I've been wondering for several days whether or not I would blog about this. In the end I decided not to, but here I am with the little boys in bed and the big boy at a meeting, and what else to do but share with the whole world what's in my head? Nothing, except a small pile of dishes, but Isaac always washes dishes.
So what's the big deal? Well, five years ago today, at approximately 9:30am, I got divorced. Just 8 days after my 25th birthday, that's one-sixth of my life ago -- a good long time, really. And yet the details are so clear in my mind:
*There were huge traffic jams on all of the highways because of a shoot-out between two cars on I-75.
*It was very sunny, and I wore a new coral-colored sleeveless top with a band of sequins across the bottom.
*I had to traipse all over the courthouse, signing different documents in different rooms.
*It was the day after my becoming-ex's birthday, and I kept wondering if I should say something. (I did not.)
*The judge asked me twice if I was pregnant. (I was not.)
Walking back to the car with my parents afterwards, I kept thinking about that judge. What an awful job it must be, to sit in a small room day after day and dissolve marriages. Three years later, bulging belly warm with gel, as Isaac and I got our first glimpse of Levi at 20 weeks' gestation, I thought about that judge again, in comparison to the ultrasound tech. What a wonderful job that must be, to sit in a small room day after day and see human life in its earliest stages.
From the courthouse, my parents took me to the mall: retail therapy at its finest, with free rein to update my wardrobe on their dime. (That's the day I found out that my dad is unbelievably good at picking out women's clothes.) Also on Mom's agenda was a new ring, a "right-hand ring" to soften the blow of removing that big ol' diamond. She had another diamond in mind, but I was drawn to a pearl. "What's the celebration?" the jeweler asked, and I couldn't find the answer. "She just turned 25," my mom supplied. Oh right . . . my birthday. This year -- five years later, my 30th -- Mom bought me a pearl necklace to match the ring.
Just a collection of memories that could have happened to anyone, really. Five years is a long time.
P.S. These last dozen or so chapters that I've been studying of Isaiah -- 54 especially, but also 61, 62 -- are saturated with images of a people, a young bride, once forsaken but never more. These are words that sink deep into my soul, that heal the wounds of betrayal, that enable me to look to my Lord and to my husband and know that my future is secure: not predictable, not foreseeable, but secure. I have so much -- so much -- to be grateful for.
So what's the big deal? Well, five years ago today, at approximately 9:30am, I got divorced. Just 8 days after my 25th birthday, that's one-sixth of my life ago -- a good long time, really. And yet the details are so clear in my mind:
*There were huge traffic jams on all of the highways because of a shoot-out between two cars on I-75.
*It was very sunny, and I wore a new coral-colored sleeveless top with a band of sequins across the bottom.
*I had to traipse all over the courthouse, signing different documents in different rooms.
*It was the day after my becoming-ex's birthday, and I kept wondering if I should say something. (I did not.)
*The judge asked me twice if I was pregnant. (I was not.)
Walking back to the car with my parents afterwards, I kept thinking about that judge. What an awful job it must be, to sit in a small room day after day and dissolve marriages. Three years later, bulging belly warm with gel, as Isaac and I got our first glimpse of Levi at 20 weeks' gestation, I thought about that judge again, in comparison to the ultrasound tech. What a wonderful job that must be, to sit in a small room day after day and see human life in its earliest stages.
From the courthouse, my parents took me to the mall: retail therapy at its finest, with free rein to update my wardrobe on their dime. (That's the day I found out that my dad is unbelievably good at picking out women's clothes.) Also on Mom's agenda was a new ring, a "right-hand ring" to soften the blow of removing that big ol' diamond. She had another diamond in mind, but I was drawn to a pearl. "What's the celebration?" the jeweler asked, and I couldn't find the answer. "She just turned 25," my mom supplied. Oh right . . . my birthday. This year -- five years later, my 30th -- Mom bought me a pearl necklace to match the ring.
Just a collection of memories that could have happened to anyone, really. Five years is a long time.
P.S. These last dozen or so chapters that I've been studying of Isaiah -- 54 especially, but also 61, 62 -- are saturated with images of a people, a young bride, once forsaken but never more. These are words that sink deep into my soul, that heal the wounds of betrayal, that enable me to look to my Lord and to my husband and know that my future is secure: not predictable, not foreseeable, but secure. I have so much -- so much -- to be grateful for.
P.S. I win. (Isaac)
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