Hope Floats
I almost forgot that I was an optimist. I’m sure by now yall have forgotten too, what with all my complaining and crying, seriously how would you know? And no doubt there will be more of that, but for tonight I remembered that I’m an optimist. I’m a plan A person (that’s way different than a type-A person, which I couldn’t be further from) I only make one plan. Plan A. There is no plan B because I don’t need it. I won’t have it. Tonight, there’s just one plan. Tonight, hope floats. (And, yes, whatever, I just stole that from Sandra Bullock). But it fits. Hope floats.
It happened last night while I was watching Brenda Lee Johnson (Kyra Sedwick) solve a riveting murder. She said, “Sometimes I pay more attention to murderers than I do the people most important to me.” And I thought, oh my gosh, Miss little Brenda Lee is right. I’m paying attention to the murderers.
I’m paying attention to the voices that don’t matter.
The voices that matter are the ones full of grace and full of mercy. They are the voices that point me to scripture and to a heavenly father. They are the voices that remind me that Jesus is enough and that He is bigger than divorce. They are the ones that remind me that my children need Jesus more than they need married parents; their heavenly father more than their earthly one. They are the voices, loud and strong that encourage and pray and send messages reminding me that He goes before us and that He’s already there….in November….ahead and making a plan; making a way for us. The voices that should be singing in my head are those of you who read and comment; those who have seen me mother and love on my children; those of you who send me messages of perserverance and hope and humor; those who know my heart and know without a doubt that there must’ve been a pretty good reason for the asking.
Oh, HALE yeah, there was.
But in case you were wondering; in case I made it fuzzy. I was the one who did the asking.
Reading through some of my posts, especially www.theselittlelights.blogspot.com, it dawns on me (always, with the dawning) that maybe I led you to believe otherwise and if so, I’m sorry. It’s a little bit confusing because I didn’t want a divorce, (seriously, who wants to be part of the single-mom sorority?) but I am the one who asked.
I started writing again this past spring after I had been accused of concealing my children (we drove to Arkansas together for Christmas….woooo-hooo look how sneaky I am…WHAT??? We freakin drove there together!) Uh-oh, there I go again. Anyway, I started writing after begin called an un-fit mom. I started writing after threats of police. I started writing after I had read letters that were full of lies; ridiculous lies that suggested I had never read to my children at night or given them baths. I started writing after friends that I’ve known my entire adult life abandoned me; chose him. And for what? They chose wrong.
Last November I was sad at the crumbling of a marriage. Come springtime, I was mad.
The lies that were told; and, ironically, the truths that were revealed; it is in that pit where I have been stuck and it took a ridiculous hour of mindless television to wake me up to the fact that I’ve been listening to the murderers. Being a murderer doesn’t just mean that you take someone’s life; it means that you don’t honor their life. I made a decision to honor life; his, my own and most importantly, our childrens’.
A friend reached out recently, sharing that his marriage had ended after 17 years. He was empathizing and said, quite obviously, that divorce is life-changing. It was several hours later that I really “got it.”
Well, DUH! Yes, it is.
Divorce is life changing. And isn’t that the point?
My life (our lives) our changing. Hope Floats.
Raising Magnolias 