Some of the Time

Some of the time I am better.  Stronger.  Hopeful.  Able to stand up.  Some of the time I am courageous.  Purposeful.  Positive.  No, not all of the time.  But, it was NONE the time....growth.  It's slow.  And yet, for me, it feels huge. 
Sometimes when I am writing on here, I laugh out loud...it's as if I figure that I'm writing to nobody.  But there is a part of me...deep in my soul...that knows that part of who I am is the person who needs to record her story.  To let other people see and maybe be helped.  Not by my answers.  Not by my strength.  Perhaps most of all by my weakness.  By the fact that I'm pretty ordinary.  I do pray for any of you that find this blog.  You are on my heart as I write.  Not that I know you by name.  Not that I know your circumstances.  But, because you are loved, adored and have purpose.  No matter what you have heard.  No matter how much you believe that life is too hard.  You are not alone. 
I know, I write.  That's what I do.  It is what builds me back up.  My husband has laughed at my wanting to be a columnist.  Maybe this is the way that I strike back?  Not with words nor with fighting...but with the truth of what is in my heart to be and do.
I am able to teach.  Though I can't find a teaching job.  I will substitute.  But, the thing is, I desire to write.  To tell the stories of lives.  Lives that hurt.  Lives that heal.  Things that are absolutely miraculous and things that seem to have no answers at all.  I want to tell my story.  I am compelled to do so.  Not to be a superstar.  Not to compare with someone else....but to possibly, in some way, to reach someone who is feeling hopeless. It is as if the christian world has become a place where only those who are doing it "right" are welcome.  And, I don't know what "right" is.  I know that God desires us.  Our hearts.  Our worship.  I know that I am not holy but that Christ in me is holiness....I don't even pretend to get all of that.  I just know that He has changed my life.  He has been my hope.  He has been my constant.  For that, I am thankful. 
So, some of the time, and it's becoming a larger part of time, I am able to believe that I might have purpose.  That I might be worth loving.  As stubborn, obnoxious, hard-hearted, unkind and mean as I've been told that I am....maybe, possibly, even I am worth loving.  Maybe?  I hope so.  I really do.  Because believing it will keep me writing.  Keep me knowing that my story has value.  A purpose. 
Some of the time, even if it's just for a moment, all is right.  No, not in my marriage, but in my heart.  In there being truth.  And as hard as it is to walk in that truth, there is something about it that is hopeful.  That gives me a sense that no matter what people think of me, it has no power over me.  I am learning.  Often on my own.  Sometimes with others.  I am a great observer of people.
And, some of the time, I wonder if there is any hope at all for me.  But those times are diminishing.  It's mostly when people who don't know what is going on put me in an awkward position...or those who do know try to make it better by making me behave in my marriage a certain way.  I did that.  Whether anyone knows it or not.  And now, I have to decide.  Purposefully.  Prayerfully.  I just can't even imagine a life with him anymore.  No trust.  I kept believing him for so long.  But all he wants is for him to feel better.  Not me.  For him, becoming one meant I diminished until "we" were just him.....and I can't do it.  And I still feel guilty for that.  But less so.  It's the whole church thing that does it.  Otherwise, I would have called it quits already. 
Some of the time I have glimpses of what can be.  And that's enough.  I walk in joy knowing that it's a journey, an adventure.....and I'm not being graded.  I simply need to do life gently, kindly and yet.....truthfully.  And that gives me hope.
grace to you.