Sunday’s Healthy Reflection-Positive Cycle of Forgiveness

On February 21, 2010 By AngeliaIn Better to be blessed, Life is what you make it.27 Comments

Without forgiveness life is governed by…an endless cycle of resentment and retaliation.
– Roberto Assagioli

The positive cycle of forgiveness

OK, be honest. Do you hold grudges? Do you allow old drama to determine your behavior? Is there someone you just can’t seem to forgive? Grudges and a non-forgiving attitude do nothing but harm both parties. You might feel like you’re “winning” by not letting someone off the hook, but you’re only increasing your own worry and stress. Bitterness can lead to hate, which can sour a life. Today, write a letter explaining your point of view to the person you feel resentful towards. Clear the air; forgiving him. Even if you don’t send it, it is an excellent way to relieve tension. Forgiving someone does not absolve them of the wrong that you experienced. It can simply free you to live a life that isn’t anchored to the hurt and resentment of past events.

Brought to you by Sparkpeople

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I was never one to hold grudges. Nope. I got even, usually, without the person even knowing it. Imagine evil gleam in my eye as I plotted. HA HA HA. My passive aggressive style was brilliant. But then I grew up, or life happened, and I discovered some things just weren’t that important. Revenge was one of them.

I learned something else as well. I wasn’t always right. Is that to say I was never wronged? Of course not. Is that to say life is fair? Uh, nope. Aren’t I really just a door mat then, taking it and taking it? I am not.

There is a lot that happened in my past that I could be bitter about; angry about. A lot of resentments I could harbor, but I CHOOSE to live my life in such a way that everything is a blessing. Good or bad. That doesn’t leave any room for resentments or anger because there is none.

Somehow, someway whatever it is, is going to turn around. When my daughter’s dad and I divorced. I was young and hard hearted. I cared about me, and me only. He dared to want full custody of our then, 3 1/2 yr old daughter. I was floored and angry. Babies belong with their mothers. This is how I grew up and this is how she would grow up. How dare he! Did he really think I was a bad mother?

I didn’t think about what was best for Sydney. Nor did I think about what was fair as parents, who both had a part in bringing this life into the world. I was full of revenge, and resentment towards him wanting to keep me out of the picture.

Turns out, back then, his attorney advised him full custody wasn’t an option. I felt like I won! Revenge was sweet.

Years later, I am horrified at my behavior and thought process. How could I have been so cold? So selfish? Why in the world did I not think of Sydney? Was I numb to her broken heart when I picked her up from her Dads and she cried for him the whole 40min drive home? Why did I think it was about her rejecting ME for him? When it was really HER needing more time with her Dad.

Today, I am with a man who has two young daughters. He has visitation every other weekend and very brief dinner time twice during the week. I see their joy when he takes them in his arms. I see how much they need him and miss him. I hear their cries on the car trip home to their mothers.

Friends, I have come full circle from being that mom on the one side, to being on the other side in the Dads situation. I understand my part, from way back then, more than ever. The blessing? I have more compassion towards Jason and the girls than I ever would have had. I understand completely. My love overflows for them and their anguish.

I have forgiveness for situations like these that are so very hard. I can forgive myself for my part of the custody arrangement with Sydney’s Dad. For being so hard, unrelenting, and immature as an inexperienced mom who just didn’t consider other possibilities than what I grew up with.

Luckily, her dad and I were good friends a little after the divorce. He cared for Sydney whenever he wanted. We lived in the same town, and even the same street for a while. It worked out in her favor, but only because I allowed it to and did not hold my resentment a prisoner in my heart. And you know what? Neither did he.

He was not out to get me. He was out to do and be the best father for his child. I wanted the divorce not him. He was just trying to survive the aftermath with his baby he dearly loved.

I am grateful for my positive cycle of forgiveness. I am grateful for all that I have learned (and will learn). My hope is that it carries over into the lives of our children. I hope they will practice forgiveness and live free and happy.

Choose to forgive, don’t waste any precious time nurturing the seeds of bitterness. Spit them out, swallow your pride. Be kind to yourself and fill up with good things. It will make way for great love and understanding in your soul. It will bring you peace and joy.

Timeless Affection

On December 4, 2009December 4, 2009 By AngeliaIn In my heart forever & ever, In the lives of children, Timeless Treasures28 Comments

Once upon a time there was a little girl with blond curls, who went to Grandma’s house. Sometimes the trip was a long ride in the car, sometimes a shorter ride in a plane. Either way, along with her brothers and sister, she ended up at Grandma’s. A place filled with love, games, and snow. See, Grandma’s house was in Pueblo, Colorado. Grandma’s house had mountain views.

