I’m not exactly sure what it is about this time of
year. It might be that it marks the
anniversary of when I was married (one of the happier times of my life), or
that it marks the anniversary of the exhausting period of time when I had to
dig my feet in and literally fight for my marriage (one of the worst times of
my life). It might have something to do
with the fact that this is a time when, inevitably, I help my children to cope
with some disappointment brought on by their dad. Or it may just be the simple fact that I go
to ball game after ball game and cheer for my kids alone, while their dad has
the luxury of sharing that experience with someone. Whatever it is, I seem to do a lot of looking
back in the rear view mirror during these summer months and thinking about the
“what-ifs” of my life. What-ifs can be
pretty depressing, so I do try to minimize them as much as possible. But, everyone needs a little pity-party once
in a while…right?!
Ten years ago, I remember being in the hospital room with my
husband holding our first-born son. In
the quiet of that moment, I remember telling him that we could have no regrets
after that moment because without those regrets we wouldn’t have had that
precious baby. He cried when I told him
that, and looking back now, I am sure it had something to do with the amount of
guilt and regret that weighed so heavily on his heart that he was too afraid to
share with me. But since that day, I
have held to the belief that life should be lived without regret. That everything in our life happens for a
reason, the good and the bad. The good
things are great, but the bad things are life’s lessons that make us into the
person that we are becoming. I don’t
know for sure where this thought came from or when I started believing it, but
I think it probably comes from an underlying faith that I have always had. I have never considered myself to be a
religious person (whatever that means), but I think that I have always been a
woman of faith. I grew up going to
church and being involved in the church all through school, but when I went
away to college that all ended. My ex
did not and would not go to church with me and, for some reason, I just could
not bring myself to go alone…so I didn’t.
When he left us, I felt lost and alone and found myself crying and
praying a lot. Although it was something
that I hadn’t done in a very long time, my prayers came easily and brought me
comfort. They brought me back to where I
needed to be. In all of my despair, I
knew that He was listening and that he loved me.
