It has been longer than I thought it had been since I've sat down to blog.
A couple of months ago I wrote a guest blog trying to make people understand that men who have sex with young girls don't always look like monsters or "low lifes" That they often look like the guy who goes to work every day, come home to their families, go to church. I wanted people to understand the impact of a man's choice on his family, the idea that we must be aware of who creates the demand so we can create accountability and resources that help these men struggling with sexual sin. I'd wanted to write it a long time. It practically wrote itself. I believe the impact was what I'd hoped to some degree or the other. To be honest, I put it out there and let God do what He wanted with it.
What I didn't anticipate is what it would do to me emotionally and mentally. In writing it, I had to share things and in sharing those things, started reliving memories I don't often dwell on...and the thing that got me was it wasn't the bad times that I focused on the most, it was the good. And it broke my heart.
People tend to look at me and see a very confident, independent woman who is perfectly content to be single for the rest of her life and for the most part, most days...that is exactly what I am. I am fully aware of the amazing support system of friends we have-many who are more like family. I'm aware that we get more opportunities to experiences some of the coolest things than most people. I know that the fact I love my job as much as I do and I get to be a part of something so awesome is something to thank God for everyday.
But I never actually meant to do this alone. I liked being married. I like the idea of having someone by your side, being by theirs. I had never meant to not have that and in reliving those times, became once more aware that I'd lost something. That I was disappointed and hurt by that loss.
It threw me and I was depressed for a couple of weeks. Watching Crazy, Stupid Love (a very good movie, BTW) had me on my bathroom floor sobbing. My kids were kind of worried. I was pretty successful at hiding it from everyone else. I prayed a lot, wrote in my journal. Confessed to God that I was angry and felt cheated. Came to the place where I put it back in His hands and praised Him for everything He has given us. Started to feel better...
And about the time I was feeling inspired to write again, I got a phone call at work. My Dad had had a stroke. I knew by the time I got to the hospital that it was bad. The stroke destroyed most of his brain and had he made it, he would have been a shadow of himself, laying in a bed at a nursing home with a feeding tube. But the whole time I refused to quite take what the doctors were saying as truth. As if, if I believed what they were saying, then I had given up on my Dad and that would be the end of any chance he had of making it. Even when they told us he wouldn't make it through the day, I said he would at least do that just to prove them wrong. It's the first time my Dad didn't put up a fight.
If the world were perfect or this was a movie, my Dad would've woken up long enough to tell me he loved me, that he was glad I was his daughter. I would have told him that I loved him with all my heart and despite everything we'd been through, I would've picked him as my Dad over any other choice. The world is not perfect and my life is not a movie. I've told my Dad on more than one occasion that I've forgiven him, that I love him...I just wish I'd had one more chance.
So for the past few weeks, I've been working through my grief. Little by little, I'm doing better. Grief is sneaky so I can be having a perfectly good day and somehow find myself crying. Little things, like a character in a movie who keeps a toothpick in his mouth, can make me think of him. One day I thought "I'm not ready for this" and for just a few minutes, allowed myself to think of him like he was still here. Like I could call him and hear him say "Hey now" and before he hung up the phone tell me "love you bunches". Last week I made it through the whole Wednesday without thinking "It's been four weeks" but today I thought "It's been five" We honored my Dad's wishes. He was cremated. We haven't followed through with the second part of his wish but my Aunt mentioned it the other day. We're starting to think about it. We're almost ready.
Anyway...there you have it. And now I'm ready to write again. It is all muddled in my brain. I'll probably date the posts at appropriate times, so that you are caught up on what's going on with us as a family, with Wellspring, etc. Hopefully I'll be up to date by the end of next week and can blog in "real time" again. Thanks to those of you who know us, have been praying for us, sent your sympathy, etc. I'm so blessed to have you, to have people who bother to read what I think/write.
It's good to be "back"