T-shirt is spelled LOVE

I don't pretend to think that everyone who reads what I write believes the way I do. And that's ok.
I don't believe in coincidences, and I've had some pretty amazing things happen to me over the last year and a half.  If I wasn't sure of God's existence before walking this ragged road of struggle, I would believe in him now.

Here's a story of just one tiny way I felt noticed by God.  More than noticed; loved. adored. delighted in.

My church had a clothing give away a couple of weeks ago.  It's an amazing endeavor and with more than 500 volunteers, more than 1000 man hours worth of work, and an incredible feat of organization, they are able to take in thousands of articles of clothing and shoes and sort them into gender types and sizes and put them out in such a way that the community can come in and 'shop' for what they need without paying a dime.

I went one day to help with the set-up process.  I wound up working my way through several huge trash bags of donated clothing and purged the torn and stained items, while smoothing and folding and sorting the good ones.  I worked with another woman and we enjoyed chatting and watching with amazement as the stacks of clothing grew around us. We weren't permitted to 'shop' before hand to ensure that the community had a fair chance at everything donated.  I was pleased to see so many really good items in the bags.  At one point, I came across a dark grey Banana Republic shirt with a sheer ribbon collar. It was my size. I held it up in front of me and said to the girl I was working with- "If I were tempted to take anything, it would be this shirt.  I love it!"  She nodded in agreement and held up a beautiful dress in her size.  We were so pleased that so much of what had been given was name brand and good quality.

I had planned on going to the event. But the day before, I started getting cold feet.  While I could use some more clothing ( as I had lost weight over the last 18 months, and also purged a lot) and Ivy had just grown up into the next size meaning we had nothing for her, I was hesitant.  I knew I needed things, but I have seen my needs so creatively provided for that I didn't want to go and take away from a family who might need it more.  However, as I was climbing into bed that night, I really felt that I was to go.  I felt as if God was whispering.. why can't I provide for you too?  I was still hesitant, but made a deal... if I woke up in time, I would go.

Yep.
I woke up.
In plenty of time.

I headed over to get in line.  As I entered the room filled with thousands upon thousands of pieces of clothing I was overwhelmed. I had anticipated chaos with people grabbing everything in sight, but instead there was peace.  Excitement.  Generosity.  A friend of mine was volunteering and found me behind mountains of clothing.  She asked if she could help me search for what I needed.  I sent her off to gather an armful of items for Ivy, and as she deposited them into my bag, she asked if she could look for me. I told her my size and off she went.  She came back later and added to my stash.  I left after an hour of shopping with a heavy bag and a much lighter heart.  Seeing the group in action giving to the community in such a beautiful and practical way was a gift to me.

I headed home to sort through the clothing and put the items into my laundry baskets.  As I was enjoying seeing all the things my friend had pulled for us, I grabbed a dark item.  I pulled it out of the pile and the realization overwhelmed me.  The shirt.  The very shirt I wanted.  The tiny, single item out of the bazillion pieces in that space had found its way to my bag.  My friend, who had no idea about the shirt, had seen it and thought of me. It was a gift to me straight from the heart of God.

I have pages of moments like this listed in a notebook I started keeping that remind me that I am not forgotten.  Living life as a single mother has been the most difficult thing I have ever done, and yet not many days or weeks go by without an addition to my notebook of a special way I am shown that I am loved.  I feel unworthy of the attention by the God of the universe and yet... also so comforted.  Just as I love seeing my own children smile when they are given good things, I am now experiencing being on the receiving end.  I love getting to share these stories.  They are the sliver linings to my dark clouds, the smile in the midst of tears, the awareness that not one moment of my journey is missed or being experienced alone.  That realization is what gives me the strength to get out of bed each day and believe that this isn't the end of my story.  I'm so thankful for the bright places as I walk out of this dark tunnel. Coincidence?  Not a chance.

The quest to belonging

I've started many posts over the last couple of weeks... and I just haven't been able to finish out my thoughts.
But, I did manage to write an article for Catapult magazine and it went up this morning- I would love for you to go and read me there!

https://www.catapultmagazine.com/belonging/article/a-different-kind-of-mom


The topic they were looking for was about belonging.  I wrote about my journey into finding where I belong as a mother.
The quest to belong is one we all take, and eventually, if we can settle into our own paths, we find where we fit.  Come read about my journey into belonging.

Baby Steps Forward

I have tried several times to start a post and then can't get it out the way I want to.  A lot has happened, and I'm emotionally tired.

I told the kids last week about their Dad and I getting divorced.
It went... ok.
How good can that moment go?  I prayed a lot before, during, and after. I'm painfully aware that this will be a moment that is forever seared into their memories and I wanted to control it as much as possible.  I wanted to do it in a beautiful outdoor sanctuary.  But.. it's been so cold. The kids were starting to ask hard questions, and I couldn't keep avoiding it... so I drove to the place, but we had to stay in the car. It was.. anticlimactic.  It was hard. It was one of the hardest things I've ever done. But we lived.
As I have moved through my grief, the hardest part of this process has been watching my children hurt. It's been doubly hard because I haven't shared many details with them. I talk about it as much as I can, but I am very careful to protect them from many of the details because I want to preserve their relationships with their Dad.  The hard part is that there isn't a lot for them to cling to in way of understanding because the details are too ugly for me to share.  I struggle to find the words to satiate their curiosity and hurt while still preserving their innocence. It's an awful place to be and I pray often that God would give them peace in those broken and confused places that I can't soothe.
I do talk with the kids about our circumstances fairly often.  I have learned from listening to friends of mine that many families who go through divorce do it without talking to one another.  While I'm not offering many details for my children, I am being available to answer questions, to listen, and to let them know that it's ok to hurt and to be angry. I am doing the best I can to make space for their pain and allow it to be in the open now. I'm praying that that effort will prove to be healing for them as the years go by and that it will lay a foundation of trust for them that will allow them to share with me in years to come when they are hurting as older kids or teens and processing through the pain of this divorce.

I am learning so much through this process. About myself, my children, and the utter lack of control I have over other people.  At the end of the day, we all are responsible for our own actions and behavior, and nothing I can do can change his behavior and his actions.  I've never wanted to change someone so badly in my life.... I want to 'fix' him, and 'heal' him and make it all better for my kids sake, his sake, my sake.... and yet I am powerless to do so.  To watch someone you care about make choices that harm themselves and ultimately the people they love is the most awful and powerless feeling in the world, and I am learning the ultimate lesson in letting go.

This life is so drastically different than the one I had mapped out in my head.  I sometimes feel as though I've fallen asleep and woken up in another person's life... surely this can't be my reality!  But it truly is, and as I navigate these new waters of single parenthood, and single adulthood, I am learning to fall in love with myself and also fall in love with God.  I am living in a place of complete faith and also independence at a level I've never been required to before.  I'm learning to trust myself and make hard choices that not everyone understands or likes, but are choices that need to be made for the care of my children and myself.  I'm learning that I am enjoyable, dependable, human, strong, resourceful, and motivated. I'm learning that I can do hard things.  Harder than I ever dreamed.  And I'm learning to live this life as Heather. Not as someones wife, or mother, or friend, or employee.... but as myself. And I'm learning that I really do love that girl.