Category Archives: Grace

16th UNiversary

Moments before I walked down the aisle, sixteen years ago.

Sixteen years ago today, I got married.

My dad walked his 22-year-old daughter down the aisle to a majestic organ in a beautiful sanctuary on a hot afternoon. I carefully recited my vows and promised my fresh-faced groom I would love and honor him until death did us part.

I meant it.

The reception was small: held in a petite garden area next to the church parking lot. We served sparkling apple cider and charcuterie from Costco. A jazz band comprised of fellow college students played quietly and a budding filmmaker captured moments on Hi8 tape. Due to the unseasonable warmth of the day, the homemade wedding cake melted before my new husband and I could ceremoniously cut it. He proceeded to smash a piece all over my face, anyway.

There was some confusion over the remaining few hundred dollars of the wedding bill, which caused the last of my makeup to be cried off. We left for our honeymoon in my 1997 Toyota pickup truck; the remnants of the fallen cake streaked all over the vehicle. The back window jokingly read, “Mr. and Mrs. Spencer”.

It wasn’t the wedding I wanted, but it was the best I could do.

We were so young.

Today, the sanctuary has been torn down and made new. The garden has been replaced with church offices, where I spent almost five solid months in marriage counseling after discovering my husband’s infidelity.

The organist recently received a heart transplant, the musicians all have steady, successful careers and the videographer became a widely recognized director and won a million dollar Superbowl commercial contest.

And I am happily divorced.

*****

“It’s not the wedding, but the marriage that counts,” they say. If my wedding was any indication of the sort of marriage that followed, I should have bolted the opposite direction down the aisle at the very first note of the processional.

But I believe in marriage. I think it’s amazing, difficult and utterly courageous to make that kind of commitment to another person. Certainly, I was young. Perhaps too young. But I wasn’t afraid. And when my marriage went to complete shit, I held on and fought for the concept – and the person – as long as I could.

I admire that girl. I’m proud of her.

The person and the girl are now gone. But I do not regret the commitment, if only for the role it played in giving birth to the woman I have become.

So today, on my 16th Universary, I do not mourn the loss of a marriage, but cheer for forgiveness and the freedom that accompanies it. I honor growth, wisdom, vulnerability and true, selfless, mature love.

I celebrate the gift of a second chance.

Tagged , ,

Thirty-Eight.

I did it. I had another birthday.

With each passing year, I have become more aware of how precious and fragile life truly is. We make mistakes. We fall. We get hurt. We recover. Shit happens to us. We feel a loss of control over our circumstances. We beat ourselves up over not being perfect: size, shape, friend, lover, parent, role, career. We want to turn back the clock and have a do-over — sometimes at entire decades.

Yet we wouldn’t be who we are today without those mistakes; circumstances; wounds; scars.

A good friend recently told me, “The etymology of character comes from the Greek word for ‘scar’. That’s what gives us character.”

I very much believe in living life to its fullest. This means falling at times. What is more: learning how to fall. It also means being brave. Living in the moment. Accepting grace. It means loving and being loved.

I have been overwhelmed this birthday by how loved I truly am. On Saturday night I was surrounded by family and close friends who purposely sang “Happy Birthday” as loud and off-key as possible. (They know me so well!) Yesterday I floated in the ocean, rode my bicycle, savored homemade cuisine and rocked an impromptu living room karaoke party with the neighbors.

It has been the best birthday, ever.

I do not know what tomorrow holds, but I am ever grateful for my life and the amazing love I have in it.

Wow.

Every so often you receive the encouragement you desperately need. This email from a stranger made me weep. Wow.
*****
Dear Leslie,

I stumbled upon your blog right just after my fiance broke off our engagement, so the timing couldn’t have been more perfect. I cannot pretend to know the depth of pain and confusion you went through, but I certainly resonate deeply with everything you have written. So I want to thank you.

