The Box

The box came the other day. It had the few items I couldn't pack in my suitcase the night I left.

It came without writing. Not even the address label was hand-written. No note inside.

He told me he would put me in a box and never think about me again.

And there it is, straight from UPS. My stuff in a box. Me in a box.

40 days to a Lifetime

Today is Ash Wednesday. The beginning of Lent. The start to the most sorrowful time of the year.

Lent is always a really hard time for me. Not for what I have to give up, but for what this time means. My faith teaches me that Lent ends with the Holy Tridium; the three most holy days of the Liturgical year. Those three days before Easter, Christ is removed from the Church and everything bearing His image is covered. It is a real reminder to me of His death, and some years it hurts so much I can't breathe.

This year Lent takes on a whole new meaning. Finding something to give up certainly wasn't difficult. But giving over the pain and frustration in my heart was.

I've sulked about because I was rejected. For whatever reason I can give or can never explain, I was rejected by the one I loved.

And so Lent got closer.

A dear spiritual mentor spoke with me last night. I finally admitted my anger with the Lord for not stopping me from loving the man who didn't choose me.

And so Lent came.

I yelled at the God of creation for allowing this cup to pass through my hands.

And so Lent was real.

Lent is a hard time but it is a necessary time. It is 40 days of making yourself one with the cross. Something we should do every day but during Lent, it takes on a life of its own. This spiritual mentor happens to be a Deacon at my Church. He gently reminded me of the full weight and purpose of the Cross.

If you asked Christ, while being crucified, if He loved Judas, His answer would be a resounding "yes." Each time He fell, He loved Judas. He loved knowing He would be betrayed and rejected.

As matter of fact, He stills loves Judas.

Just as He still loves me.

Obama

No, not the president, the rooster.

A couple of months ago these two roosters adopted my parents. They literally starting camping out in Mom and Dad's backyard. Since the nation was getting new occupants at 1600, my parents decided Michelle and Obama were good names for said roosters. And being the good ark-keepers that they are, Mom and Dad started feeding them. So they stayed. And crowed. And roosted. Did I mention they crowed, a lot?

About a week ago, either Michelle or Obama (no one's really sure about this detail) was killed by a hawk. Out of respect to the office, they decided Obama was still alive.

For the past week, that darned rooster stood on the front porch and crowed. And crowed. And crowed. The biggest fit I've ever seen a rooster throw.

It seems he was seeing his reflection in the glass door and thought his other half was still there.


I know exactly how he feels.

Good News, Bad News, Who Is To Say?

At church this morning with my family, the minister preached an incredible sermon on the necessary things. It was such a blessing to my soul to hear his message delivered without judgement and full of love. He is retiring next week and will greatly be missed.

Per usual, I digress.

He told a beautiful story about life's happenings with a farmer in China. Events ebbed and flowed through the story and at each turn of fate, the farmer looked to Heaven and said "Good news, bad news, who is to say?"

Each piece of this man's story could only be understood within the rest of his story.

It pierced my soul.

Good news, bad news, the Lord is still sovereign, still loving, and still on His throne.

And still holds me in the hollow of His hand.

I am every woman...really?

I spent last night talking with a beautiful, powerful, and amazing friend of mine. We shared the same lost dreams and have cried the same tears.

But the thing I couldn't get over, we both are incredibly successful in our chosen fields. We both worked at the tops of our games at such a young age. And we both found ourselves hiding our lights when it came to relationships.

Why?

Why do we, and by we I mean every woman who hasn't let her light shine in the homeplace like she does in the workplace, think we will be loved less?

In complete truth, he never asked me to dimmer my intelligence, my laughter, my dreams. I would like to think had I ever verbalized my thoughts, he would have been offended. But I thought I had to do just that.

I was wrong. I am intelligent, funny, and the way I view the world is perfectly okay because that's the way I have been created. To think any less, to act any differently, to hide even one fiber of the way we have been knit together is nothing short of sinful.

His plan for women has always been mighty. And I cling to being every woman. Every woman who has been here, who has overcome, and who has found herself at the foot of the cross.

And who has been redeemed.

Yes...but

I am fairly certain that in the last 4 days of my life, I have uttered those two words almost more than others. Except for the Monday night in the hotel when I kept crying out to the Lord "you're sovereign"- my neighbors must have loved me. All week, these amazing women have cried with me, prayed with me, been angry with me, and overcome with shock with me. And each time they hear the story, they look into my heart and say "aren't you glad then the Lord brought you out?"

Yes, I am...but I still miss him.
Yes, I am glad I didn't marry him...but I still love him.
Yes, I know the Lord must have something better...but I knew it was him.

Yes...but.

My dad asked me some really humbling questions yesterday about the relationship and how it ended. I still don't have any answers. I still want to pick up the phone, call his office, and let him have it for being so cruel. But it wouldn't do me any good and I doubt he'd take my call. So i'm left doing what I should do all along, asking for the grace to get through this one moment right now.

And yes, I know I will get through this...but it still wounds.

Blessings

I have been overwhelmed by the amount of people who love me. I know how attemptedly humble that sounds, but it is true. I had no idea I wasn't invisible to so many, that I mattered to so many, that so many hurt with me.

And it's the most amazing ways I find myself blessed. My car, my sweet, messy, never been washed car is now clean. I always thought he would do it- he always promised to do it- but never made time for it. And now, one of my amazing girlfriends cleaned my car- inside and out.

The little reminders- I am being taken care of- in the big and the small that make this process a little easier.

I am so very blessed.

Hello...

I'm a writer. Both for a living and to make it through the messy pages of my heart, I write. Lately, I have found myself writing in my head just to make it one day at a time. So many women, and a few men, are walking with me, standing in the gap for me, during this time of my heart's brokenness, that I invite y'all to journey with me. Grab your Starbucks decaf skinny latte, Jenn, or your six shot expresso, Dad, and sit a spell with my soul.

For those of you who don't know the whole story, the details are not relevant. Know a relationship I cherished, I trusted, I dreamed towards is no longer. As of now, I am broken. But I have faith that at some point, I will move past being broken and move into a new chapter of my heart.

I mourn the loss of so many things and I catch myself remembering so few hours ago when my heart seemed so happily attached to another. I mourn the loss of the family we would have, the beach wedding, the forever of love I was promised.

But now, oh but now I am clinging in complete thanks, to the Father of my footsteps, who has spared me from a fate I doubt I will ever fully name.