This is a continuation of a new series every Friday where I will be highlighting the growth and healing of one of my readers, a new reader each week. I sent out the call for stories that answered either ‘what is one lesson God has taught you?’ or ‘what is one way God has healed you?’ through their hard marriages, their separations, their divorces, their single mothering seasons, their forays into dating post-divorce, or even their remarriages.  These, my sweet ones, are their brave and vulnerable stories. Take heart…you are not alone.

The Rope

Fractions of measure at a time
The rope slips.

Her hands,
They are bloodied and bruised.
She’s been holding on so long.
The rope burns her flesh.
The pressure and pain turns her entire body numb.

All She can do is watch the rope slip.
It slips.
She feels helpless.
She is losing hope.

The rope slips.

The pit is dark.
The well is dry.
There is no cushion to shoulder the fall.
He, the one she loves, suspends in a false perception of protection and security.
His comfort has reigned for so long.
In the darkness,
He can not see how far he has slipped.
Ignorance is bliss.

The rope slips

A hand appears over hers
It’s not like the other hands
The others have tried to grasp hers pull the rope, double her efforts.
They squeeze her hands hard
The pressure only increases her pain.
The rope digs deeper as her hand is crushed heavily around it.
More bloodied
More bruised
And yet

Despite the pressures
The rope slips.

This hand,
The one unlike the others,
It is gentle.
It does not grasp.
It applies no pressure.
It hovers over her own
Like a scarf of silk,
Like a healing balm

The rope keeps slipping.
She can’t hold on much longer.

She takes a deep breath,
Inhales a spark of courage.
She looks away from the rope at last.
She meets his eyes:

His name is Peace.
Without words,
His eyes speak
“Let Go”.

The rope slips.
For a moment she looks back.
She wonders what measure she lost while casting her gaze astray.

This can’t be.
The voices of truth,
The helping, no, the hurting hands,
They tell her to stand strong
Or face condemnation.
The righteous can endure this,
So She must

The rope slips.

She can’t even make out her loves image in the pit any longer.
The darkness has swallowed him

With a molecule of courage held in her breath,
She dares to gaze up once more.

The eyes of Peace,
They speak once again
“Let go. He must hit the bottom to find my rope. Let Go.”

There’s no time to question.
Without a moment to inhale another spark of courage,
Without a moment to consider the consequences of her obedience,
She exhales.
She lets go.

The rope slips
It falls deep into the pit.
She braces herself.
She hears the impact.
The pain is palpable.
The rage filled screams from below,
Night after night,
They haunt her sleep

She glances down to her own palms,
There is no flesh remaining.
She is exposed to the bone.
The man named Peace,
He will heal her.
It is His promise.
But the scars will remain.

She sits down beside the well,
The dry well,
The well that has sprung much violence.
She can not see through her tears.
For months she sits.
And she weeps.
She is numb and becoming deaf to the wailing and the rage from below.
She is blind from the tears which never stop flowing.
So she sits.

This hand,
The Man named Peace,
He does not leave her side.
He places healing balm upon her palms.
He binds up her wounds
He sits
He weeps

The wailing fades
Death seems probable
It has been months
Peace dries his own eyes
His hands gently dry hers, also
At last, She can see

A new rope has been spun from the bandages with which He bound her open flesh just months prior
She looks down to her hands
The bleeding has stopped

Slowly he lets down the rope
He begins to pull it back up
The man, her love, in the pit
He is alive
Although bruised, bleeding, battle worn
He is a new creation

Her eyes meet with Peace once more.
His eyes speak ancient words she has heard before
“I will not cause pain without allowing something new to be born,” says the Lord.”
His promise is kept.

She stands to her feet
She stumbles
Peace catches her
They begin to walk
She feels a warmth on her face.
She hopes.

She looks back to her love
He is indeed a new creation,
Beautiful and glorious yet
Bleeding and worn

She glances down again at her hands
From her scars something new is emerging:
A spark, A light
She extends her hands.
She releases the forgiveness to him.
It is her gift, all she has to give.

She looks back to her hands
She is taken aback
The scars
They remain
No longer bleeding, but tender, still.
Despite the healing balm
There is much more healing work to be done

Peace whispers
“Come, keep walking”.
So she takes another step. And then another.
She feels things she has never felt before.

The rope no longer tethers them.
Peace walks amongst them. Even as the space between their parallel paths increases, Peace expands to fill the space.

No longer tethered
No longer bound
No longer bleeding
She walks in freedom

With peace, she walks.


If this sweet woman’s post resonated with your heart, please know that you are not alone. Here are a few resources for you:

If you would like to join one my private Facebook groups (difficult marriage, separated/divorced, single moms, remarried), please send me a friend request at

If in a difficult marriage:
Surviving in a Difficult Christian Marriage is available as a PDF/e-book:

If separated/divorced:
Unraveling: Hanging onto Faith through the End of a Christian Marriage is available in paperback/e-book:

If a single mom:
Moving on as a Christian Single Mom is available as a PDF/e-book:

Life isn't always how we want it. When change seems elusive, and we're stuck in old routines, a gentle push or some self-reflection can make a difference. Let these questions be that nudge to get you moving.

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