It’s confusing in Wisconsin when spring shows up on the calendar, but snow continues to fly through the air. We feel like we are in the wrong place at the right time. The earth’s angle is tilted so that we are being exposed to more sunlight, but many of our days still feel cold, and the clouds often interfere with that extra light we have been waiting for all winter. Yet, we know the sun is still there. We know that spring is indeed arrived and our activities reflect what the calendar tells us, more so than how the weather feels. I put my snow shovel away, and take out my garden shovel. My fleece mittens are put in the closet, and my rubber coated work gloves come out. I stand on the step outside my patio door, shivering, but confident that the sun’s warmth will soon overcome the chilly air.
This particular spring marks the one year anniversary of my divorce. It feels strange to have stopped counting the marriage years and started over again at the beginning of the number line. I have been compelled to look back at my blog entry concerning my marriage from eight years ago, titled “I WILL…” In it I had written, “In days of old, God's people built altars to acknowledge and to remember the places where he had performed a miracle, or had saved them, or had revealed himself to them in a significant moment.” My entry described how I perceived the altar of my marriage vows. At that place and time, my marriage was challenging, but I was intent to persevere… to continue to move forward in love… to believe my husband shared my intent… to trust God would save us from the imperfections of ourselves.
Despite that intention, our vows crumbled and divorce broke the altar of our marriage. With a broken marriage came a broken life. With a broken marriage came a broken confidence in the church that I believed would help us, but had instead harmed us. With a broken marriage came a broken desire to interact with the world outside of my hurting children, even with people whom I knew loved me and supported me. With a broken marriage came a broken ability to consider the future with any kind of vision or anticipation. With a broken marriage came a broken heart.
My broken heart was full of confusion and uncertainty. It felt like my life was turned completely upside down. The marriage altar was destroyed, and instead of feeling that the presence of God was with me, I was feeling lost and traumatized. Despite the feeling of disconnection in my heart, the knowledge in my head caused me to turn to the one concrete place I knew to be whole, to hold truth, to be unchanged. I turned to read the words of God in the Bible. There, in the very beginning, in Genesis, I found other people who were navigating traumatic experiences, who were confused and uncertain, and who in the midst of their upside down circumstances knew to look for God.
In Genesis chapter 8, after a forty day storm that destroys the face of the earth and most of humanity, and after countless days of just floating aimlessly on the open water, Noah’s ark lands him in an unfamiliar place. His home has been destroyed, and his future plans are completely unknown. Noah decides the place where he belongs at that moment is at an altar he builds before doing anything else, worshipping and waiting on God.
In Genesis chapter 12, Abraham is asked to leave the homeland he has lived his whole life. He travels to one foreign place after another, sometimes fearing for his life. However, in each place God leads him to, Abraham builds an altar, to thank God for his presence, and for the future fulfillment of his promises.
I can emotionally relate to the uprooted circumstances of Noah and Abraham. After one year, divorce still feels like a strange place to me. I continue to often surround myself with the boundaries of solitude and silence. I sit in my new church on occasion, listening to familiar words filtered through a shadow of grief and distrust. My children look to me to lead the way into the future, as their progress in healing ebbs and flows. The only surety I know is that God is here with me. My heart may be broken, but I believe God is here. Even if this broken heart sometimes feels like the wrong place for me to wait, I try and remember the springtime. I’m starting to see that altar of my life has become my broken heart. Even though it sometimes feels like a place I don’t want to be, it is the place where I know that God’s light will awaken hope and healing, in time. It is the right place to approach God, to talk to him, to listen for him, to worship him. As I wait expectantly at the altar of my heart, I am beginning to see glimpses of what’s ahead. Even if I don’t always feel like God is here, I believe he is here. I remember the springtime. I believe that eventually, I will feel his warmth healing my heart. I believe that his light will show me where I am going, and that his promises for me will be fulfilled. Until then, I will wait here.
“Oh, that we might know the Lord! Let us press on to know him. He will respond to us as surely as the arrival of dawn or the coming of rains in early spring.”
Hosea 6:3 NLT
“The grass withers and the flowers fade beneath the breath of the Lord. And so it is with people. The grass withers and the flowers fade, but the word of our God stands forever.”
Isaiah 40:7-8 NLT
“But those who wait on the Lord shall renew their strength; They shall mount up with wings like eagles, They shall run and not be weary, They shall walk and not faint.”
Isaiah 40:31 NKJV
“Why am I discouraged? Why is my heart so sad? I will put my hope in God! I will praise him again— my Savior and my God!”
Psalms 42:11 NLT
“But each day the Lord pours his unfailing love upon me, and through each night I sing his songs, praying to God who gives me life.”
Psalms 42:8 NLT
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