So, I met someone…a man someone…recently (and already past tense, I’m afraid).

I know: me.  I could hardly believe it.

He is a good, good man (they are out there!) but it was complicated.  Logistically, it is complicated.  And though I was happy and giddy for the first time in a long, long time, those clunky logistics made me frustrated and sad because I actually and honestly thought, in our brief time, that he could’ve been the one.

And I don’t just mean the one I could’ve married, though I do.

And I don’t just mean the one I’d been waiting my entire life for, though I do.

I mean I thought he was the one that I could’ve been a good wife for. 

I wasn’t a good wife the first time around.  If you’ve read my blog for more than ten minutes, you know that I call myself out like all the time.  I was an impatient wife. I was a critical wife. I was a scared wife. I was an it’s-your-fault wife. I was an angry wife. I was a sad wife. I was a distrusting wife.

Now, I could push pause and attempt to justify all those versions of wives I was with actual evidence to back up my reactions, but that’s not my point. 

I was not a good wife. And I am sorry.  And I am ashamed.  And I have asked for forgiveness and tried to learn from it.

But I’ve been wondering for the past year-and-a-half since my divorce if maybe I might not be marriage material. If perhaps all I am cut out for is fighting and tears.  If I’m just too selfish or too much me to be anyone’s good wife.

And then I met this man.  And he helped to right some wrongs and he counteracted much false thinking and he helped me see myself differently.  God used him to heal some deep wounds in me. And I realized that I wanted to be a good wife for him.  It was crazy, I know, but I did.  In fact, I would’ve gone so far to say as I think I would have been a good wife for him.  (And he would have been a crazy good husband for me. Seriously, crazy good.)

We…meshed.  Complemented. Got each other. Sparked. And so much more.

We were only kind and gentle with each other, only agreeable with each other. (Brand new concept for me.) We both seemed to want the same things.  (We just weren’t sure how we’d get them because of those aforementioned frustrating logistics; thus the past tense.)

But in that short time I went from thinking I was a horrible wife who perhaps was destined for singlehood because I was created without the good wife gene or something, and now, someday, I want to be a wife again (to the right man, of course; my bar has now been raised exponentially).  Now I can picture what it might look like for me to be one.  And though the future is very hard to make out just yet and it probably won’t look the way I had already begun to long for, this realization, this shift, has brought me more joy, relief, peace and hope than I’ve had perhaps ever, and I will be forever grateful, and forever changed.

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