Reason #132

As I listened to the radio, a song by Josh Wilson began to play and my mind went back to December. As I have walked this road, I love being able to look back and see how God just had His hands completely wrapped around me the entire time. I love being able to look back and see how closely He held me, how immediately He met every need.

On December 19, I made my final visit to the counselor’s office. For a few months, I had been visiting with this dear man who had given me some good thoughts to consider. A man who had helped me process what was going on. A man, originally intended for couple’s counseling, who had been giving me couple’s counseling as best as possible, and I realize how difficult it must be to counsel a couple when you only have half of the equation. He did a good job. So, that night, it was the final verdict. I showed up at the counselor’s office fully expecting to be there by myself once again. But, this time, I wasn’t. We were down to the wire. The “60 day waiting period” was about to be up and a decision was going to have to be made. We sat on a couch for about five minutes, and it was as if ripping off a band-aid, quick and painful. And so, I sat there by myself for the next 45 minutes and wiped the tears from my eyes as the counselor tried his best to comfort me. And I remember that moment. I remember what I wore. A black dress, how fitting. Because this was basically a death and the time had come to bury.

My mom and I had already made plans to go to Josh Wilson’s Christmas concert that same night, and I was in no mood to go to a concert, much less a Christmas one. The last thing I wanted to do was sit in a room full of happy people. This was supposed to be a time of joy. A season of love and family. It just had to be Christmas, didn’t it? So I walked out to my car in my black dress. It wasn’t late, but the sun had already disappeared from the sky. I drove the few minutes to the church parking lot, got out of the car and told her the outcome was what we had expected. And so, with her arm wrapped around me, we headed inside.

We sat in the far corner, and it was dark inside. I was so grateful for the darkness and grateful to be in the corner of the sanctuary. And the tears fell, unnoticed by the crowd, but not unnoticed by all who were present. I didn’t sing along to the songs like I normally would. The darkness of the sanctuary matched the darkness I felt inside. But I remember asking God to show up that night. I remember driving over there telling Him how much I needed to feel Him, but I just wasn’t sure that singing Christmas songs was going to do much for my heavy spirit.

Joy to world… peace on earth…fa la la la la… and then a video came on the screen. A young man sat at a piano with his head hanging low, and I could see the anguish on his face. This seemed to be a strange video to be showing in the middle of a Christmas concert. This wasn’t about Jesus being born. No Mary, no Joseph, no manger scene. Barefoot, he walked through his house and he began to tell a story. A story, which was identical to my story. This man was telling my story… in the middle of a Christmas concert. A story of divorce. A story of pain. And I identified with every single word he was saying. I knew how he felt. As the story unfolded, he began to move past the pain and talk about hope. A man who still didn’t quite understand why he had to walk the road he had been down, but a man who was choosing to trust in the Lord regardless. A man who had discovered the Lord in such a powerful way amidst the despair he was facing. And he was so real about. So vulnerable and open. And that was the first night I began to have hope that I would get through this. Because, for the first time, I caught a glimpse of someone who was just like me, had experienced what I had gone through, and was making it out alive. Changed, but changed for the better. Someone who ran to God during his time of tragedy rather than running from God. And from the heartache, a song of hope and praise with birthed. And so Josh Wilson stood on stage and as he sang the song, “Fall Apart,” I quietly wept.

And I realized, in that moment, that God was once again answering my prayers. Reminding me that I was not alone. Reminding me that He knew what I needed and was going to keep meeting those needs every time one surfaced. All of this was happening in the middle of a Christmas concert. Completely unexpected! And as people were smiling and celebrating the birth of a Savior lying in a manger, I was weeping at the feet of the one who came to give me hope. And for the first time this past Christmas, I finally got it. Maybe I never really understood this because I had never truly felt hopeless before. So He met me in that sanctuary and He filled me with hope. He showed me the true meaning of Christmas. A Savior who willingly entered into a dark world to give hope to girls who sit in dark corners, letting them know that when they fall apart, He’s there ready to put them back together again.

Why in the world did I think I could

Only get to know you when my life was good

When everything just falls in place

The easiest thing is to give you praise

Now it all seems upside down

My whole world is caving in

But I feel you know more than I did then

How can I come to the end of me and somehow still have all I need

God, I want to know you more

Maybe this is where it starts

I find you when I fall apart

#132 – Because He puts me together when I fall apart.

“Why, my soul, are you downcast? Why so disturbed within me? Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise him, my Savior and my God.” – Psalm 42:11