It was a magical place, smelling of peppermints, and home cooked meals. Decorated with crotchet, lace, and soft cushions. The little girl had her own bedroom that was simple, stylish and right out of her favorite TV show The Brady Bunch. The twin skirted bed featured a foam mattress sheeted, and covered with psychedelic swirls of bright green and yellow. Grandma always turned down the covers for her little body to snuggle beneath, tucked away from the cold Colorado nights.

Grandma’s house had stairs. Oh, the wonderful stairs behind the kitchen, to bounce, and pounce upon. Up and down, again, and again, and again. She never tired of it. They led to a basement of wonder. A delightful place for a curious child, filled with many treasures.

A sewing room featuring pictures of all the family and artwork. Another living room with a sofa sleeper couch for the boys, a TV, and an overflowing bookcase. A bedroom for her sister, and even a bathroom. It had a stand up shower, not a bathtub, which she found very different, but a great place to hide. All the windows peeked out at ground level. How exciting to see feet, and wonder whose they belonged to.

The last room in the basement was the laundry room. The likes of which she had never seen. A concrete floor sloped to a drain. Two wide basin sinks lined the wall, alongside counters. An old fashion contraption sat in the middle of the room with a tub, washboard, and a crank. She loved to crank the clothes through it, even though it was hard, and she needed Grandma’s help.

They would come out stiff, and flat. Then be taken outside to hang on the clothesline to dry. How different from her Mom’s house, where they had square machines that made funny whooshing noises.

At the top of the stairs, she loved to go up, was the backdoor that led to a carpeted covered porch the size of a large room. It was home to a ping-pong table. That’s right. Grandma loved games. Playing ping-pong was a favorite of hers, and everyone else in the neighborhood, but most especially her brothers.

Down the sidewalk to the back of the yard, just past the clothesline, but before the vegetable garden was a little red house with a door. A real playhouse with windows like she had always dreamed of. Chock full of dolls, stuffed animals, and a tiny – just the right size – table for tea, with dishes to match. Oh, the fun she had imagining for hours on end.

My sister at the playhouse in Grandma’s backyard.

Grandma’s arms were always open. Her laughter exceptionally sweet, her cheeks always rosy, and her twinkling blue eyes shined merrily. She loved her grandchildren. She loved that they visited her all the way from Oklahoma every year, nary a snowstorm could stop them. The games they would play together – Yahtzee, Monopoly, and cards. She would take them to Church. She would take them on trips. She would tirelessly take them all on – all four of them.

The many memories of Grandma’s include the thrill of summertime camping, in the mountains at a place called, Gopher Creek. Taking the ride puttering up the mountain in Grandma’s RV. Sleeping in the top bunk, snuggled next to other little bodies, crammed in the cove above the cabin, to keep warm from the chilly windows. Traipsing up the tree filled hills chasing squirrels, touching the icy mountain creek water, and roasting marshmallows by a blazing fire. The wonders never ceased to amaze with every outing.

Soon every Christmas was held on Thanksgiving at Grandma’s.

Four year old Angie, opening gifts with Grandma’s help.

As the little girl grew older, a trip to Grandma’s house included great mountain adventures in the snow. Skiing. The child endured a queasy stomach ride up the mountain to Monarch for the day. A ski resort at the highest elevation. The mountain always had snow this time of year. It was a wonderful Christmas present Grandma, so graciously, gifted. Not just for the fun of skiing, but for the memories created, and retold.

She bundled herself up with gloves, long johns, thick woolly socks, and a big (new) winter coat. She took the gusty ride on the ski lift, dangling her legs wearing big chunky ski boots, and long skis locked on. Gleefully flying down the mountain in the pure white, taking bitter cold tumbles, then breaks in the lodge to warm up.

After a long day on the mountain, they made the trek back. Spent, sore, with a red chapped face, the drive took hours to navigate the curvy mountain roads. As they arrived in Grandma’s driveway, she glimpsed through the car window at the warm glow of the kitchen window. Grandma had a hot meal, a hot chocolate, and a heartwarming welcome waiting for them. It was heaven.

