Oh, 2020. If I could have predicted what you would mean for me in my life I think I would have skipped you. Ha.
The truth is, this year was necessary for me. Extremely painful in so many ways, but necessary. And I have hope for the future. It will look drastically different than what I thought at the beginning of the year, but let's just chalk that up to 2020.
I have become aware of sin in my life. In my many imperfections. In my honesty as a human being and in the fact that my marriage--to a man I deeply love--is regrettably coming to an end--a shocking end for me--while my husband says it has been a long time coming. I just did not know. Why?
Our covenant. We have both broken it in different ways. Our dreams and hopes for the future will look differently moving forward. My Andy....gone. Even on the most difficult days of loneliness and disengagement I have loved being his wife and have tried to love and serve him well and have never wanted to cause him any pain. I still do not want to cause him pain. I love him. Husbands--cherish your wives. They need you. Wives--communicate with your husbands in a way that both are uplifted and able to comprehend.
I had no idea this is what 2020 would have in store for me. For us. For my family. For the world.
Shortly before Christmas last year, Andy told me that our marriage was loveless but loyal. Ouch. I did not feel the same way. So we eventually embarked upon counseling and looking introspectively at ourselves. He had been emotionally distant for a considerable amount of time and when I tried to discuss it he would brush me off. The timing just was never right to really have a deep conversation and so I tended to the boys, mainly alone, and to the Army and carried on with life. I did not realize that we were both hurting so deeply inside. We had no space and privacy as a family living on a compound with other officers and clients and the distance between us grew. My loneliness grew and I felt like I was living in a cage at home and felt unsafe. So did Andy in his own way.
I asked for pastoral counsel from our leadership and confided in a few, but every one of those relationships transitioned as Covid came and the entire leadership of our Command changed in a few months and friends went on sick leave...and we were...still there...alone and struggling. So I confided in a family in Italy and my Italian 'mamma.' They became my greatest champions and still are today. They know me and love me anyway. They are a gift.
My husband left me and did so dramatically making a unilateral decision with The Salvation Army in mid-August. He told me in a meeting with our Command Leader in his office and, less than two weeks later, I was forced to uproot life and move 5,000 miles to a city where I am extremely isolated and alone. Loss of identity in so many ways. Loss of my husband. Loss of a ministry I felt fulfilled in. Loss of relationships. Loss of love and support. And, one of the worst pains for me, the loss of my in-laws whom I love and miss so deeply words cannot express.
Lots of pain, heartbreak and trauma abounds. Andy was...is...gone. So are his parents. I grieve that so much and will for a long time. My love. My sweetheart.
No one should feel sorry for me and I am not asking that. In fact, no one reads this anyway, but I need to process some of my trauma and some of what the Lord is revealing to me.
The only thing guaranteed in life besides death is the steadfast love of the Lord. This year has taught me that I am a person, not property, and am worthy of love. God's love for me is faithful and true. In searching the scripture these few months in isolation in Atlanta I am convinced of this more so now than ever before. God is faithful. He is my refuge. My savior.
I am convinced of my calling to the mission of the Army as an overseas officer, more now than ever. But it will look differently moving forward. I am processing what that looks like and am trusting God to be faithful. My faith is strong and this priority of perspective has been re-aligned for me. I pray for its leaders and the burden of responsibility they carry to make decisions as they are often overworked and exhausted. I pray for the future of the Army and realize that it does not need me nor I it. All will survive.
This year has also revealed to me how I disassociate from pain and deny the reality of things. In fact, I did not realize this until a group of men showed up to our home in Rome to pack it and I could not stay in the house for more than five minutes. I had to run away and did so to my office where I worked. That was not healthy. I was trying to survive and did so the only way I knew how in that moment--with my uniform on working for the mission and believing that was the right decision. Meanwhile my husband was directing our house to be packed and prepared to go to two separate homes across the ocean.
My commitment to my children is a priority. It always has been as I know I am a good mother, but my personal needs and desires come second to theirs. Andy wanted to take the boys to the US without me. Part of me died inside when he told me this and when our Colonel recorded this in his notes for the meeting when Andy told me he was leaving me and returning to the US. That pain, and a few situations that followed, have left open wounds in my soul that I am struggling reconcile and am prayerful that, with time and wise counsel, will begin to heal. I wanted to remain in Italy as a family of four and work on issues. That was not an option for me as decisions were made on my and the children's behalf without my input.
Family is important and should not be neglected. I love my family. I grieve that I am a 12 hour car ride from them during a worldwide pandemic and long for human touch and an adult hug from someone who loves me. It has not happened in Atlanta, regrettably.
I have learned that there are many superficial relationships in Christian ministry and I do not think this was God's intention. I have realized that many do not have the emotional or spiritual band-with to help carry the load of some heavy things. I have asked for spiritual help from those I trust spiritually and people have not been able to provide it for the most part. This has been extremely disappointing to me. Pastoral care for our wounded needs to be a priority.
There have been a few times in my life when I have felt a strong connection to God. These times have usually been in contemplative prayer, reading scripture, or with performing music. These are the times when I have received direction from God and have obeyed and it has not always been easy. Striving for a life of holiness while journeying with God is not easy. It is not always fun and it doesn't not always smell sweet. Sometimes it stinks. Badly. But we grow, learn, digest, re-plant, cultivate and move on. We do this with or without distraction. I am learning that the 'doing' for God became a distraction for me that was not holy.
In a prayer night vigil in our chapel in Rome on the last Friday of May I had an intimate time with God and felt him revealing some things to me that were earth shattering. He revealed that I needed to be willing to sacrifice my marriage. What? How does that line up with scripture? It did not make sense. And so I processed that for the next couple of months thinking I was crazy and mis-hearing from God.
I was also processing how devalued I have felt as a married woman officer, particularly in the heavily male dominated structure in Italy and how unjust this was for other women officers and how, it too, was impacting my marriage in a negative way. Andy is not the enemy--just a son of the regiment and a by-product of its system.
The night before I was called to a meeting in our Command Leaders office when they told me Andy was leaving me and all of this was happening, I spent time on our roof pouring my heart out to God as I attempted to sing and worship through my many tears. Andy was out of the house and I was alone on the roof under the stars and had what became a beautiful evening. I received confirmation that everything would be okay and was reminded of some of the promises of scripture. I slept peacefully that evening.
The next day would change the course of my life forever. I am thankful for that evening under the stars on our roof in Rome. This is the same roof where we had our weekly marital counseling sessions over Zoom for the Covid lockdown months.
When I look at the trajectory of my life I see that God exists and that He is faithful. He has everything under control. My old Sunday School teacher reminded me recently that 'we are the dumb ones who do not know the plan' (thank you, Viejo). My ailing grandfather reminded me that life is silly.
My best friend reminds me daily that I am worthy of love and that I do not need to feel guilty about being my own person. God created me and while He is deeply refining me, He has created me to be a loving person. And that person is beautiful.
The pain of my soul is deep. My older brother reminds me to keep things in perspective. My sister reminds me that we should spoil ourselves every now and again. My brother Luke protects me with vigor. Other friendships of the past--which I have regrettably neglected for the last 13 years--have reminded me that there are people who love and care for me, even if they live far away. A retiring officer recounted for me her divorce experience when her children were young and how she left her officership for fifteen years, but that God is faithful in the end. A married woman officer has recounted to me her dissatisfaction in her marriage and her fear to speak up about it as she hides from the world on attempting to keep it all together....and I know that I am not alone.
I am wounded, but not dead. Hope is on the horizon. And I am looking forward to 2021.
