School starts this week. I sure am going to miss my little guy running around here all day. It seems like school has such a short break nowadays. We used to be out from Memorial Day to Labor Day. They get out earlier in Georgia, but they go back the first week in August. It seems like there is no real summer. As he goes back, I really need to get back to work too. I’ve been slacking off on my writing. My excuse was I no longer had a publisher, and nobody seems to care whether I write or not. The truth is that doesn’t matter. God has called me to write, and as long as He leaves me here on this earth, I’m to be a writer.
I can take a vacation though. Last weekend I was in North Carolina with my friend Krystal. We spent four days swimming and hiking. I definitely got my exercise in. Saturday, we hiked to two waterfalls and to the top of Hanging Rock. Who do we see there, but my ex-husband and his girlfriend. What are the odds of that? Any statisticians out there?
I fell as Krystal and I came down the mountain. A bunch of young people and teenagers stopped, tended my minor wounds, and helped me down the rest of the way. Their kindness and attention was a gentle reminder of God’s faithful love. I’ve had so many of those in my life.
Don’t you love the way God does that? The first Mother’s Day after Kara died, a rose bush bloomed in my back yard that had never bloomed before. When we went to spread her ashes, nine butterflies came and feasted on them. Long before that, when Wade and I were struggling financially when the two older kids were small (before Kara was born), God sent yellow bricks as an underpinning for our yellow mobile home. They were exactly what we wanted even though our prayer was for the money to buy them, not for the bricks themselves. God bypassed the middle man.
He knows our needs before we know them ourselves. As a small child, my next door neighbor started taking me to church with her. I didn’t have a great childhood, and God knew I needed Him early in my life. I hardly remember a time He wasn’t there. That doesn’t mean I don’t know when I was saved. I definitely do. It means that long before that, He was already there, teaching me to love Him, teaching me I could trust Him, showing me what love is. I didn’t even know that.
My parents never loved each other. Or maybe they did once, long before I was born. My dad did love us, but he didn’t seem to know how to show it when we were young. He worked hard all his life. He provided for us well. But until he married Sandy, my stepmother, I never saw him hug or kiss anyone. That’s not true. He and my mom did kiss once, right before their divorce, when he was being installed as Monarch of his lodge, but it wasn’t much of a kiss, definitely not the kind movie legends are made of. Still, it gave me hope—a hope that was soon quashed.
For years, I thought I had escaped that curse. I thought I had the perfect love, the perfect marriage. I should have known there is no such thing. God’s love is the only perfect love. We’re human. We fail. He never does.
My divorce and my daughter’s death is the darkest time in my life. It was hard to see through to the light of His love. But even then, I knew that He had not forsaken me. He kept sending those little reminders. Thank You, Lord, for Your faithful Love.