When the young girl turned sixteen, she began ticking on her fingers whose Dad was whose. Her mother was twice divorced, and remarried to her Step Dad. Her Mother’s Mother was Grandma Dorothy who died before she was born. Mom’s first husband fathered her older sister, and brother. Mom’s second husband, her Dad, fathered her, and her brother Lonnie. Her Dad’s mother was Granny in Oklahoma. Her oldest brother Jay, and her older sister Deedy’s Dad was Davey, and he lived in Colorado. His Mother was Grandma Owens – who lived here. Her Grandma.

But wait a second…..after all those years, she realized – the bloodline did not cross. Her Grandma was not her Grandma by blood. She was not even related to her. How could this be?

She asked her mother when she got home, and her mother told her this story.

“When I was married to your Dad, and your brother was little, he did not understand. He heard his brother and sister calling her Grandma. He wanted to know who she was to him. He went to her with his big brown eyes and looked up at her. He said, ‘You my Ganmaw too? You my Ganmaw too?’ Grandma looked down at that little boy all of eighteen months old and her heart melted. She picked him up in her arms and said, ‘Yes, I your Ganmaw too.’ That is how she came to be your Grandmother, not by birth, but by love.”

Dear Grandma Owens,
You were the Grandma I was raised to love, and know. You cherished me like your own. You never withheld your affections, or your gift of them. The door to your heart opened wide for me and my brother. You welcomed us into your family, into it’s safety, and warmth. What a blessing you were to our young lives. You knew how much we loved our brother and sister, and you wanted to keep us all together on summer trips, and holidays. So you did. You took a sledgehammer to the ex-in-law boundaries, and what love is “supposed” to be. You bulldozed those walls. You loved us. And Grandma, we loved you too. Thank you for the gift of your affection. It is timeless to me. Timeless to us all. Our definition of family is different because of you. I promise, I will pass this gift on to every child I meet.
Love,
Your granddaughter

Grandma went to heaven, December 1st, 2008. Three days before her 91st birthday. She would have been 92 today. Happy Birthday, my sweet Grandma.

You are dearly missed, and dearly remembered.

The Final Chapter

On November 12, 2009November 12, 2009 By AngeliaIn DIVORCE, Life is what you make it.22 Comments

Not in NaNo, laws no! Not even close.

It is the final chapter of a long, drawn out, wanttorunawayandhide saga.

And honestly, I really debated about writing this at all, but it was such a significant part of my day and psyche, how could I not. I think getting it out, therapeutic for me, and maybe some of you can relate.

You see yesterday, I went to a lawyer. Now, I am not fond of visiting lawyers, doctors, or dentists. Well, actually I LOVE my dentist. Goodlookin’ blonde Norweigan, sweet and kind, yes I love him but not the stuff they do to my teeth – OW. Generally, don’t like the visit itself. I have actually gotten better about these kinds of “visits”, ~~as I get older and things start falling apart~~ I’m too old to care anymore, but I digress.

Yesterday, off I go, nerves wrecked – lawyer – blech. Now let me just tell you, I have put this off for TWO and HALF years. Yup. Just couldn’t deal with it. Why can I today? I am not sure. I think because if Jason and I take that step forward, I want to enter into our covenant completely free of my past. He deserves that. I deserve that.

So this visit is the final nail in the coffin, uhh, I mean the end of it. It’s a bankruptcy lawyer. Husband number two either refused to work, or when he worked he didn’t make ANY money, and I mean ANY. Oh, there were always excuses……bad day…..bad client….bad boss….bad hours…..the list goes on and on.

Point is supporting him, a daughter, two car payments, a house payment and ALL the bills (not to mention his penchant for things) on ONE measly travel agent salary just does not work without accumulating enormous debt. Enormous.

My credit was perfect when I met him, no bills, everything was paid off. I lived in a cheap two bedroom apartment that I loved. It was in a country town outside the city, you could actually SEE stars out there. It was great. How quickly that can unravel when the man you marry refuses to be so low as to live in an old apartment. And the country? Not for this city boy.

I am not blaming ALL the bills on him. Truth is I made the money, I could have put my foot down. I could have REFUSED things that he wanted. Honestly, I was just trying to keep the peace, he cycled so rapidly. His good days so few. He promised so many things and I believed some of those in errant….

Llike he would succeed at his commission paying job, like when we bought a house I couldn’t afford on my own that he would actually help, which he promised to do, like he SWORE he would, like he got really pissed at me for questioning him about.

I could go on and on, but seriously, WHY? It’s over and done, divorced finalized October 2007. I can cry, complain, and stress but it doesn’t change what happened. It doesn’t help me by dwelling on it. I have LEARNED from this. These are the things that make you stronger, tougher, smarter.

