Forever Beloved

I have four weddings to edit, countless other sessions as well, an uncooperative leg, a boy in school, a girl wanting her drivers permit, an egg eater somewhere in my coop and 3 sassy roosters that flog daily.  To say this week is stressful it putting it lightly. If there is one thing I could use right now, it’s a good laugh. So, let me take y’all back a few years…

My grandma was a patient in the hospital and I was staying overnight with her. She had a nice little sweet-as-pie roommate who we will call “Edna”. Edna was 91 years old and she was so sweet and soft-spoken. On this evening, Edna started getting a “new” IV antibiotic which made her start acting a little off. I should have thought something was up when Edna asked me if the yellow things on the floor were off the trees but…I let it go {mistake #1} I mean, if your 91 and you want to say a few CRAZY things I think you are entitled to.

Grandma fell asleep around 10, hallelujah.  I was sitting in the chair by the bed reading a magazine. Edna woke up and started crying so I scurried over to help her.  I wanted to help her and keep her from waking Grandma back up.  She didn’t know where she was or why she was there, which broke my heart. She was so super scared and asked for a drink of water. I walked around the bottom of the bed and poured her some water {mistake #2} When I went to hand it to her she screamed “get out of my house” and punched me in the face. Seriously, is this even real life?

During the day, Edna couldn’t hardly walk.  She certainly couldn’t walk on her own and had to use a walker.  She didn’t need her walker then, geesh, she chased me like she was a 20 year old spring chicken.

She chased me while yelling for the police, saying I was stealing her jewelry and money. Some where along the way she picked up her bed pan and hit me in the head with it. Repeatedly.  It was empty, thankfully.  At least I hope it was.  I kept thinking “a nurse is going to come running in and rescue me any time now“.  Nope.  I’m convinced they knew it was happening, but it was so entertaining they just hated to break it up. 

She chased me clear out into the hallway and a little ways down the hall.  Then the nurses came and got Edna, she kept telling them about the woman in her house stealing her jewelry and money. And I stood in the hall and cried my eyes out. I’m sure the nurses laughed like crazy about that one. Eye roll. Me, not so much of laughing. 

My clothes were soaked.  We’re going to say from the water she threw on me and not the other option, because I know that bedpan was empty.  Just go with it and humor me.  I had to go call my husband to bring me clothes.  So I go outside and call.

me:  Joe {sobbing uncontrollably}

him:  What’s wrong?  Is Grandma okay?

me:  Her roommate just hit me {more sobbing}

him:  What?  What roommate?  Edna?

me:  Yes, she thought I was stealing her jewelry or something.  She hit me with her bedpan.  And punched me in the face.

him:  Silence.  And quiet laughter.  

Then I thought I’d call my Mama.  Because you know if you want sympathy, you call your Mom!  Except that call went just about the same way.  And it ended with her saying “You know a 91 year old woman just kicked your butt”.  

Joe brought me clothes and Edna, bless her heart, was moved to a different room that was private.  And I settled into my chair-bed for the night and slept with one eye open.

I realized today that I’ve never actually shared my testimony here.  I mean, I have a button up there that you can click on and read it, but how many people actually do that?  I would, if I was you, simply because I’m nosy.  So today, I give you my testimony.

I sat motionless in my chair, listening to all the other women give their testimonies. What would I even say when my turn came? I’ve never even truly thought about what my testimony would be. Their stories held me spellbound. They were stories of strength, of sorrow, of pain and God’s grace. How would my little story of “I grew up in a Christian home and have always gone to this church” compare to that?

I left ladies bible study that day inspired, amazed and frustrated. God had worked in these women’s lives and their powerful stories touched hearts. I’ve heard so many powerful testimonies over the years, all filled to the brim with God’s amazing grace. I left that day determined to figure out, think on, document and write my testimony.

I grew up in an amazing, stable Christian home. At nine years old, I prayed with the Pastor’s wife after children’s church and asked Jesus into my own heart. I can count on one hand the number of Sundays I missed during my childhood. It was just a given, Sunday morning meant worship. I never went through a rebellious period and questioned that. I adored every part of church, from the Wednesday night teen group to sitting in the back pew Sunday mornings with all my friends.

