love never gives up

I sat at the table in the kitchen, feigning interest in an autobiography. Some other girl's life. Some other girl's problems.

He had returned briefly to retrieve the last of his things. Not everything, just the things he wanted to carry into his new life. Get rid of the rest, he told me.

Exactly three weeks prior, my knees had hit this kitchen floor when he announced that he was filing for divorce. It was the first time that ugly word had crossed between us. 

I listened as he carried boxes down from the attic and rummaged through boxes in the basement. Load by load, packed into his new car. He seemed undeterred, I thought, un-bothered.

Before he left, he turned to me. He reported, without emotion or concern, that he had given up.

I continued to sit with the book in my hands, failing to fight tears and staring into the small, flickering flame. The candle that was received three years ago as a wedding gift, in fact.

I did not have words. No words could fix this.

But I did speak. One more chance.

"As long as I'm married, I'm willing to work on my marriage."

Despite the betrayal and despite the lies, God had formed these words of grace within me. These words that I had practiced and prepared to say.

The words fell on ears, uncaring.

He took his mail and shut the door; taillights disappeared down that dirt road one last time.

So I take the pictures off the walls, rearrange the furniture, repaint the bedroom.

I fall on my knees before God and reach out to every lifeline. And I see God's faithfulness. I know that He has worked behind the scenes in anticipation of each moment to soften the blows, to break my fall. Each day it looks different; a call, a text, a visitor at just the right time to pull me through to the next moment. But each day I feel His presence and lean into the hope that only He can offer.

And I know that this that I have experienced is not love. Because love never gives up.



*written seven weeks ago