Today happened

Since I was a little girl I have dreamed about writing a book. I am now in my mid-thirties and my book has yet to be written. I have a million excuses as to why my book has not been written, but in the end, none of them really matter.

Last week, I sat down to have coffee with a friend and her mother. After an hour and a half of catching up, my friend said something that I haven't been able to get out of my head. She said, “God didn't bring you through so that you could have your happily ever after. There's more. He's more.” (Sidebar – real friends are not afraid to smack you upside the head sometimes. Figuratively speaking, of course).

That one simple, profound, beautiful and messy sentence has flipped my whole world upside down.

I left the coffee shop resolved to start blogging again. I have written countless blog entries in my head and numerous introductions to my book and not one of them has made it onto paper. I found inspiration in beautiful book covers and the Christmas season and little life lessons that could be captioned with a photo. All of them were Insta-perfect and none of them were right and I spent another week of my life not writing.

And then today happened.

This morning I woke up knowing that I needed to talk to my children about something that would make at least three out of five of them unhappy. See, although you might look at my Instagram account and not realize it, I have an ugly, dirty, little secret that no Christian woman ever wants to admit to anyone. I'm divorced. AND (sit down on your pew and take a deep breath) I'm also happily remarried (like over the moon, ecstatically happy remarried). AND we have children. Five of them between the two of us. AND my ex-husband was a pastor. The story is part of my journey and I'm sure I'll get around to writing all about it, but for now this story is about my morning.

My ex-husband called a couple of days ago to let me know that his work plans had changed and he wouldn't be available during his scheduled time with the kids next week. This has happened a lot lately. Their time with their dad has been messed with a lot because of a new job he recently started. Don't get me wrong...that job is an answer to prayer. My ex-husband might not know it, but I have prayed for his job situation for a year and I believe with all my heart that our prayers were answered. But what I didn't expect was that the job would mean my babies hearts would be broken because their daddy was gone all the time. Just when the children were used to their schedule and having both parents around regularly, life flipped them off and now they don't get to see their daddy as often as they would like to see him. They still see him often, but it's different and their schedule is different and it's confusing and frustrating for them.

So I told my boys that they would stay with me next week but that we could definitely try to find a way to make sure they got more time with their dad. I watched my 11-year old sons shoulders sag, my 9-year old get tears in his eyes, and my 13-year old got that hard, stone-cold, nobody-can-ever-hurt-me-cause-I'm-too-tough look on his face...and my heart broke all over again.

My heart did not break in the way it does when I see sad news stories on my Facebook feed. My heart didn't break the way it did when my ex-husband walked out the door or the way it did when my childhood best friend died from cancer.

My heart broke in a way that wrecked me. I don't even want to use the phrase “my heart broke” because it seems too trite and insipid to describe what happens to me when the effects of my divorce hurt my children.

What happens is that my stomach wrenches so hard that I feel physical pain. My throat closes up and almost chokes me. I use all my strength to hold myself together so that my kids can have a mother who can hug them and reassure them and be strong rather than falling to the pieces in front of them. My mind assaults me with guilt and shame because my broken marriage continues to hurt my babies again and again and again. I have forgiven my ex and I have forgiven others but right now, when I look at my hurting children, I can't forgive myself.

We packed up their backpacks and I drove them to school knowing that the burdens on their small shoulders were feeling extra heavy today. I held it together and prayed for them before they got out of the van and I barely made it home before the flood of tears came pouring out.

I was such an emotional wreck that I don't think I should have been driving. I pulled the van into my garage and dissolved into a flood of tears. I cried out to Jesus the pain and the anger and the guilt and the injustice of it all. I got mad at Him and myself and my ex and the world. And I asked him to stitch us all back together again.

The crazy thing is that He already has stitched us back together. In the past five years I have watched God work miracles in me and my kids. So many hurts have been healed and so many relationships mended. But like I said before, divorce is ugly and if you let it, it will continue to hurt you. It will wreck you. It will destroy every good thing in your life. I learned a while ago that the hurt will turn to anger and the anger will turn to bitterness and the bitterness will eat you alive...if you let it. That's the key right there...somehow, somewhere, you have to NOT LET IT. And the only way to not let it happen is to share that burden with someone strong enough to help you carry it. To find the hope, the light, the grace, the mercy, the kindness that is Jesus.

When I was done my ugly cry with Jesus, I tried to ignore the still, small voice that was whispering “Today is the day. Write this.”. I listened and replied:

Dear God,

Today is not the day to start writing. There is nothing instagrammable or hashtag worthy about my life today. I am sitting on the couch with puffy eyes and a runny nose and I have absolutely nothing quotable to say.

Love, Rachelle

But The Voice didn't go away and I finally started to write and this is what you get.

My simple, profound, beautifully messy life.