I was newly married. Still blissful in our new life together.
Our little white house was perfectly decorated, like I had imagined. All of the presents from our wedding, were thoughtfully arranged in their new home. Ready for us to use them as we began our life as man and wife.
Just like my new house, my new marriage, to everyone else looked tidy and sweet. And it was sweet, very sweet. But marriage opened up more of my heart than I was ready to give.
Something special happened the day I married my husband, as it does on every wedding day. We agreed to a covenant relationship so precious, that like God walked down the isle of the split animals with Abram in Genesis 15, we walked down the center isle to one another before the Lord, too. In this beautiful covenant, we joined together as one. His beautiful life and mine were now joined together. And with the beautiful, came his messy too.
I clearly understood walking down the center isle meant I was agreeing to take his mess as mine, and I was okay with that. I love that man more than anything. He was the one I prayed for and dreamed about. But what I didn’t realize, was that I was agreeing for him to take
This was something I wasn’t ready for.
I married him, with A LOT of mess. Many years filled with broken, hard, dark, ugly, and painful mess. I didn’t realize just how messy my mess was, until we became one, and he saw it too.
Because my story shares other’s stories as well, just know that the mess was bad. I hope one day, I’ll be brave enough to share it, but now isn’t quite the time. It was a lot to work through. And being newly married, I needed someone outside of my life to look in and help me see the gospel in it.
I found myself sobbing in my parked car after coming home from a session with a tender counselor. She spoke healing and redemption over my very hurt heart.
It wasn’t something new. I had carried this pain for years. I learned to live with it. Operate around it. This pain, had become familiar to me. So familiar that I really forgot it was there.
Until then. When we became one.
It seemed to make it’s way out, timidly, in the safety of my new marriage. When this gentle, kind man, that I now called my beloved, saw what I had walked through, the pain of those years couldn’t stay hidden down in the depths of my heart any longer.
Not quite ready to walk in. I sat in my car. And cried.
All the years of hard, I had kept locked inside, found their way out of my heart, and landed as big drops of hot tears on my lap.
I remember crying out to the Lord, sitting in my car on that summer day, “Is all of this wasted? Are all of those years meant for nothing? Please tell me You will use this part of my story for some greater good other than mine. Because, yes, I love you more for those years. But please tell me they aren’t just meant to be for me. Please don’t let them be wasted.”
Almost seven years have pasted since that day. I have watched a very faithful God take those years of ashes and turn them into something beautiful in the garden of my heart. Although they are not forgotten, He has taken those memories and replaced them with those of healing. He has used my precious husband to “restore to me all of those years that the locust had stolen” (Joel 2:25). And I’m learning that nothing is ever wasted.
The three years of infertility treatments. The up and down of taking hormones. The emotional rollercoaster I traveled every single month. Crying and begging Him for a baby. Finding myself heartbroken over, yet another, baby shower invitation or pregnancy announcement. The countless hours I spent on my face before Him. All of those days have not been wasted.
*Thank you to
for the photos*