A little background

 

Sometimes when I'm getting ready for bed and the house is so quiet you can almost imagine there aren't four children upstairs, I stop and wonder for a moment what it would be like if things had gone the way they were supposed to.

If in January, my heart hadn't been broken by a man who wasn't ready for the ring that was already on my finger. If the month that followed hadn't spilled over with texts I shouldn't have been faced with. If he'd been faithful. If he'd been honest about the depth of his sin, with anyone. If the most private details of my life hadn't been considered public knowledge in a town so small that I had virtually no secrets. If the next man I met hadn't disregarded me because my life, as a consequence of things out of my control, was too dramatic. If people hadn't been passing judgements. If we'd been right for each other. If I hadn't been passing judgements. If I hadn't been hating myself for not being enough. If I hadn't decided to move away, to clean my slate, to have people know about my life at my own pace instead of all at once.

But all those things did happen, and it's August, and here I am in Australia. Confident that I made the right choice in ending things, in not taking him back when he decided he'd made a mistake, in telling the truth even when it hurt even more.

If things had gone the way they were supposed to, I wouldn't be here. I'd be married, I'd be in Georgia, I'd be working a job that I hated. Instead, I'm completely at peace with the woman the Lord has created me to be, joyful in the knowledge that the man He has for me will be beyond my wildest dreams, content with myself and my worth and my identity. Instead, I'm in Australia, working a job that teaches me so much and that makes me so incredibly happy. Instead, I'm serving at Hillsong Church and building up one of the best communities I've ever known. I've learned that it's okay that this happened; we weren't what was best for each other, we didn't bring out the best in each other. I've learned that it's okay for me to say I'm happier without him, as he is without me, and that just as I will meet someone better suited for me, so will he.

Who cares that my life got a little off track? This thing, that I have fought against, kicking and screaming and agonizing over, is a part of my story. An important part. It has helped me seek the Lord more fervently, wholeheartedly understanding His goodness and mercy and desires for me. It has created in me a strong and gentle heart. It has shown me all the things about me that I loathe, and it has shown me how to change those things as I can and learn to accept them when I can't. Maybe most importantly, it has reminded me that my story isn't just about me. It is also about the people who will hear it, who can grow from it, be comforted by it, avoid mistakes because of it.

It got me here. And that is truly the way it's supposed to be.

[to that guy: thank you for allowing me to share part of our story here. thank you for not being my future. thank you for setting me free of being yours.]

On Saying Goodbye

As I move through this week, organizing and packing and preparing, I find myself noticing things that won't be part of my day-to-day life for quite some time. I have dinner with a precious friend and realize that I truly don't know when I will see her again. I choose how I spend my time carefully, knowing that soon, the things in this town that I take for granted will be on the other side of the world for a year. It's not as if I've never moved before, but there's something about being on a different continent, disconnected from literally everyone I know and everything I am accustomed to that is striking. It's like that feeling you get when you're really nervous and are suddenly too aware of where in your mouth your tongue sits naturally...but I'm feeling that way with my whole self. Not just my body, my self.

Someone asked me once what it is that makes me experience God the most, and I told him that it was feeling small. There are kaolin mines near here, and one in particular that my close friends and I enjoy frequenting. The best part, for me, is climbing to the top and standing at the edge, overlooking the clear blue pools that have formed and the surrounding trees that have yet to be chopped down for developments. It isn't just the spectacular view that I love so much, though; it's the feeling I get when I stand there - that the world is a vast place and I possess the unbearable lightness of being. I'm a speck and that just sort of takes my breath away.

This week is hard in a joyful way. I'm saying goodbye to familiarity and all its comforts and stepping forward into the empty space that the world usually occupies for me to watch, complacently, from a distance. But saying goodbye is important, because it allows us to greet something (someone) else. It allows us an endless supply of new hello's, and oh, what a wonderful flavor that is.

Here's to all the goodbye's I'm saying this week, and to all the hello's I'll use in the weeks to come.