Not a Chance in Hell

by debi9kids on September 27, 2010

There is this picture that is placed right next to my entry-way door. It’s a broken heart with the word “Forgive” written under it. I honestly never thought much of what the picture represented, I just liked how it looked at the time when I bought it. The colors matched my kitchen and it was cute and rustic like my decor.
Funny how we do things like that… purchase things that mean nothing to us and yet, years later, suddenly, the message and image means everything.

Just yesterday I was heading out the door to go to the grocery store and I stopped in my place as my eyes laid on the picture. My breath actually caught and I thought, wow, the signs are everywhere. They are little things that I, myself, have placed around my home when they meant nothing but “pretty”, and now, I look at them as signs from God, strategically placed as reminders.

And, boy, I need the reminders.

In case you might be getting the wrong impression by my posts, I am not doing as well as you might think. I am angry. All.the.time.
I do pray often to keep myself from exploding, but most days I am barely keeping it together.

I am so frustrated with Russ, so angry with him for ruining our lives, so angry that he threw away what we had just for sex.
Understand, our marriage was not perfect….
We have been really, really good parents, but we have been so/so husband & wife.
We let things go, took our life for granted.
Or, I should say that I did.
Clearly I thought that so/so would get us by and clearly, it didn’t.
We allowed our life, our marriage, to become…. stale.

Stale.
It’s a horrible word, especially when used to describe a marriage.
But it’s true.
We got way beyond comfortable and although we both complained about it, we did nothing to change it.
Because it was too much effort.

Lord.
Too much effort. Ha!
To think I thought that was too much effort.

Now the effort is not killing him.
The effort is not taking a frying pan to his head while he’s sleeping….
The effort is not jumping in my van and driving to her house and reaming her out.
The effort is not embarrassing her in front of her children like she did to me.
The effort is in doing the right thing and, holy cow, I can not tell you how difficult that is most days.

So, I pray.
And thank God for the reminders that I find all around me that keep me going,
Keep me heading in the right direction.
Because Lord knows I couldn’t be doing this alone.
Not a chance.

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