Thank you for being a beautiful soul who can see the irony and poetry and humor of life, despite how shitty everything can be. Thank you for following your passion and refusing to sacrifice one tiny bit of your soul for the Christianese Equation. Thank you for not walking away from God!! Thank you for continuing to have adventures. Thank you for letting Jesus work in you; His light in you shines further and brighter than you can ever realize. Thank you for trying again (and again) at love; you give me courage to try as well. Thank you for being honest about what does and does not suck. Thank you for being funny and creative and talented and for having good grammar. Thank you for writing with such poignant imagery. Thank you for having friendships that sustain you. Thank you for not just walking the path you’ve been given but skipping and dancing down it. Thank you for crying and raging and swearing when the load is heavy and the scars ache; you give me permission to not always be “fine” or “nice”.

You are (and I’m weeping as I write this) an exquisite treasure: a masterpiece of God’s creation. You are grace in my life. You are radiant beauty. You have been a cup of cool water in a long sojourn through a dry desert.

Thank you for allowing me to journey with you these last 2 years. I continue to pray God’s mercy and grace rain down on you, just as they pour out of you.

~ Your Sister in Christ

Confession

I have a confession about editing my blog-turned-book, “The Christian Girl’s Guide to Divorce.”

It makes me raging angry.

It’s difficult to re-read and subsequently re-live that shitty, shitty time in my life. It doesn’t hurt like it once did, but I’m almost embarrassed at how long I held on and fought for someone who so clearly wanted nothing to do with me or our marriage.

Love is blind, that’s for damn sure.

I wish I could go back in time and sit with that scared, hurting, angry, confused, married Christian girl. I would give her a long, empathetic hug and allow her to cry for a spell. Then, I would take her hand firmly in mine, look into her eyes and say,
“Dry your tears. Get up, walk out the door and never look back. You have a beautiful, fantastic, adventurous life ahead of you. It will not be trouble or pain-free. It’s certainly not going to be fair, but it will be far better than you can imagine. And it most definitely doesn’t include that guy.”

I don’t want to be angry anymore. In fact, I really don’t have to be.

So, in honor of the girl who once was, I will keep going. It’s probably the hardest work I have done. But I will do it. I will edit. I will not censor the truth. I will keep writing. Even though I have to look back right now, I know the outcome. The ending is the happiest one of all.

Because grace — oh, amazing grace! — has set me free.

Thirty-Seven

On August 30, I celebrated my 37th birthday.

I had a very small gathering at a cozy, candle-lit wine bar in Greenwich Village, called 8th Street Wine Cellar. It was the same place I celebrated my 32nd birthday, just one day before moving home to Los Angeles and discovering my husband’s infidelity.

I remember pacing the sidewalk, arguing with X over the phone right before my party started. I didn’t understand why he was so volatile. I didn’t understand why I was so angry with him.

We left the conversation unresolved. He mumbled “Happy Birthday,” and I hung up. I walked down the stairs, into the cool cellar where my friends were waiting. Almost immediately, I was happy again. I was loved. I was celebrated. And I felt torn. I didn’t want to leave New York but I had to try and save my marriage.

*****

It would be more than two years before I returned to New York City. And every time I did, I arranged social gatherings at 8th Street Wine Cellar.

In December 2011, my boyfriend (at the time) surprised me with a trip. I was beside myself with joy. I took him to all my favorite places, including the wine bar. We shared Malbec and charcuterie with my friend (and future roommate), Christy.

In December 2012, I sat in a corner booth with Christy and cried.

“I want to move here,” I blubbered, as tears streamed down my cheeks. “I have to live in New York. But I am so afraid.”

Christy took my hand. “I believe you belong in this city,” she said, gently. “I know God will make a way for it to happen.”

And He did.

In December 2013, after having just found our current apartment, Christy and I sat in the very same corner booth and sketched living room designs on a Tempranillo-stained napkin.

