#itisfinished

Do you ever feel the need to do something, but you have no idea why? That is exactly how I feel in this very moment; creating a Tumblr and sharing my story. The truth is, I doubt anyone with read it, much less care. But, here I am about to expose the raw, unedited truth that lurks in my being...This specific story does not begin today November 13th, but instead began a little over a year ago on August 5th, 2017 and I am going to preface it by saying, it is not a story with a happy ending....yet. 

On August 5th, 2017 I decided to marry the man of my dreams. It was fairytales and rainbows at the time as we eloped to the courthouse. We gave consideration to what we were doing but I don't think either of us at 20-years-old really understood the magnitude of our actions or the depth of the commitment we were making to each other and to God. We were young, immature, and had SO much to learn.

I considered myself a Christian at the time of getting married. I read my Bible from time to time and I prayed every so often. But to say I was a Christian at that moment was like someone who goes to the gym once a week claiming to be a body builder. I had no endurance. I had no muscle. 

So, fast forward a few months into our marriage and the fighting began. Every fight crushed me more and more like a Cheeto laying on the floor until finally I was grounded down into nothing but a powder ready to be shoved into the crevices of someones shoe. Most people sugar coat marriage even while telling you the first year is going to be hard. But hard was an understatement. We fought well into the nights. We screamed and I cried. Words were said that couldn't be taken back and each fight drove a wedge between us. Each fight created a pound of resentment inside of us as we gradually packed on the weight. Until it was too much to recover...or so I thought.

The term divorce was thrown around like candy since the third month we were married. I think we both wanted out for our own selfish reasons. In the beginning of 2018, after a fight that got so far out of control to justify, he decided he was done. We didn't fight because we didn't love each other. We fought because we didn't know how to love each other. And that is the biggest lesson I could ever learn from all of this. I didn't know how to love him. I didn't know how to be the wife that he needed or to put aside my own selfishness. I couldn't get past my own desires and how he wasn't meeting every unrealistic fairytale expectation I had set in my head of what a marriage should be like.

He moved out and I realised that at the end of everyday he was the man I wanted to be around. At the end of everyday, regardless of laundry getting done, or dinner being prepared, he was the soul my heart longed for. I wanted to celebrate his accomplishments, but I felt like I needed to hate him. I felt embarrassed to be the wife that still loved someone who moved out on her. I felt like I was the clingy ex who couldn't let it go, but why should I have? 

I didn't always know during our marriage that he was who I wanted to be with. After he moved out, I became resentful. I was hurt and I longed to fix my marriage. I began consistently praying to God. I asked Him to work in my heart to change me and to work in my husband’s heart as well. I knew that in order for this marriage to be saved, we both needed to grow. I wish I could tell you that for the last 8 months all I have been doing is praying and believing in God’s promises. BUT that isn't true. We went our separate ways and I got frustrated with waiting on God. I didn't think that He heard me. I didn't think He was listening. Everyday, things got worse between my husband and I and I finally raised my hands and gave up. I lost faith. I, the imperfect human that I am, lost all hope in God. I didn't want to hear anything about Him. My anger was redirected from my husband to God.

So I went my own way. I tried to forget God and I tried to forget my husband and the hurt that came with my marriage. I started drinking all the time with friends, attending every festival I could find. I drank until I could forget. I found other men who could fill my void for a night, or a week, or even a couple months. I walked away from my marriage. I walked away from my God. 

On November 4th, after a long weekend of missing my husband, I called him. I called him to see if I could come talk to him. I wanted him back in my life in any way I could have him. We hadn't talked in months at this point and it was a little awkward when I went to his new house. That night, I realised my feelings were still there and stronger than they ever have been. I found that it is easy to be in love with someone when everything is great, it is harder to be in love with that person through all the pain and heartache you've endured. However, it made for a deeper love. A love I have never felt for anyone before. A love that says despite your flaws, and despite the hurt, and despite the trials, I choose you. Everyday. Over and over, I will choose you. 

I saw on that Sunday, while I was still angry with God, that God remained faithful to me even when I had lost faith. He answered my prayers even after I stopped praying them. My husband was a new man in God. He had been watching sermons on his own and has found his own journey and strength. He had matured and his heart had changed. We no longer argued and misheard one another, but instead listened as the other spoke. He listened with compassion and understanding and spoke with wisdom of Godly man. He had become everything I had prayed for.