Ahh, Thursday night. I like Thursdays. The Mr. has band practice and it's my evening to go at my own pace, turn off the television and do a few housekeeping chores. I usually crawl into bed early to spend an extra hour reading. I never leave the house, I just sort of nestle in.
I used to hate Thursdays. For our entire relationship (28 years!), the Mr. has been in a "group." A gospel group that traveled or the church worship band, usually both. Somehow practice has always been on Thursdays since 1983.
I hated Thursdays in high school because it interrupted our usual evening telephone chat.
I hated Thursdays early in our marriage because it took him away from me.
I hated Thursdays after daboyz were born because after all day with two little ones I was faced with all evening without a break.
I hated Thursdays because on Thursdays, something else took precedence over me. Or so I believed.
You could say that Thursdays no longer upset me because after almost thirty years, I don't need to chat every single evening. Or because I'm glad to have a break from the guy or because the kids are grown and I don't need any help. But you'd be wrong. I no longer dread Thursdays because a dark season in my life is behind me.
This dark season used every single Thursday to taunt me with lies that I was unimportant. Lies from satan whispering that Dean had some great life away from me where he would go and completely forget about me. People would tell me all the time how very blessed I was to have this guy who had devoted his music to the Lord but I couldn't appreciate the wonder of it. All I knew was that it didn't matter if I was sick or the kids were puking or I'd had a terrible day and was crying on the couch, he left for practice without a look back.
I felt that he should take a break from practicing every Thursday while the kids were small because we needed him. I really wasn't altogether out in left field on it. He did use practice to escape our ugly marriage and the general stress of life. But that wasn't really my problem. My problem was the season of lies.
Now I like Thursdays. I enjoy Thursdays evenings when I clean the bathroom and change the sheets on our bed. I like 7:00 bed time with a book. I don't feel alone anymore on Thursdays. What I realize now was that somehow those few hours once a week had me utterly convinced that this separate life of his was just a tiny portrait of how easily he could separate his life from mine altogether. I could never be reassured, I could only stand there every Thursday evening being hurt all over again as Dean drove away.
Thank God the season of lies has passed into the Season of Truth. I no longer need to throw down a gauntlet (after gauntlet after gauntlet) to see if he'd stay or go. And this really isn't about our love story but about the love story of Christ & me. There is no love outside of Jesus, there is only a frail humanity grasping at shadows, peering through a dirty window...seeing through a glass darkly. When I found my way into the light of God and allowed myself total immersion in Him and foolishly threw aside the ideas that I was unworthy, I no longer chased after proof of love. Many say there is a gift of loving others. I'm not terribly impressed with that gift. I am convinced that there is a greater gift, that of receiving love. Being able to let the people in my life fall short of my needs without the darkness descending back into my spirit came only when God's love was truly revealed in me and in that, every crevice, crack and fissure caused by disappointment was filled with peace and joy. Filled with Christ.
Have you ever seen a volcano? The mountain shakes and explodes causing huge cracks down its surface and then the lava streams over the top filling every gap. The volcano quiets and the lava cools and the mountainside becomes whole and smooth again.
God's love is not a gentle cloud that descends on us with angel's song. It is a mighty force, it is magnificent and unimaginable. It's surprising but more than that, it's shocking. It trembles the earth and breaks out of ground and dominates the landscape.
I have crawled through the season of lies. I have danced in the Season of Truth.
The landscape of my life trembles at the fury of His love.
I used to hate Thursdays. For our entire relationship (28 years!), the Mr. has been in a "group." A gospel group that traveled or the church worship band, usually both. Somehow practice has always been on Thursdays since 1983.
I hated Thursdays in high school because it interrupted our usual evening telephone chat.
I hated Thursdays early in our marriage because it took him away from me.
I hated Thursdays after daboyz were born because after all day with two little ones I was faced with all evening without a break.
I hated Thursdays because on Thursdays, something else took precedence over me. Or so I believed.
You could say that Thursdays no longer upset me because after almost thirty years, I don't need to chat every single evening. Or because I'm glad to have a break from the guy or because the kids are grown and I don't need any help. But you'd be wrong. I no longer dread Thursdays because a dark season in my life is behind me.
This dark season used every single Thursday to taunt me with lies that I was unimportant. Lies from satan whispering that Dean had some great life away from me where he would go and completely forget about me. People would tell me all the time how very blessed I was to have this guy who had devoted his music to the Lord but I couldn't appreciate the wonder of it. All I knew was that it didn't matter if I was sick or the kids were puking or I'd had a terrible day and was crying on the couch, he left for practice without a look back.
I felt that he should take a break from practicing every Thursday while the kids were small because we needed him. I really wasn't altogether out in left field on it. He did use practice to escape our ugly marriage and the general stress of life. But that wasn't really my problem. My problem was the season of lies.
Now I like Thursdays. I enjoy Thursdays evenings when I clean the bathroom and change the sheets on our bed. I like 7:00 bed time with a book. I don't feel alone anymore on Thursdays. What I realize now was that somehow those few hours once a week had me utterly convinced that this separate life of his was just a tiny portrait of how easily he could separate his life from mine altogether. I could never be reassured, I could only stand there every Thursday evening being hurt all over again as Dean drove away.
Thank God the season of lies has passed into the Season of Truth. I no longer need to throw down a gauntlet (after gauntlet after gauntlet) to see if he'd stay or go. And this really isn't about our love story but about the love story of Christ & me. There is no love outside of Jesus, there is only a frail humanity grasping at shadows, peering through a dirty window...seeing through a glass darkly. When I found my way into the light of God and allowed myself total immersion in Him and foolishly threw aside the ideas that I was unworthy, I no longer chased after proof of love. Many say there is a gift of loving others. I'm not terribly impressed with that gift. I am convinced that there is a greater gift, that of receiving love. Being able to let the people in my life fall short of my needs without the darkness descending back into my spirit came only when God's love was truly revealed in me and in that, every crevice, crack and fissure caused by disappointment was filled with peace and joy. Filled with Christ.
Have you ever seen a volcano? The mountain shakes and explodes causing huge cracks down its surface and then the lava streams over the top filling every gap. The volcano quiets and the lava cools and the mountainside becomes whole and smooth again.
God's love is not a gentle cloud that descends on us with angel's song. It is a mighty force, it is magnificent and unimaginable. It's surprising but more than that, it's shocking. It trembles the earth and breaks out of ground and dominates the landscape.
I have crawled through the season of lies. I have danced in the Season of Truth.
The landscape of my life trembles at the fury of His love.
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