Do Something

Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don’t know how to replenish its source. It dies of blindness, errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds. It dies of weariness, of withering, of tarnishing.

– Anais Nin

I looked at these words sent to me in a text by my husband last week. My first thought was beautifully sad. Melancholy, something we both understand. That was my reply. He asked if an alternative would be better and my heart did backflips like an olympic gymnast fighting for gold. However, my feet have been glued to the mat like a clutz.

Fear of rejection has me frozen. I’m unsure of what to say or do. I can’t visit unannounced even though we’re married. I no longer know what to say to a person I used to talk to for hours. I want to run, leap and stick the landing, but I don’t know how.

James 2:24 So you see that people that are made right with God by what they do, not by faith only.

For the last six months I have been praying like I belong in a monastery. I have a prayer journal, prayers on notepad, prayers on post-its or scratch paper and notebooks. Prayers are everywhere! I thought if I could just find enough faith for a miracle it would all be ok.

DO SOMETHING

It was like hearing James Earl Jones on loud speaker. I suspiciously looked around the room. Naturally I was the only one God could’ve been talking to. Ever met a Christian that says they are waiting on the Lord for everything? I generally go in the other direction, but separation is a special case. I’ve been killing time with folded hands.

Doing something requires vulnerability. Vulnerability is terrifying. It’s like me sitting through a horror fest and the last scary movie I saw was Nightmare on Elm Street. Then the heavenly chorus sings the hook to Brave by Sara Bareilles. Say what you wanna say and let the words come out. I still love you and I don’t want a divorce! Honestly I wanna see you be brave. Can we please fix this? I don’t want to join the American divorce statistics.

Today is my eighth anniversary. I gave the signal that I was ready. With trembling hands and skipped heartbeats I told my husband happy anniversary. Four hours later I got the same wish back. I did a big exhale! I’m on baby steps, but my hands are unfolded and I’m going to try and move us out of this tragic situation. I hope he’s willing to do the same.

Happy Valentine’s Day!