were handling it all just fine it would’ve been a big, fat, epic lie and made me feel like a gigantic pile of steaming, inadequate horse dung, on top of already being scared and devastated. Because they were all okey dokey and holy, and I clearly was not.  No pressure!

But through it all God was faithful, He held me tight and eventually began putting the pieces back together. It was a long, lonely process, but He’s just like any other parent of a toddler in that He sees our fits, our anger and questioning, and isn’t rocked by it. God took everything I had to throw at Him and poured out His grace all over my heart and mind and life in spite of my fear, accusations, and misguided disappointment. He loved me anyway and restored me just like He promised He would. Because HE is faithful.

As I watched Him pull us through this hot mess and begin to restore me first, then move on to address my girls, the overarching theme of our lives has shockingly been abundant laughter. Totally warped and borderline irreverent at times, we laugh about everything, even the painful lessons. Which is awesome because I felt like someone had dragged me behind a car for a few years there, and maybe run me over a couple times.  

Just to be clear, in case you’re looking for personal counsel, I’m not the best person on earth to “walk someone through” a trial. I get it, I can tell you my story, I will encourage you, I can tell you what I learned about God through it all.  I will tell you that you will make it through this, but I’m not a warm, fuzzy kind of person suited to counseling. Ask my children. I’m the mother who, when they tell me they’re sick, I tell them to take 10 cc of Suck It Up and get in the car unless their bodies are violently expelling something. Typically I am a ‘see the problem, deal with the problem’ kind of a girl and no one would characterize me as a warm hug.

This personality has some serious drawbacks sometimes. I annoy myself often.

So that is my deepest desire here. To encourage someone, somewhere. Life is hard, and sometimes long, but God’s got this. I went into this trial (not to be confused with the other 3 epic, super-fun, emotionally eviscerating trials) a Christian woman with a pretty decent grasp of doctrine, but not a terribly intimate, trusting relationship with the Almighty, sovereign God. I was completely destroyed but I clung to the promise in Hosea (that brother and I had a few things in common so we were tight back then) – The Lord has struck us down, and He will bind us up (Hos.6.1). The Valley of Achor (literally translated “trouble”) was truly a door of hope (Hos. 2.15). This is the story, the process, of how I went from a pile of ashes, my heart and faith shattered, to a woman who stands on the Truth of God. And really, it’s His story – the story of His faithfulness and enduring love. Restoration is a process, not an event. Stay faithful. Stand on Truth. Trust God. He will do the rest.