I was married for twenty-five years... well, just shy by two weeks. I like the number 25: it's too bad we didn't make it there; it's too bad we didn't make it to twenty-five times two. It's too bad.
Sometimes I wonder if I can repair what was. What if I had paid better attention, said the right things, been more understanding, less caustic, more supportive... or made his favourite things to eat and liked karaoke as much as he did. Then I say to myself "Na, that wouldn't have done the trick."
Do you recall a time, back when you were young and dumb, and believed "Love, love will keep us together", Captain & Tennille style? What I didn't know when I was Y & D (young and dumb) is how important values are. Attraction takes a major back seat, and a person can become repugnant, when what matters the most to us, is maligned by them. And this cuts both ways: you too, can become repulsive in your disagreeableness.
I had no idea my former husband was, and chances are, still is, an extreme extravert! When we were married, he loved getting things done, being out and about, socializing. I, on the other hand, enjoy these things too, but on a limited basis. I guard my time and energy so as to be fully available when in company, but I know my limits and what I need to do to be balanced, recharged and ready, to face another bout of peoplie activities.
I get my energy from time alone, thinking, reading, writing, being with God... imagine my surprise as a Y & D bride, when I discovered the man I committed to, got his energy out there in the world, with all its hubbub, excitement, and earthly pleasures. My former husband was a sweet man in countless ways and every March, I long for that one man, one woman married feeling... but we were so very different, and divergence pulled us apart. We parted ways in April of 2017, and as spring approaches with winter lingering, I remember what the death of a relationship feels like.
On my best days, I say "Good riddance, I am better off without you." On my saddest days, I recall little gifts, playful poems written on scraps of paper, and him teaching me how to tie a tie... "Those were the days my friend, we thought they'd never end; we'd sing and dance, forever and a day... We'd live the life we'd choose, we'd fight and never lose, for we were young, and sure to have our way."
As I get older, I appreciate the thens and the nows of life. The me that was, reconciling with the me of now. I am no longer young and dumb, I am that other thing, older and wiser. I prefer O & W over Y & D... it feels kinder, softer, and gentle somehow. I can reflect without feeling as though I must condemn him or accuse me... and isn't that wonderful, dear reader?
I have a new love that I have learned and am learning still. It doesn't force a fix, demand a change, or impose a will. It is a giving of myself to correction, to redirection, and submitting to God's redemptive and curative power. He loves each human way more than we do, dear one, and sometimes, from a distance, we can learn to love like He does, wishing the person well, even if we never see them or speak to them again in this life time. That is the most painful part, isn't it? Loving someone and never being able to show them or tell them... hoping they are ok, or better yet, fantastic, even without us?
Even without us... for we were young, and sure to have our way...
I wish for heaven sometimes, and hope to be reunited with people there that I have been disconnected from. In eternity, hearts are whole and healed, hands are held, and the love of Christ is the God glue that unifies the previously bruised and broken.
I hope for what wasn't possible here, to happen there, in God's Kingdom.
Psalm 39:7 And now, Lord, what wait I for? my hope is in thee
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