Last Saturday, I celebrated my 37th birthday at 8th Street Wine Cellar. What is more, I experienced a miracle. A full circle. I celebrated God’s kindness in restoring me from the pit of divorce; the ashes of pain and loss. I rejoiced in the fact that even though my marriage failed, I had not. I proclaimed God graciously carried me back to the city where I had begun to find my true identity. I applauded the goodness of singlehood. Over wine and in candlelight, I laughed with my friends at horrible dating stories, parenting snafus and work crises.

I raised a glass to healing and hope.

Thirty-seven is the year of surrender. I know not what the tomorrow may bring. What I do know is that I am fiercely loved. My future – whatever it holds – is bright and full of life.

Thanks be to God.

August 14

August 14 is my ex-husband’s birthday.

On August 14, 2010 — the year I filed for divorce — I went on a date and had a wild makeout session with an old college crush. It was the very first time I had kissed another man besides my husband in the heat of passion. I remember feeling exhilarated and awkward. It wasn’t X or his body. It was exciting and strange, all at once; totally unfamiliar. I felt like I was doing something wrong.

I cried the entire next day and never saw the guy again.

2011 saw me finally divorced, traveling and kissing men in France, yet still angry X got away with infidelity and bigamy. In 2012 I was mourning the loss of my first post-divorce relationship.

As the years continue to pass, dates that connect me to X are just not significant anymore. They still exist, but we have both moved on with our lives.

This year, August 14 almost slipped by without incident. I worked a day gig on the Upper East Side and started to pack for my shows in Pittsburgh the following week.

Somehow, I mentioned X to my roommate Christy that evening, as we conversed over a lovely bottle of rose.

“We should raise a glass to him,” she smiled.

“No, I don’t want to do that. Fuck that guy,” I immediately responded, out of habit.

And then I softened.

“No, actually, you know what? You’re right. Let’s toast him. He does not hold the power to hurt me anymore.”

We lifted our glasses into the light. Outside, on 5th Avenue, sirens from the fire station up the street began to blare. A school of yellow and green taxicabs flashed by in a flurry. A double decker bus full of tourists on a sunset drive floated by. And the trees swayed gently in the summer breeze.

I closed my eyes and let the words fall out of my mouth.

“Here’s to the boy who was;
the boy who is;
and the man whom only God has the power to change.”

 

Lay Down Your Sword

It’s 8:30 a.m. in Hiroshima, Japan. I’m lying on a very hard bed in my very sleek hotel room, recovering from last night’s show, jet lag, and whatever disease I am fighting off from Hacking, Coughing Man in seat 49A on last Friday’s flight to Seoul, Korea.

I couldn’t help but recall my dream right before I woke up this morning. It took me completely by surprise because it involved my ex-husband.

I had almost forgotten he exists.

No, really. His memory is like a blip on a radar. I’m not quite sure if that is a victory or not. It just is what it is.

In my dream, X came to me, apologetically, and offered to finally pay the money he still owes me from our divorce settlement. I decided a while ago it was not worth pursuing, just like it’s not worth my time and energy trying to take those scammy mover thief guys in Florida to court over the money they stole from me.

Extremely difficult decisions.

Interestingly enough, however, my subconscious still holds onto a figure; an amount that will bring closure.

The truth is, when you’ve been hurt or have experienced loss, no amount of money can fix it. Ultimately, there is no satisfaction. You are still left with loss.

I suppose I’m sharing this to encourage you, friends, especially those of you who are in the thick of trials. To those of you who are fighting, tooth and nail for justice. For those who are in the hellfire of divorce.

Choose your battles. Know when it’s time to lay down your sword. The trial you are facing right now will pass. Preserve your heart. Save your energy. Life is unfair and people can be dishonest and cruel, but it does not change the fact you are still dearly loved. Keep moving forward. Keep trusting. God sees you. He will never forsake you.

Raindrops in a Sea of Grace

I woke up late this morning to raindrops on the fire escape. The tiny beads of water line themselves up in rows of eight to twelve along each metal railing and stair. They linger until the moment you look out the window and catch a glimpse of all the fire escapes on the surrounding buildings. The chorus of raindrops glitters and gleams as high as your eye can see. Slowly, one by one, they flutter to the pavement.