I learned to never, ever take good credit for granted. I’ve learned someone really has to back up their words with actions, or it’s no dice. I’ve determined so much, but I couldn’t FACE that last thing. Bankruptcy.

Maybe you don’t think I need bankruptcy, it’s just some credit card bills? Heck, do credit counseling! Let tell you, if it were that easy I would, but this man refused to put the house we I bought up for sale. It was one of two in the whole neighborhood with a game room. Plus, we had a nice upgrade, berber carpet throughout. It was unique. It would have sold.

Instead, he ~~squatted~~ lived there six months until he was evicted by foreclosure. The house SOLD within a MONTH of being back on the market (just like I thought). I had told him I’d give him the profit, he could have had a fresh start with money. Siiiiiigh.

If that were the only issue fine, foreclosure is not that bad, believe it or not. But the car he drove was in both our names. The car he never paid for, the one I paid for, so he didn’t pay that either, obviously since he never paid anything. It took them a year and a half to repossess it. A year and a half, he dodged them to keep driving that car for free.

They sent me a bill for $17,000 dollars. GULP.

My only choice is/was/and will be bankruptcy. To start over, to re-build, to finally have closure.

It wasn’t as bad as I thought, this happens in a lot of divorces. Not everyone has an amicable one where people actual work together. Some just get screwed, badly. In fact, most do.

I prayed a lot yesterday. I took my lumps. I faced my fears. I didn’t want this hanging over me anymore. It was finally time.

Plus, the ONE credit card I still had ($300 limit), I mainly used it for online purchases (to not risk my bank card). Well, they canceled me. I BURNED with shame of it. I had PAID that card off many times, never missed a payment. I can’t blame them though, they checked my rancid credit report. It reeks.

As anguished as I felt driving to that lawyers office (crying), I felt a spark of hope. Hope for my future, hope for a new start, hope for a final conclusion.

When I left that lawyers office, hope was on fire – blazing. I wanted to feel bad about the cost. I would be paying for this a loooong time, but not even that could bother me. My festive celebration could not be squashed, I did it!

The Final Chapter? Yeah, it’s a bankruptcy chapter. The end.

Maybe you have something in your past, holding you back from moving forward, the weight is heavy on your shoulders. Let it go. Put it down. As Jason’s five year old would say, “Be brave”. Then finally, walk away. The last page has been written. It’s time to start a new book.

Braving Love again-The Break

On October 8, 2009October 9, 2009 By AngeliaIn Better to be blessed, FAITH, In my heart forever & ever, Life is what you make it., LOVE14 Comments

Part Two-

It’s mid-October 2008, I have just made a very shoddy decision to stop seeing Jason. I felt it was the RIGHT thing to do. He wasn’t divorced yet. But I also felt, intense regret, immediately. Honestly? We had already been together five months. What the heck did it matter NOW?

I wish I could answer that. It just did. I didn’t feel like we were moving forward, and that is where I needed to go. But you bet, I back pedaled. As soon as I saw that little heart broken icon on Facebook. As soon as his name disappeared off my page, as soon as everyone in the ~~freeworld~~ Facebook world knew we were broken up. I wanted to take it back. Desperately.

I got all my stuff from his house at lunch time. I said good-bye to my best buddy Cooper, crying my heart out the whole way back to work. I was a basket case. I couldn’t eat. I knew what I’d lost. It broke me. I functioned as best as I could. I tried to keep myself occupied, too busy to think about it. We were still friends on Facebook. I found myself constantly checking his page, like a creepy obsessed ex.

Speaking of that…..crazy, is exactly how I felt. Every day, I had some excuse to text him or email him. I would wait to see if he would respond or not. If he hadn’t responded, I would have been consumed by the dejection. He always did. The responses were my life line.

The day of the Pumpkin Patch outing came. The day he was taking his wife, and daughters, as a family to pick out pumpkins. A family tradition. The night before, I was on my floor, face down, praying. Praying with all my heart, and soul, that IF their relationship could be healed. Heal it. For the children, who I loved. In hopes, that they might have both parents in their lives (which I never had).

Not only to have both parents in their lives, but to have both parents LOVE each other. A love restored. A miracle. I didn’t want them to reconcile just for the children. I wanted the family unit brought back together. So, the girls could be raised surrounded by love. True love. Without knowing the brokenness of divorce. My heart yearned for this to happen. If I had to give him up. By GOD, let it be for THAT.

