When life gives you lemons, make lemonade.

Today was an interesting day. I spent my time preparing some paperwork for Social Security. Midday I headed to Oroville to the Department of Records to get a copy of my marriage certificate. It was a nice drive and I was coasting along, happy at heart. This was a good day, and I was feeling it.

Now at the building, I input the information on a computer screen and then waited to be helped. Next it was my turn. I told the clerk that I was requesting an ‘old’ copy. She smiled when I said 1980. She had thought 1800’s when I said old. She said it would take a minute to print the marriage certificate.

The clerk handed me the marriage certificate. I’d not seen it before today, having had only a handwritten complimentary copy all these years. I looked at my ex-spouse’s name and my name, the year, the pastor who officiated, my friend Ronda D. and his friend Randy S. who were witnesses of our marriage. It startled me as I looked at it, and I remembered. My mood altered as I viewed the marriage certificate. A strange mixture of emotions came over me. I felt warmth, regret, sadness, happiness for that day, the joy of our children, and the everlasting melancholy that marked our marriage relationship. I had loved and lost.

I loved my mate with an innocent love. That love and my belief in our marriage had carried me through thick and thin, heavy on the thin. I was naive about a lot of things. I didn’t know what I was dealing with in our troubled marriage. That the marriage had been dissolved just days short of 22 years, was a testament to human resiliency and God’s faithfulness. We both had tried in our own ways. The flower had faded. For a while I faded too, after it ended. Pain does that to you. I’m still sorry our marriage didn’t make it. But it wasn’t for lack of trying.

At my daughter’s wedding this past June, I saw my ex again. We exchanged a few pleasantries. He came over to my house for a meal with my extended family, and it was okay. When you’ve lived with someone for two decades, you know them pretty well. The way they talk, their gestures, the way they laugh, and the way they carry themselves is so familiar that it all comes rushing back. You can almost predict what they’re thinking.

It’s a few months shy of 20 years since we divorced. Neither of us has remarried. I’ve learned a tremendous lot since my world fell apart. God does make beauty from ashes. It’s sad that the kids get hurt in the process. Dysfunction is damaging. They’re doing pretty well now, I’m happy to say. But it’s not been easy. I tried so hard to protect them from getting hurt, yet they got hurt anyway. Why? There are reasons, but they no longer matter. We have picked up the pieces and trudged on. That’s a good thing.

One day I was talking to God like He was in the room with me. It was during those days of sorrowing for all I had lost, about a year after we divorced. I had lost not only my husband, but myself, my marriage, and seemingly, my future. I said to God, “If I ever marry again, I only want to marry if its Your will.” Immediately the still, small voice of God spoke within my spirit, and said, “Who says that it wasn’t My will?” That surprised me and pulled me up short. Make what you will of that.

Any comments?

I wish you well on your spiritual journey.

Love to all, Norma

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