I decided I needed to write today.

Besides finding stage work, one of my goals in New York is to finish my book. I think I’ve been talking about completing it for almost ten months now, but haven’t written one word past Chapter 72. I know I have to end the story of the divorce, for the sake of the book.

At the same time, and not to make any more excuses, I feel as if I’ve been living the ending. Two years after pleading with God to help me end my divorce and move to New York, I am finally here.

The details matter, of course. I just don’t want to re-live them.

A few days ago, I started to write the “real” Chapter 73. I opened up my old journal and emails, and began plugging away. The more I read through three-year old communication with X, however, the angrier I got.

Why did I stay married to that guy for so long?! I screamed at myself. Every word of his on that computer screen reeked of bullshit; mine of desperation. It’s amazing how love can blind us. Yet, when two people choose to love each other, it can paint an incredible, rich canvas of life. Everything is redeemable. Anything is possible.

* * * * *

After an audition yesterday, I met up with a lovely, talented actress/director friend who just so happens to be divorced, as well. She is happily re-married to a faithful, loving man.

“Can I ask you something personal?” she asked, her piercing teal-blue eyes staring straight into mine.

“Absolutely,” I responded, my mouth full of hot bread and warm olives. Traffic outside our corner window table started picking up. Gentle flakes of snow fell to the ground, and the busy street transformed into a palette of color: grey sky, yellow cabs, black umbrellas and bright, multi-colored scarves.

“Have you been able to fully forgive X?” Her question was direct.

I paused, about to pop another green olive into my mouth.

“I don’t know,” I sighed.  I carefully placed the olive back on my plate.

I began to explain how I think I have forgiven X as much as I am humanly capable. The rest is up to God. If I stop and think about how X betrayed himself, first, then me, our marriage and everything for which we stood, I get angry. It looks like he got away with all of his shenanigans, and moved forward, almost seamlessly, into a whole new life, without consequence.

He’s actually been blessed.

The honest, human part of me wants him to suffer, perhaps just so I can feel like the fourteen years I spent in relationship with him were not a total waste.

Yet.

God’s incredible love, combined with the mystery of grace, is so powerful. I cannot think about what my ex husband has and I don’t. It’s a waste of time, emotion and energy. My new life has already been set in motion, and I get to live, free. I am free to pursue my dreams. I am free to love again, and I truly believe that love will be deeper, stronger and more incredible than anything I have ever experienced.

I also realize, in telling my story — even in re-living those painful, sometimes embarrassing details, God is able to continue to heal parts of me that are broken.

I am swimming in a sea of grace.

* * * * *

As the rain continues to fall this briskly balmy Saturday afternoon in New York, I think of each individual drop as contributing to that sea of grace, of forgiveness.

One by one, each raindrop falls. Some, harder than others. Others linger on the fire escape, until just the right moment, when you’re ready to recognize the life and beauty in a single drop.  Eventually, you’re soaked from head to toe.

And the most painfully beautiful part of it all is realizing everyone gets as much grace as you do.

Ack, X and K

Two days after my court hearing, I boarded a plane to Minneapolis, Minnesota.

My main purpose for heading to the Midwest was to reconcile with my long-lost, dear friend, K.  I hadn’t seen her in seven years, and we had only recently reconnected.

K and I had a beautiful history.  At the time I met her, she was in a dating relationship with X’s best friend, whom I shall refer to as “Ack”.  The couple hailed from a small town in Minnesota, and fell in love the summer before their senior year in high school.  After graduation, Ack moved to California to attend Bible College.  K stayed in Minnesota, attended college for two years, and then took a job as a nanny in Massachusetts.

I met K one weekend when she was in town visiting, and we were instantly friends.  We kept up our friendship via handwritten letters (email was a bit of a foreign concept back in those days).  Eventually, K took the plunge and moved to Southern California to be closer to Ack.  She and another girlfriend of hers from Minnesota became my roommates during my senior year at Biola University.

It was 1999.