I told myself, if he called me Saturday night, after the pumpkin patch, then the healing did not occur. I don’t even remember why he might call, probably because I texted him. He did call. It seemed like a sign to me. Okay, God, you didn’t bring them back together. Can I have him back now? I really don’t like being destroyed.

The phone conversation did not go well. I hinted about just putting this behind us. Chalking it up to learning. Forget the nonsense, let’s just get back together (how hard could it be?). I WAS WRONG. I AM ADMITTING THIS.

It didn’t matter what I said, he was hurt by my actions. He was closed down. He said, I was right. He needed time to heal. The divorce was taking it’s toll on him. It was a good thing to take time for himself. *nooooooooooo*

My normally strong, infallible, self did not take it well. This ending. This finality. Oh, it hurt. My gut wrenched. I cried, endlessly. I knew time would heal. I knew, eventually, I would move forward. It was just getting to that point.

I began exercising, every day (like I used to). I still wasn’t able to eat (swallow food). I lost weight. Within four weeks, I was easily swimming an hour. Running an hour. Spin class, weights, you name it. Basically, right back at my former fitness level.

My life became before Jason, or after Jason in terms of any events.

I decided to start dating. Not because I was over Jason, but because that was the ONLY way to keep my mind off of him. The endless, thinking and over analyzing of what happened, was beating me down. A good friend told me, “Don’t view dating as a relationship, but just as it is. A date.”

Fine, so I would date. I would learn the art of it. I would master dating as dates, rather than dating as in “relationships”. There is a difference, you know? I didn’t have much experience dating. I had tons in relationships.

I realize, I shouldn’t have subjected other people to my dysfunction at the time. I realize, I should have taken time to heal, and find myself; like I did when my marriage ended. I realize that. The reason I didn’t? I was mad. How could I lose the sweetest man in the world? Was it really necessary to push him into a corner? Did I really have to make him responsible for MY last relationship problems?

Dating seemed a fit punishment for my crime. For my idiocy.

I call the next season of my life, my power dating phase. Oh, it’s one for the books. It was bad. I was bad. Whichever you want to call it. I got a date, the same night, I signed up on a dating website. The SAME night. The guy asked me, “How long have you been on blank website?”. I answered, “Today”. HA. You should have seen his face. I was that coquettish. I became a pro dater, pro talker, pro dating site profile surfer. Maybe I was just myself, with no reservations. I really had nothing to lose. I could get a date faster than you could say…..What??? What?

Like I said, it passed the time. I met a lot of great guys, proudly, I call some friends. I exercised. I dated. I tried not to text, or email, or CALL, or Facebook, Jason. Daily. Hourly. This was so strange for me. I had NEVER had anyone turn me down (like he did, not wanting to date me again). I had never NOT gotten over someone like this. I consumed myself in activities, in hopes of consuming my thoughts of him. *life was HELL*

Finally the precious passing of time, started me on the road to recovery. Happy day. I met someone right before Thanksgiving, that I actually LIKED. He had a very true heart. He was funny and kind. I met him by my work, the first time, and the same week went to a Turkey fry at his Men’s Church group. He was a very active Catholic. Fun, silly and polite. It didn’t seem like he was playing the field. He was genuine and most importantly, honest. More available to hang out, than some of the other guys.

Life took a turn for me. I still thought about Jason, but it wasn’t as bad. I actually removed him as a friend on Facebook. It was the only way to stop obsessing over his page and news feeds. That was hard (we met on Facebook), but necessary for me to move on. Once I close the door, I am finished. I don’t ever find it, advantageous, to revisit past mistakes. I learn and move on. Period. That part of my life, with Jason, was behind me.

Apparently, someone else had other plans. December 9, 2008 – On a trip to Austin to visit clients, in a strange turning of events, I fell and injured my wrist. It swelled up, and began bruising right away. I couldn’t open the car door, or shake hands without excruciating pain. I put ice on it. I thought I had sprained it. Nothing like this had ever happened, I decided to go to Carenow and have it checked – just in case. Not any Carenow, but the Carenow by Jason’s house. Oh, it was an excuse, and a need. I was hurting. He was the one I wanted for comfort (of course).

When I called, he came. I will never forget, the instant, I saw him walk through the door. I was struggling over the paper work, trying to write. I couldn’t use my right hand! I glimpsed his profile through the glass, and looked up. My heart dropped. Literally. What a precious sight he was to me. I met his sky blue eyes, and smug, precocious look, with exuberant joy inside. I had longed for this. It was soooo good to see him.

