Life. Life is so dark right now. It's this thick, soupy blackness that, like an oil spill in a pristine ocean, covers and sickens everything good and beautiful. Circumstances have never looked more hopeless, and I feel like as soon as I manage to scrub off some of the oil, a new wave covers me even more completely than before.
I don't know how to keep my head above it. All I can do is call out to Jesus in my distress. And He answers, He always does, He gives me encouragement or rest so that I can keep swimming, but what I really want is for Him to scoop me up into his arms and take me away from all of it. To be taken care of in a tangible way. A way that I haven't been taken care of in so long.
Marriage is supposed to be a picture of Christ's love for us here on earth. It's something that we are supposed to be able to count on as believers. That someone will love us no matter how messy, how broken, how feeble and weak we are. It's a promise, an eternally binding one, that no matter what- two people will fight for each other and with each other against everything. I never ever doubted that that was what I had. Someone that would see through the mess when I fell apart, set aside his pride, or his expectations for a while, bend down, and gently pull me up into his arms. Someone that would tell me "You're worth it, Copper. You're worth the fight. You're worth the effort. You're worth the pain. You're worth it all, because I love you."
But people are broken. People lie. People cheat. People steal. People let you down in ways you could never even imagine. People are sinful.
It's hard to put into words what I am feeling. What I am going through. Because, while I am an ever-open book, and while I want to let it all out and spill my guts, there's another broken person involved in this whole mess that, no matter how much I feel let down or hurt by, I still love him more than anyone else. Life is funny that way. Well, maybe funny isn't quite the right world choice... but life is perpetually messy that way.
So this blog is going to be for me to look back on someday. Maybe my kids will look back on it too. Maybe you'll read along, I don't know. I just know that I have to keep track of what God does in this time of utter brokenness. Because He is moving and working, I know He is, but sometimes I am just too focused on my circumstances to look at Him.
So here's the deal. The crappy, messy, broken deal.
Nick and I are separated right now. It was out of no-where for me, but not for him. I don't know what the future holds. It's never been so uncertain. I know only where I am at.
I want restoration and healing. I want to fight for what matters. Family. Love. A covenant that shouldn't be broken by any man.
I don't know if that is what my future holds. I pray unceasingly that it is. But here's what I do know. As alone as I feel right now, as betrayed, abandoned, and tired as I feel- God wasn't taken by surprise by all of this like I was. He was ready. I believe that this is why our house didn't sell this summer. He knew. He was protecting us. Protecting me. Protecting our kids. A bigger house with a bigger mortgage would have been a stone tied around our neck in the midst of all of this. He knew. He's taking care of me.
After all, He says in Matthew 10 "
I am of more value than many sparrows.
Nights are hard for me. They are quiet, lonely, and far too full of my own thoughts. So if you notice darkness coming from me on social media at night, that's why. I'm broken. In a million tiny pieces. I've never felt so much pain, uncertainty, betrayal... the list goes on. But in the midst of the darkness Jesus is here. He's in small gestures, the worship of my three year old daughter, the light of my son's smiles. He is teaching me to look not at the night, at the darkness all around, but at the light ahead of me, no matter how faint it looks.
I fail at that a lot. A lot. I'm sinful, broken, and angry. I'm hurting, and often illogical. I'm having a hard time seeing how He can work any of this for good, but I know that He will. He promised, after all, to work all things for good for those who love Him. It may not be the good I would choose, but he will work it all for good.
In the mean time, I'm going to pour out my fragmented heart, because I can't help but feel that someday this part of my life will provide me with the words or compassion to minister to someone else who is hurting. I'm going to try to proclaim the goodness of God in the midst of desolation. I'm going to speak out into the world that His light, His promises, His love is enough. Everything else is secondary. Everything else just adds to the beauty, but it's not the meaning of life. My marriage isn't what makes my life worth living. My husband isn't the one who should bring my heart meaning and fulfillment. If he is and has been those things, it's because I've made him an idol. And if I'm being honest, I had. And I'm sure he'd done the same with me. And God loves us both too much to let that continue. I hope we can both re-find the Lord as center, as all, as life. But as for me, I'm determined. And what else can I do? What else do I have? What else do I have to offer my children if I don't?
Sin sucks. The devil sucks. I hate them both. I hate my sin. I hate what sin has done to something so beautiful. The constant warfare. The constant attacks.
But the thing is, sin and the devil, they don't win. And they won't win this one. The battle is the Lord's. And so am I. So is my husband. So are my children. One day I will look back on this first entry and praise God for His provision. One day I will look back and thank Him for the works He has done in my life out of this heartbreak. And that deserves to be documented, because it's all too easy to forget how truly and unfailingly faithful God is, even when we are faithless. Maybe especially when we are faithless.
I covet your prayers, if you feel led. To lose my love is something I never imagined. To raise my children in a broken home is something I would never in a million years have thought would be our reality. And it doesn't have to be. God has this. But I'll certainly not scoff at extra prayers. Some nights I can't find the strength to say them myself, but I know others stand in the gap for me in those moments. Because God is faithful.
And that's what I'm clinging to. That the darkness and the light are alike to Him. Both bow to Him. Both obey Him. Neither is out of His reach. And neither are we. Praise God.