In the wee hours of the morning I gazed with tear stained eyes at the ring on my little finger. I was shocked but at the same time had known all along it would play out that way. He had broken up with me so many times I’d lost count. I don’t know why I thought it would be different once marriage was on the table but I wanted to believe it would be. Pain gripped my heart as memories flooded my mind of saying yes to the dress and flipping through bridal magazines. Plans were made and a date was set.
However pathetic, I begged him to change his mind as we spoke over the phone past midnight. After he’d dropped such a bomb on my heart I couldn’t let him hang up. “Please don’t hang up. This hurts so bad. How could you do this to me?!”…
No matter how many times I come home to an empty house it still feels lonesome. When I was single, I dreaded my vacant apartment thinking “Maybe one day I’ll have a husband to come home to.” Then I married my husband who worked until midnight for the first 2 years of our marriage. It always felt hard to drive to the place we called home knowing it would be many hours before he’d arrive. I’d say “Maybe some day he’ll have normal hours so I don’t have to be alone at night.”
That season was almost harder than my season of singleness and unfortunately I’m not sure I responded with as much faith as I did when I was single.
God had given me what I wanted but in my heart it felt like I only received half my portion.
Expectations of cooking my husband dinner and watching our favorite show or reading the bible together weren’t met.…