They say it takes half the time you were with someone to fully “get over” them. I wonder about this some days and think “man, I’m doing pretty well.”

And then other days…

I accidentally torture myself with wondering where he is and what he’s doing. Who he’s with and what makes him happy, now. I wince even typing this out, because these are things I don’t tell people. I don’t admit in public that I still wonder where it actually derailed and when wouldn’t have been too late. I know that it is too late and that there was a point of derailing. I don’t despise that “it” is over, anymore, and I am thankful for the perspective. I didn’t know if I would get to a place where I could say that and it really be true. 

But, it is. My genuine thankfulness is proof that Jeremiah heard God rightly. I am so very hopeful and my future is bright.

But some days, I miss his long, sharp face, and I wish that things were different. I think about the family that so loved me and scooped me into their culture and cooked me into themselves and I deeply miss them. I have recovered from the deep, gaping wound, but I feel bruised occasionally. I can’t make a cobbler -of any kind- without it stirring up memories of his mom in her kitchen and thinking about her dashing around and all the freshness there. She always had fresh. She called blueberries “blubes” and each person she loved had a shorter name than their given one. I loved it. I miss the tangibles, but am thankful for their once very evident expressions.

Those people were real and I loved them. Those chapters of my life were good and I am thankful for them. Isn’t it incredible that the God of the universe knows the hairs on my head, and the people I would sit with, and learn from, and know, and he knows how to pull me to know Himself better. So I am thankful for those years, and those meals, and the love shared, and the broken-ness that leads me ever back to my Creator. Blessed be His name. His ways are not my ways, and thank goodness. I am small. He is great.

And like that Sunday-school song, “He has the whole world in His hands…” As an adult I have a whole new appreciation for the ability to hold the whole world and yet also, so specifically care for one tiny thing in it. Gracious, the ability to MULTI-task….

Blows my mind… but thank goodness that’s His job. Not mine.

My job is to live. My job is love hard and long with those in my life and to ever seek out His love and goodness, and believe that He is working. My job allows me the opportunity to appreciate how intricately we are all finely woven into His perfection. How much He loves me… To give me all that I have. I thought for months that I had lost a “love” that would define me, my divorce threatened who was… Oh, but to know that I am a daughter of a most high King, who wants all of my attention, not for any other reason more, but, that He is crazy about me…

I know, I know. Kinda sounds ridiculous, but I look at my besties… they love me so well… they are so constant and willing to love me! And my family… graceful and abundance on display… And I look at The Pup, and as silly and frivolous as a pet is, I think about what frivolous LOVE looks like…. It blesses because it can, not because it has to, or is needed.

I don’t need most of what I have, but He is so good to frivolously lavish me with things that make me happy. He wants to see me happy… Cool.

Oley. Oley. Alla. He is good. All is good.

Oh to know the Father………


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