Beauty for my ashes

When I woke up this morning and opened my Facebook, there it was.

Man oh man!

Two years ago today, I had my first wedding.  After ten years we renewed our vows.

All of our friends and family were there.

I remember it like it was yesterday, my girls here at the house helping me get ready.  Melissa fixing my hair, Emily helping me get into my dress,  Mia and Haley watching all the commotion,  Caryl putting gold butterfly tattoos up my left arm, my belly turning summersaults.

I wore my friend Robyn's dress and truth be told I only returned it to her last month on my birthday.  It was a bittersweet moment for both of us.  She told me she couldn't make it the entire time I was planning, she told me she couldn't make it every time I talked about it.

I remember sitting in Emily's truck praying my makeup didn't begin to sweat away.

I remember Nathan in the parking lot talking about, "Dang Mama.", as I walked past him to go into the bar.

I remember the moment I saw Robyn's daughter standing inside the doorway, yelling out, "She lied to me!"

I was totally vibrating with nerves and expectancy.

When I walked in a shout rose up from the crowd and for fear of breaking down and crying I kept my focus on the people standing on that stage waiting for me.

I pledged my love to him again, wrote my own vows, a cute little poem that's stuck in a drawer somewhere and everyone laughed when I asked him if I looked pretty, if he liked my boots and the part about how he taught me thugs don't hold hands.

It was a beautiful day.

It was my day.

I was a bride.

A year and two months later, on a Wednesday, he was gone.

I was taking a nap with the baby on my day off and when we woke up the car was gone and him with it.

My truck was in the shop because he'd torn it up and I'd had a tow truck pick up while I was on the way to church Sunday.

He took money out of my desk, left me with a baby and no ride.

What everyone doesn't know is the hell I went through, having to hide money, to hide keys, to make sure things were locked away, jumping out of bed from a dead sleep to see if he was still at the house.  No one knows all the stuff that got carried off to the dope man, the money it has costed me to start over and over again.

No one knows how relieved I really am.

He's been gone a year next month and even though I pledged my love to him forever I will never ever take him back or return to living that life of nightmares and uncertainty.  My love remains in tact, my willingness to go on is another story.

God is giving me beauty for my ashes and it didn't destroy me for him to leave it actually made my life better.

I had a baby to take care of.  I couldn't do that and deal with him as well.

I am no longer willing to start over and over again for someone who has nothing to offer me but their own selfishness.

Love has nothing to do with it, the boundaries were drawn and that's that.

He chose everything but me over and over again.

It didn't matter what I did, how much I loved him, how kind or patient I was, getting high was what he wanted and getting high was what he did, by any means necessary.

I didn't talk about it with others, because there are always those that say, "well you stay with him,".  It had been going on for so long it was like a rerun of a bad movie.  It really wasn't anyone else's business anyway.

Because I'm a very vocal and outspoken person people have the wrong understanding of me that I tell all.

Guess what?

They couldn't be more wrong about me.

I am the keeper of many people's secrets.

I didn't talk about it because talking about it wouldn't fix it.  I'd spent fifteen years trying to figure out how to fix it, to understand it, to find a way to beat it.  I didn't talk about it because I couldn't afford for anyone to lack empathy for me.  I went through it, alone.

I painted some of my best work during that time, home alone, Jesus Culture playing in the background, talking to God and growing in grace.

The last night he was home, was the first time I completely lost it.  I'd been patient and kind, never accusing, never condemning, never raising my voice, always trying to help him stand back up.  I'd had enough.  

The dog had never heard me yell at anyone but him and the poor thing kept going to get in his cage, confused about who was actually in trouble.

Where's the car you ask?

Sitting underneath his mother's car porch,  189 miles away in Georgia, side mirror hanging off, one side of the bumper hanging down, a window in the back busted out, garbage all in the floors.  I'm still making payments on it every month.

Where is he?

Who cares!

I spent fifteen years worrying about him, feeling bad for him, trying to find a way to make him better.

Nothing worked.

I'm not God, I can't fix anyone, not even myself.

I believed and still believe for his miracle.

He's been gone a year next month and I've never ever been happier in my life.

Not ever!

My life has become this beautiful disaster of me, healing for me, grace for me, all the good stuff for me.

I am free.

He still calls once in a while but I let it go to voice mail because there's really no reason to chat one another up and being friends is out of the question because I never could tell him no.  Being friends would only give him room to manipulate me and my heart and do his best to get back in, when there is no place for him to get back into.

Don't get me wrong, he's a wonderful person, would give you the shirt off his back, I've seen him do it.  He's just got something that he's not willing to fix.

He's never been mean to me in an outright way, never put his hands on me, and when he's clean he's the most thoughtful person in the world.  The problem is he's high more than he's clean.  The problem is I don't matter when he's high.

In the year since he left my life has exploded with beauty.

Hunter Gossett has been here with me, my children have returned to me, my ministry has grown and there's no sadness in me that he's gone and it's not going to work out.

I'm becoming who I was meant to be all along and there is no one to hinder my path, or knock me off course.

My Daddy is romancing me.

He's giving me beauty for my ashes.

Isaiah 61:1-3 New International Version (NIV)

The Year of the Lord’s Favor

61 The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is on me,
    because the Lord has anointed me
    to proclaim good news to the poor.
He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted,
    to proclaim freedom for the captives
    and release from darkness for the prisoners,[a]
2 to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor
    and the day of vengeance of our God,
to comfort all who mourn,
3     and provide for those who grieve in Zion—
to bestow on them a crown of beauty
    instead of ashes,
the oil of joy
    instead of mourning,
and a garment of praise
    instead of a spirit of despair.
They will be called oaks of righteousness,
    a planting of the Lord
    for the display of his splendor.