Sunday Shortie: Single Minded Morning


Another Sunday Shortie. A few quick thoughts, typed out fast, minimal editing.

Beautiful morning. The sun is shining,  the birdies are all twitter-pated. Coffee on the front porch, stiff and black. Neighbors running leaf blowers way too early.  A dog under my feet wanting a little rubdown.

I like freedom. I enjoy being single. Mornings remind me just how much I like this newest concept of alone time.

Most of my divorced friends and acquaintances  remarried, many within a  year of signing  papers. On the whole, they seem happy with their decision but I’m suspicious enough to wonder sometimes. Occasionally,  I ponder  this foreign concept of life with someone who actually likes you and wonder how the mornings play out.

I’m guessing they get up and smile at each other. Stumble through coffee without getting nervous enough to hit the carafe against the counter and shatter the glass. No one gets angry about grounds spilled in the sink.  They ask each other, ‘What do you want to do today?’  They might work together painting the bedroom or weeding the flowerbeds. They get more accomplished as two rather than one.

That sounds nice. It’s just not on my agenda.

Marriage is a commitment that takes work under the best of circumstances. I don’t understand those who want to jump back in so soon.  Maybe there’s something missing but I’m just not sure I’ll ever get enough of this blessed stillness.

I Like It Here

Mornings were never my own. I gave away thousands to someone hell-bent on their destruction. Control was his thing. Keeping us all off balance, forever focused on the minutia of his ever changing demands made his day. And I am tired.

During those last few years before escape, I learned to find God in moments stolen between explosions. I’d sit on the deck, quiet my troubled heart and listen. No laundry list of prayer requests, no deliver-me-or-I-perish drama. Just me and my Creator and a few quiet moments to worship for His infinite goodness.

These days,  I wake up slow and ask what’s on the Father’s agenda. I tell Him how wonderful He is. Coffee on the porch, then inside for some time working on His latest project. I tell Him about the kids as if He didn’t already know and ask advice on the latest crisis. Grab a plate of grits and head back out in jammies. He’s never complained, not once. My Lord makes me smile.

Nothing explodes, no one outlines my duties for the day, then tells me exactly how things will be done or else. God has yet to push me against the counter, trap me in a corner or block my way out of the refrigerator. I’m learning I don’t have to look over my shoulder all the time.

I’m free to serve God and serve others. That’s a privilege I don’t take lightly, one I don’t particularly want to give up. I do understand the Father can heal through new relationships. I also fully believe that the One who formed me in my mother’s womb can heal all the hurting places. In fact, I’m counting on it.

Now every morning, I turn to Jesus and see if He wants coffee. So far, He hasn’t taken me up on the offer but who knows?

There’s always tomorrow.

5 responses »

  1. Should I ever get really free, I can’t imagine jumping back into the fray, either. I like what you have written here, love what you are doing. Seems like you are right on track and I applaud you.

    Love and {{{hugs}}} ~ Anna

    • I guess its just where I’m at. Certainly not trying to criticize anyone who feels differently. If I’d left when I was younger and still had some reserves, I imagine I would have felt much different. Rushing back in seems to be problematic regardless of how you feel on the subject.

      Taking time to heal and grow in grace can only strengthen you for wherever the Lord leads.
      I heard of one woman recently going on her fourth marriage, all to abusive men. The first three each had a slightly different flavor. What she doesn’t realize is that while she thinks number four is the man of her dreams, he’s just as bad, maybe worse. She can’t see the pattern or the underlying issues. That’s just scary.

  2. Ida Mae – Grits and bluebirds and sunshine. Are you sure? Cold, hail, snow flurries, with daffodils and crocus starting to sprout. Springs are weird here in Oregon.

    Boy, I don’t know. Someone who has been an abuse survivor marrying within a year. Guess it’s their decision but – my abuse has come through the pious pillar saints in the local church. I have “remarried” twice after my first abusive pastorate, lured by the holy call of , doggone it, the finest Christian folk on the face of this planet. Got burned both times with more pious pillar abusers. It was all the Lord’s doing and I wouldn’t be involved in these present ministries if I hadn’t been beat up for 20 more years. But given my experience, I can tell you that there are abusive men (and some women) lurking all over out there waiting to pounce. So go very slooooooowly is my advice.

    Would there be any possibility of establishing a Reformed Baptist nunnery? Of course, from the nunnery movies I’ve seen, all the Mother Superiors are abusive, so – probably just wouldn’t work. Sounds to me like what you’ve got going there is a pretty good option. You are in a good spot, really good.

  3. Sunshine today, blizzards tomorrow. Everything around here is confused.

    Marrying within a year is like the lottery. Maybe you’ll win but the chances are mighty slim.

    The idea of a cloister sounds pretty good– nice, high walls, lots of art and music and a few rabbits in the garden. But I’m told I’m bitter and jaded and refuse to submit to proper male authority so what do I know?

  4. Ida Mae, you don’t need a cloister. You have the porch and the garden and the free air and birds and most of all the gentle prompting of God that you are FREE to obey, because you aren’t bound by an anti-husband who controls every thing to uplift his sick ego and tread you into his foul-smelling mire. Life after abuse does not mean having to choose between ‘cloister’ or ‘remarriage’. The options are far more multitudinous than that. You’re resplendent as an example of not fitting any restricted pre-determined mold. For freedom Christ has set us free.

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