After a lovely morning of worship and receiving communion, I dropped my son back off at home (where Sara was resting with a headache) for a day with his dad. Their dad comes to our house on Sundays and they hang out, while I go create a FUNday for myself in various forms.
I found myself eating lunch at my favorite café. I spent a bit of time journaling, where I wrote these words: “Nothing bad has happened today.” Then I wrote, “So far.” I went on to tell Jesus that I was grateful for the uneventful day and I lifted the rest of my afternoon and my week up to him.
Fast forward two hours and I wound up crying in the Trader Joe’s parking lot, as only a woman who is in the middle of ending her marriage would do. Something happened between me and my husband, via text, that took my breath away. Everything for the most part is okay, but it wasn’t in that moment and I was knocked down yet again.
I immediately called my dear friend and mentor and she talked me off the ledge, yet again. She agreed that today’s thing was horrible but reminded me that it wasn’t the end of the world. She encouraged me to head to the party that I had planned to attend and that it would be okay.
An hour later and I was at a baby shower, tear-stained cheeks, among friends, trying to guess how many diapers were in a bin and what kind of baby food was in an unlabeled jar, and I was eating and laughing and trying to forget my problem of the day.
Two hours after writing that nothing bad had yet happened, something bad happened. The process of separation, I’m discovering, is like all of the bad parts of life jammed into a short time period. It’s a falling down – or being knocked down – and than trying to stand back up again kind of cycle. Some days it wears me down to no end and I want to crawl into bed and stay. Other days, like today, I was able to heal up over party games and crab rolls and deep laughter with women who love me.
