Slow but Sure
I called my cousin tonight. I needed her help. Evidently spending $1200 on a computer is not enough to actually have a program that allows you to write and save a document. And I’m new at the book-writing thing, but I’m pretty sure that you need to be able to write a save documents.
Ya know. Just as a start.
I opened an email she had sent on October 3rd with a link to Microsoft word. A generous gift considering that Apple was going to charge $100, but I couldn’t figure out what to do so I called her.
I didn’t want to call her.
I didn’t want her to know that almost two months had passed since she sent me the link.
But I’ve been humbled by less so I called her.
She laughed and she said, “Oh Myra! You know what they say about Myra! She’s slow but she’s sure.”
It took about 1/2 hour to complete all the downloads. I am now the proud new owner of Word. I can write and type and save and well just all kinds of fancy things.
But as I sat and watched the little blue downloading line get longer and longer and longer, I thought about what she had said.
And I think she kinda nailed it.
When I think about how slow I was to seek and find and acknowledge and yes—-
I am slow.
But once I make up my mind.
Once I step out and spread out and jump right out—THEN—
I am sure.
And there is no turning back.
Tonight we have friends over. Little ones. Friends whose parents are at a school fundraiser and I think back to two years ago this very week and I remember the exact dress that I was supposed to wear and we never dressed up and we never went out so I remember being excited but I also remember hearing a voice from the Lord asking me when I was going to do the hard thing that I’d been called to do.
I did the hard thing. In an email.
In my defense we talked first and being a better writer than I am “talker” I told him that I was going to write down what I was feeling.
Yes. I did the hard thing.
My husband replied. I don’t think you should go to the fundraiser.
He went. He told the table I was sick.
And that was probably true.
I was sick.
Two long, slow years.
Today on the way home from day care, Emma Claire, out of the clear blue sky says, “Mom. I wish you and Dad weren’t divorced.”
She was so young when we separated that it’s all she knows.
She’s only now beginning to process what it all means.
I said, “Emma Claire, I wish that too.”
And with the exception of Santa and Jolly Sparkle, the stupid elf that I have to buy over and over again because he flies to the Pole and never comes back….yes, with the exception of that I think it’s the first time I’ve ever lied to my child.
But the truth is too confusing.
I don’t wish that we weren’t divorced.
I wish that our marriage had been different.
And I don’t wish at all.
And I believe.
And I am slow.
My marriage wasn’t different.
So I don’t wish for anything else than what is.
Today I got a call from a friend who knows betrayal and knows heartache and her story could not be more different and her story could not be more—
She fought. She believed. She was slow.
But now she is sure.
And her journey toward freedom is beginning and I know the voices because I’ve heard the voices.
“How could she not have known?”
“I just feel so sorry for her children.”
It’s not sad. I know exactly how she couldn’t have known and I rejoice for her children.
Sure! HALE to the YEAH!
Yes, I am slow to act but I am sure in my faith and I Praise the ever-living God from whom all blessings flow that His love never fails and He never gives up on me.
Slow but sure.