I wish someone had told me nine years ago that sometimes in marriage, you need to separate.
And that doesn’t mean you’re giving up. Or you’ve failed.
Somehow I always thought it was inevitable: separation is the first step on the slippery slope to divorce. Period. No alternative endings. No crawling your way back up the slope. (You guys, FYI, there’s no slope. It’s a stupid concept created to instill fear.)
I wish someone had told me separation can have purpose.
It can be a place of healing. Of growth. Of intention. Of deep intimacy with God that could not happen within the context of dysfunctional, hurting marriage.
That separation can be the thing that opens the lid of the pressure cooker called marriage.
I wish someone had told me that it was okay to be the needy ones sometimes.
That everyone takes a turn in that spot. That there’s no shame when it’s your turn.
I wish someone had told me that not only is it okay to ask for help, but that it’s actually an acknowledgement that God built us to need one another.
That the whole point of community proves itself when you’re in crisis and they’re there for you.
That community won’t fail you when you lean on it. It will show you it’s incredible strength.
I wish someone had told me that marriage would be the magic mirror that reveals all the ugly, broken, longtime hidden parts of you.
That God actually has a purpose for pain in marriage … to reveal those parts of us He wants to redeem. That the pain is a spotlight shining into those dark places and revealing the truth about our brokenness and need for Him to bring wholeness and healing.
And that if you allow that Light to penetrate the darkness, the darkness will flee.
I wish someone had told me that just because the world scripts things one way, that doesn’t mean they’ve got a copyright on the story.
They don’t get to script the ending.
We write the ending. It’s our story. It’s our adventure to choose.
And whereas the world might have said this is the end, we’ve just begun a new chapter…