The other Minnesotan roommate married X’s other best friend in June, I married X in October, and K married Ack nine months later.  We all settled in South Pasadena, just blocks from each other, and our friendship blossomed.

It was perfect.

The six of us were inseparable; unstoppable.  We were newlyweds, best friends, and adventurers.  We were young and had lofty dreams, but we were committed to our marriages.   We planned to take over the world and raise our kids together.  We enjoyed dinner parties, intellectual conversation and Bible studies.  The boys traveled to the Middle East together, for they shared a passion for the culture, and the girls stayed at home, waiting expectantly for their husbands to return.

Eventually, the other couple followed their calling into mission work, where they and their three children still flourish to this day.  Ack and X continued to travel together and found a single male friend to add to their danger/thrill-seeking lifestyle.

In the fall of 2003, K got pregnant.

It was unexpected news, but we were beyond excited.  There was going to be a baby in the mix!

So, the boys took off on a trip to Lebanon.  I accompanied K to her 14-week ultrasound appointment.  It would be the second time she would see and hear her baby’s heartbeat.  I had never seen an actual ultrasound before, and I was ecstatic.

K lay down on the table, and the friendly technician slathered the cold gel across her taut abdomen.  We chatted excitedly as we waited for the image of the baby to appear.  We also bemoaned that fact that both our husbands were gallivanting around Beirut.  It was time for them to settle down.

The technician continued to probe K’s belly for the image of the baby, until – there!  I saw it!  A teeny, tiny, miniature human being.  Totally formed.  Amazing!  I started screeching with excitement.

K lifted her head off the thinly veiled hospital pillow to catch a glimpse of her child.

She looked at the technician, and then at the screen, and said, matter-of-factly, “There’s no heartbeat.”

Silent tears flowed down the sides of her perfect, porcelain cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” the technician said, gently, and turned off the screen.

The rest of the appointment was full of shock and sadness.  Later that evening, K somehow managed to get a hold of her husband.

Ack told her he would come home, even though he and X hadn’t completed their itinerary.   We all later learned that a majority of these overseas trips consisted of partying, dancing, picking up women, kidnapping/dangerous situations with terrorists (yes, true), and God only knows what else.

He made it a few days later, just hours after she had a surgical procedure to remove the dead baby from her body.  Ack promised K he wouldn’t leave her like that, ever again.

Yet, two weeks later, he had already planned another trip.   Ack, X and their single friend traveled to Somalia to chase pirates in the summer of 2004.

K had had it.

And so, through a series of tragic, painful and devastating circumstances/events, K left.

We were all shocked.  Our team of unstoppable six went down to a confused, broken five.  What is worse, we all judged and hated K for leaving the way she did; for destroying her marriage.

I was the most judgmental of all.

I wrote K a massive email and vomited my feelings.  I chastised her and implored her to stay in her marriage.  I tried to wrap it up by telling her that I loved her, and would always be her friend, but it seemed hopeless.

She thanked me for my honesty, and disappeared.

So, the team of feeble five (including single male friend) upheld Ack and helped him through his divorce.  We felt sorry for him, and didn’t really know how to comfort him.  Not one of us 20-something Christian kids could imagine what it would be like to lose our spouse like that.

K was an evil monster who had destroyed Ack’s soul.  Ack clothed himself in all black, and we excused his subsequent destructive behavior.

Eventually, Ack moved in with X and me for a few months, and I took care of them both.  I did Ack’s laundry.  I sorted his mail.  I warded off collection agents who called our house, looking for him. I did my best to comfort him.  I committed to hate K for him.

Ack swore to make women fall for him, just so he could break their hearts.   And that he did.

In the summer of 2009, when I knew something was terribly wrong with my own marriage, I reached out to Ack. He was, after all, a Christian, and my husband’s best friend. 

Do you have any insight on what’s going on with X?  I wrote, trying to conceal my desperation.

I am too much of a girl (emotional, crazy) to figure him out right now. I would appreciate anything you know or have observed; no offense taken at all.

Ack responded. 