In that split second, everything I had stuffed away the last two months bubbled up. All the hurt, all the pain, and the KNOWLEDGE. That I LOVED this man. THIS ONE RIGHT HERE IN FRONT OF ME, so incredibly much. Nothing, no amount of time, or space would ever change that. I knew. Simple as that.

That knowledge did me the least bit of good, sitting in that office, with a bum wrist. I soaked him up, relished every second like a bite of Lindt Milk Chocolate Truffle. My name was called (way too soon). I went inside, and he left. I was so happy to have seen him. Nothing mattered but that. Those moments are frozen in my mind. Forever. I will never forget. He was all I thought about through the exam, and x-ray. Life was good. The doctor came in the room to tell me the results of the x-ray.

Yeah. My wrist? The sore one? The swollen one? Broken in TWO places. Not one, no, not me, gotta do better than that. TWO. Ouch. *Are you serious?*

My first thought? This is a Carenow, what do they know? Turns out, they know broken bones. They gave me a splint, told me to see an orthopedic doctor to cast it as soon as possible. *Gulp, a cast?*

I got prescriptions for pain medicine, which I can hardly take, and by this time, it’s darn near 11pm. I NEED to stop by Jason’s on the way home. He loans me a pain pill. I’m STANDING in his house. I get to see Cooper. *Is this for real?*

I wasn’t there long. I have to head home. Broken splinted hand and all. We didn’t set any dates, or future get togethers. But you know what? I had HOPE. The spark was there. I hoped with everything I had.

The drive home was brutal. As much as I hoped? I was still scared. Scared, I wouldn’t see him again. Scared, that the hope was just sympathy, and being nice on his part. I didn’t know what had been going on in his life, if he was seeing someone, or not. I didn’t know. All I knew was this unbelievable pain. Tears poured down my cheeks. I could hardly see to drive. I was bent over, clutching my arm to my chest, hurting. This PAIN, could possibly bring us back together. And it was worth it. Every ache, every throb, every pang, was worth finding his love again.

We became friends again on Facebook. I added him, groveling. We talked more and more. I still dated my Catholic guy. I still dated period. I really didn’t know what to do. I felt like the ball was in his court. He knew how I felt about him. The door was open. Was he brave enough to step through?

The next two weeks, I got involved with the Christmas tree, for crisis kids, at my Church. The crisis kids are near and dear to my heart. Sydney and I adopted a family of three children that year. For some of these underprivileged kids? THIS is their ONLY Christmas gifts. This ministry is a part of my soul. I did everything I could to get each child an adopter, so they would have a Christmas. I worked every session in the lobby, telling people about these kids, and what they needed, and how they could help. I even got Jason to adopt one.

At the end of the last lobby session at Church, I still had three unadopted angels. I called, Jason, begging him to take one or even two. *Hey aren’t you a big wig manager? I adopted three plus one today and I’m poor. That’s FOUR. You only have ONE. Pleeeeease*

He took the ~~bait~~ adoption. I asked him later, if I could take HIM to the movies in repayment. He said, YES.

We saw the James Bond movie, that I couldn’t follow, because I don’t remember the one before that. But I remember what happened, he snuggled with me. It was heaven. Know what else? He was officially divorced as of December 8th , 2008. The day before I broke my wrist. *The DAY before*

Despite that, we were still not back together. I was still dating. I was out with my Catholic friend from the Turkey fry, when Jason called. He was trying to get the angel gifts finished. He heard him talking in the background to me (I was in the car with him) and he got a teensy bit jealous. *Heh*

FINALLY, FINALLY he wanted me back. Me. To himself. Not dating anyone else. Big, giant sigh of relief. Facebook relationship status changed to – in a relationship again – December 21st, 2008. *YES!*

I took him back alright. I grabbed him with both arms, even the gimp one. I have not let go since. I will not EVER take his love for granted. The missing piece? Gone. He loves me, like I had always hoped he would. He always had, but now, he does without hesitation. I cherish every moment, MORE, because of losing him.

The broken hand? I wore a cast for seven weeks to repair the bones. My brokenness inside? Filled up. My spiritual break from the joy of life? Renewed. I wonder. If I hadn’t fractured my shaker? How far off the track would I have gone? I won’t deny, I was in some comprising situations – many times. Where would I have ended up? WAS the break an accident? Or was it a testament to God’s faithfulness?

HE brought us back together. HE mended us (in more ways than one). HE soothed, all the insecurities, and made things right. *At just the right time*

I wish for you, a happy ending. I hope nothing ever keeps you, from holding on to your true love. Never let go. I know I won’t.