Then it happened, that one thing that makes you step back and struggle with doubt about Christianity. As I graduated high school, a small get-together was held at church. A very prominent man in the church, an elder, one that people respected, came over to talk to me. He congratulated me and gave me a hug. During the hug he whispered in my ear “we know what you’ve been doing and it isn’t very Christian-like, we’ve been praying for you“. To say I was shocked is an understatement. I stood there, my mouth gaping open, trying to process what had just happened.  I was terribly embarassed and looked around to see if anyone else had heard.  The “horrible” actions he spoke of with such disgust were me dating a boy who wasn’t of our same religion. At that point Sunday mornings became a challenge. How could I go to church and face someone who felt so terribly about me?

My college years were spent pretty far from God. I might have been sitting in church Sunday morning, but I certainly didn’t take God along with me when I left. Church was really more of an afterthought. I would go if I had time or wasn’t too busy. It certainly wasn’t my first priority anymore.

Not long after college I met my husband. It was a whirlwind romance; met in February, engaged in May and married in June. I’m totally going to admit, I don’t think there was one time while we were dating that we spoke about God. We didn’t really ask each other what our religious beliefs were, what our thoughts were on church or how we wanted to raise our children. And here we were, a young married couple trying to survive in a divorce-ridden world.

We had babies super quickly, one the first year of marriage and the next our third year of marriage. I’m sure glad that didn’t complicate our relationship (eye roll). So now we were young people who hadn’t known each other very long, newly married and now raising babies. You can see the writing on the wall, can’t you? Throughout our first few married years, we might have attended church a few times a year.  We were the holiday-ers.  You could count on us there Christmas, Easter and for the Bible School program.

I always knew when it came to my babies, I wanted them to have the exact same Christian foundation and upbringing that I did. So I worked hard to instill those values and morals in them. I read them Bible stories from the same book my Mama read to me. I knew they needed that stability.  What I didn’t think about was they needed their parents to lead by example.

The first few years we were married, it was hard. We were living two separate lives, basically strangers simply co-existing in the same household. We had endured affairs, hurt, heartache and pain but yet it wasn’t enough to wake us up. We continued to take turns being the villain, shifting blame from one to the other. And we didn’t guard our hearts, ever.

Then it happened, the day I had dreaded. My husband left. He walked out the door and left the children and me. I was broken. Totally broken. But in that moment of brokenness somehow I knew exactly what I needed to do. Even though I had ignored God for years, in that moment He was seeking me. He was nudging my heart, telling me to come to him. And I got on my knees.

If you’ve read my blog for any amount of time, you know how this part of the story goes.  God planted the seed of forgiveness in my heart.  Not only forgiveness, but the seed of hope as well.

God also let me know that I need to do a little lot of work on myself and in my own heart.  He showed me that I had allowed Jesus to take a backseat to life, along with my marriage.  Actually, my marriage might have been in the back seat but Jesus was in the trunk.  I was busy living Amy’s life.  And I simply didn’t have time for Jesus to trip me up while I was busy having fun.  Or at least what seemed like fun at the time. Once I realized that, asked for forgiveness and started to nurture my relationship with Jesus THAT’S when things started to change, when I started to change.

Our love story didn’t end there. It had lots more chapters to it, and is still being written. The reward of restoration was well worth the wait. And I am eternally thankful that our love was rescued by God ♥ I adore the beautiful God-scripted love story I have.

God not only restored my marriage but He also drew this broken girls heart right back to Him. He mended my broken, angry, damaged heart. He picked it up, held it in His hands and put it back together piece by piece. God has drawn me closer to Him than I have ever been. God has changed me in ways that words can’t even begin to describe. He has transformed the way I think, speak, love and live. Things that were once important to me aren’t any longer. I am so thankful to be a daughter of the King!!! Do you know Jesus? Because He sure wants to know you!