He thought we were both selfish, and didn’t understand how our marriage worked.  He believed that we genuinely didn’t have common goals anymore, and hadn’t worked very hard to make each other important or even interesting to one another.  He believed that X was over my whole deal in New York, and I had stopped being interested in X’s life a long time ago.  There was distance, X was selfish, I was selfish, and things didn’t look good from his perspective.  But, ultimately, he didn’t know what was going on.

But he did know.  He knew about the affair, the whole time.  And, one month later, I discovered the truth through Ack and X’s Skype conversation.  They talked candidly about my husband’s love for “UKR”, as if it were the most common, known fact in the world.

Over the past three years, the truth about my ex-husband and the people with whom he surrounded (and still surrounds) himself has slowly, painfully come to light.  The betrayal that I felt in my broken marriage almost seems to have been doubled.  I am shocked and saddened at the massive, seemingly guiltless capability to lie, manipulate, deceive and destroy.

I have joked to close friends that if I ever see one of those boys again, I will cause a large scene.  I will obnoxiously approach him and screech,  “What’s up, DICK?!”

Then I think, What would Jesus actually — not Christianese-commercially —  do?

The answer is, He probably wouldn’t call someone a dick.

Sigh.  I struggle, to this day, with forgiving that cast of characters.

Yet.

When the mask of self-righteousness has been torn from us and we stand stripped of all our accustomed defenses, we are candidates for God’s generous grace.   -Erwin W. Lutzer (1941- )

K reached out to me when she learned of my separation.  We began to re-form our bond in the exact manner as it had begun: through written word.  I was overjoyed to rekindle a friendship that I thought had been destroyed.  When the opportunity presented itself, it only seemed fitting to jump on a plane, even just to hug my friend.

I spent several days with K in her warm, cozy home in northern Minnesota, and cherished every moment.   She has since re-married a wonderful, joyful, patient and loving man who simply adores her.

K and I laughed and cried together as the ugly scales of past hurts rapidly shed away.  The fragrant, yet crisp spring air was full of forgiveness and grace.

New healing had begun.

“I’m Going to France to Kiss Somebody”

Friday, April 15, 2011

One year ago I was moving out of my house.  One year ago I knew my marriage was over.  An entire year.

So much has happened since.  I am so thankful

Should I go to Minnesota?  And France?

Saturday, April 16, 2011

Oh, Lord.  What a glorious day.  Such beauty!  I am so thankful to be alive, to have my health; to have such amazing people in my life.  Most of all, I have You.

Andrea and I are going to France in ONE MONTH!  I bought our tickets last night.  I am a bit scared, but why?  Scared of things I cannot control…? I am not in control.  It’s not up to me and it never was.  That is freeing.  I guess I’m scared of being stopped at the border – knowing my fingerprints are in the system as a “criminal”.

A new season begins in my life.  The tax job is over.  I do not want to be wasteful with my savings but I am so excited to go to Paris. 

PARIS!

To see, to live, to LOVE life.  Oh, Lord, what a gift!

2 Cor. 5:7 – “We live by faith, not by sight.”

Thank You for getting me through tax season with the ability to drive.  Thank You for helping me through the emotion and pain of dealing with X.  Thank You that he sent (part of) the money.  Thank You for the doors You will open up for me – even now. 

PARIS!  I am so excited.  Adventure!

Oh, may I learn and see and capture everything in this new, blessed life of mine.

Monday, April 18, 2011

I’m going to PARIS.

Talked to my lawyer today, and, regardless of the outcome of my court case (DUI or Wet Reckless), I will lose my license for a month.  I elected to have it suspended right after my hearing. 

So, I might go to Minnesota to visit friends; to be there for love and support.  I want to be free from license suspension and all that crap. 

Why am I so afraid?  NO FEAR!  Lord, I need You; I need a break from myself and craziness and dating and worrying.

I need to get OUT of here.

Tuesday, April 21, 2011

Oh, Lord, what freedom there is in recognizing YOU and YOUR power and glory; YOUR control over the world; my circumstances; everything.

