Most mornings I wake up in a panic. Life feels so fragile, like it’s being held together with tape or string. This is one of the aftershocks of being left by my husband.

I closed the door and he walked down the sidewalk. His car started and I heard it back out of the driveway. I slowly turned around to face my babies, crumpled on the brand-new sofa. He had stopped by to share the news with them. The big news.

The “D” word news: DIVORCE.

A word that felt like poison. Poured out on us; stinging and ripping our hearts to shreds.

I climbed between them and we cried. We cried and cried and cried. We cried until the tears ran out. I was so afraid. How, Lord? How will I carry their oceans of grief when I’m drowning in the sea myself? 

Instead of checking off my spiritual to-do list all I could do was sip my tea, cry and long for rest. Unwanted divorce, solo parenting, betrayal, grief and unseen burdens weighed heavy rendering me exhausted—both physically and spiritually.

Single moms seem to carry a particular burden that often goes unrecognized—that of chronic decision fatigue and a need for rest. This weariness presents itself emotionally, physically and spiritually. This Mother’s Day we can offer true rest to single moms by being the body of Christ, lifting her eyes to Jesus Christ, the only One in whom true rest can be found.

There is something sacred about Saturday’s stillness in the passion account. The disciples didn’t have eyes to see that hope was brimming under the surface. They were full of grief and despair, longing and fear. But we are of those who see the dawn of Sunday. 

And yet, here we sit: BETWEEN.

The secretary at my lawyer’s office gave me a call to let me know the papers were ready and asked if I could drop by Friday to sign them. A lump immediately formed in my throat and I felt like I couldn’t swallow. After months of being dragged through a horrific legal mess, my divorce papers just needed to be signed and my marriage would be over.

We feel our weakness so deeply, don’t we? We need someone strong enough to bear the weight of it all. So, let’s pause in the messy in- between to welcome the grace of biblical lament into our lives. As we spend time reflecting on passages of lament in the Bible, we will push our hearts towards hope in the only One strong enough to bear the weight of such immense pain.

And hope sounds pretty good when life shatters, doesn’t it?

You are the God of comfort. You look with compassion on my ruins.My life feels shattered (hopeless, even?)

But you are a God who takes deserts and wastelands and turns them into gardens like Eden. What a promise. 

So here I am—in the brokenness of my life, my story, my marriage, my family—asking you to take all of these shards and splintered pieces and make something beautiful. Use these ashes for your glory and my good. 

Dear Church, let’s align ourselves with the work of Jesus, our Good Shepherd, and PURSUE. Let’s stay near on the heels of the hurting in our midst. Abandoned and divorced women naturally find themselves on the edges & fringes. Let’s bring them in and go about the work of Jesus, offering rest, care, provision, safety—FAITHFUL LOVE!

I AM UNLOVED.

Over and over it plays, like a skipping record player. I mean, to be fair, I do have reason to believe those words. They were spoken over me by the one who vowed to love me forever. It makes sense that I would feel this way because it’s true.

Or at least partly. Maybe I should say, ONLY partly?

These dark thoughts threaten to take over my mind, like weeds in a garden. That thought—that I AM UNLOVED thought—threatens to cast itself near and far, all the way to Jesus. 

Your commitment to and participation in the gathered Body of Christ is one of the main avenues of restoration and antidotes to hopelessness in the lives of the afflicted and abandoned wives in your midst.

Everything good and beautiful in my life crashed into a thousand pieces. I was brought very low. So low in fact, I lost all hope. Have you been there? I have a feeling maybe you have…

The idea of the Lord making wastelands into gardens really stuck out to me. But my life was pretty lovely at the time. I was in a season of ease and abundance. I tucked those words away in my heart but they didn’t impact me very deeply. 

Fast forward a few years and I was in a very different place. My life had completely fallen apart. I lost my marriage, my home, my church, my financial security. All of it was a big pile of ash. I was genuinely sitting in a wasteland, surrounded by all the broken pieces of my easy and beautiful life. 

If you told 5-year-old me about all the loss she would face, would she still grow up with stars in her eyes & hope in her heart?

Every December, I feel my heart and body brace themselves for another blow. As twinkly lights sparkle in windows and the collective mood gets merrier, a sense of dread typically settles over my heart. I struggle to pull the Christmas decorations out of storage with my girls, and tears often fall.

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2,555 DAYS.

Seven whole years.

Seven years since the worst day of my life.

Friday, December 1st, will mark the 7th anniversary of my marriage shattering. I have a tradition of setting my alarm for December 1st with the label: YOU SURVIVED. And it’s true. We have.

How do you mark such a day?

Have you been cast very low this year? 

Are you reading this from the lowest point in the valley or the bottom of the pit? 

(Hi friend, I’m here too.)

We both agreed—we were ready to move out of our season of separation and work towards coming back together again. As husband and wife. As a family of four.

It was time to rebuild. And I was in. All in.

In cases of divorce in the church, you and I will likely be in the position of the 99% looking on. How should we handle that? DEAR CHURCH, help and embrace her. Love from where you are.

Sometimes I lay awake at night feeling like such a massive burden to the people who love me. I feel so needy all the time. My friends and family have never begrudged helping me—ever. But it’s still a struggle to believe that I’m not a total drain on them. 

Maybe you feel this way too? 

I don’t have all the answers, but here are four things I’ve been pondering…