Father, I GIVE THIS DUI TO YOU.  I GIVE OVER my fears, my worries, and I KNOW You have already worked it out for good.  For my good.  I am not entitled.

 Perhaps You are calling me to a simpler life.  I want to follow You, no matter what.  I NEED You; I NEED help.

I pray for peace as I travel to Minnesota.  I am disappointed that there is no Christmas tour this year.  Father, I need work.  I need a job to support myself.  I am worried that a court conviction will affect my ability to be employed in the future.  I cannot worry about that.  I CANNOT CONTROL ANY OF IT!

These are such hard lessons to be learning.  Humbling.  Lord, take my life and let it be, always, only, ever to Thee.  God, I give You my yearning for love from a man.  I give You my longing for children. I give You my longing for a career. 

I have no idea what You are calling me to, but I want to be used by You.

Sunday, April 24, 2011

Oh, Jesus!
Thank You for this day!  YOU ARE RISEN!  Resurrected from the dead!  You have called me out of the shadows; out of the darkness into LIGHT.  I am YOURS.  I am YOURS.

I can’t do this on my own, Lord.  Any of it.  I need You so very badly.  Thank You for accepting me just as I am, with all my ugliness and sin.

DUI or not – it doesn’t matter.  I am a sinner.  I am not able to do this life on my own.  Thank You for this time in my life, Lord, where I am facing hard truths and making idiot mistakes.  Yet You still love me – You don’t judge me at all.

May I extend that grace to myself!

Thursday, April 28, 2011

As my court date looms in on me, I am starting to get scared.  I know I’ll be guilty.  But, Lord, would You show mercy?  I know You already do.  I know that You will carry me through this.  I will be OK.

You are showing me new things, and new people are coming into my life.  I am broken.  I need You.  I need Your approval and not the legal system’s; I need YOUR love and not the affirmation (or lack thereof) of some dumb guy.

Clarity.

Finished AA meetings.  Not for me.  I am proud of myself for doing it – seven meetings in two weeks.  Hopefully that will help my sentence.  Oh, Lord.

I am scared.  I am also free.

Lord, I give my trip to Minnesota to You.  Also France.  I am scared.  Of what?  Making further mistakes?  Being disappointed?  I don’t quite know.  But I do know that I am content: right here, right now.

Saturday, April 30, 2011

Court is Monday morning.  I will be sentenced.  And then I will face my fears, everything.  I just want to move forward with my life.  Oh, Father, I do not want to take anything for granted!

Thank You for yesterday’s birthday celebration with X’s brother and his family.  Thank You for that healing experience.  Thank You for their acceptance of me.  I pray for them and their relationship with X’s parents.  They have been hurt by the fact that X’s parents have basically refused to meet their new baby.  

Who does that?  

Sunday, May 1st

Beautiful day at the beach with Joy today.  I felt Your love and peace all throughout!  Lord, I pray for a reduced sentence.  I pray hard.  I also give the outcome of my case to You.  You know.  You are in control.  You will go before me.

Deuteronomy 3:16 – “Be strong and courageous.  Do not be afraid or terrified…for the LORD your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you.

Monday, May 2, 2011

In court.  Shaking.  Possibly will be able to get the Wet Reckless.  LORD, I trust You.  I PRAY for mercy. They have to run my married name and check my records.  If no arrests – OBVIOUSLY – I might be able to get the reduced sentence.  Oh, FATHER GOD!  I pray, pray, pray for Your guidance.  May the Prosecutor be merciful.

Tuesday, May 3, 2011

Oh, Lord!
I was able to get the reduced sentence in my case.  I plead “no contest” to Reckless Driving.  It still stinks, but it is not a DUI. 

Father, I am so grateful for the mercy and grace You continue to show me.  I will still have to take a three-hour class every Monday night for three months starting June 6th.  But it will be done.

Expensive, horrific and scary lesson.

THANK YOU.

Now I’m going to France to kiss somebody.