The Sound of Defeat: Who's Laughing Now?

I'm smiling today.

It feels so good to have an authentic, from-deep-down-inside smile on my face. It's like my heart is smiling, and my face can't conceal it.

Two months ago, my husband and I had walked out of a marriage counselor's office. The decision had been made to get a divorce. She advised us that it didn't seem like either one of us really wanted the marriage. And so, she thought we should get the divorce.

We--both exhausted from the fights, confusion and anger--agreed.

I really didn't want to agree. But, I was too tired to fight. The pain of the past had consumed my heart. So, in my mind, it was time to throw in the towel. Why fight a losing battle?

We had never been at a point this low in our marriage. One day, I'll be able to write about it, but right now, it's still too fresh and because I am thinking of hubby, I must hold back.(But, when I do write it, it's going to be so good!)

So, the decision had been made. And on a muggy Saturday afternoon, we walked out of that counselor's office and drove home together. I remember feeling disgusting. I was sweating and crying. The tears and the sweat had mixed together and there I was--a sloppy, filthy mess. The stains of mascara said what I couldn't, between the silent sobs.

It was over.

My shirt was stained. My eyes were swollen. And while I was silently sobbing, he was simply silent. He was as still as a statue. Not crying. Not talking. Not moving. (But, ofcourse, even though I could barely see out of my sunglasses, I refused to let him drive my car.)

That was the sound of defeat--my sobs and his silence. I was so mad. I felt like it was mocking me. Laughing at me. Defeat: "See what you did? You messed everything up. How does it feel? He doesn't want you anymore."

Those were words from my childhood. They had been buried under all of the layers and there were so many layers, that I could no longer quiet the pain. They were coming up. No matter what.

That night, I received an email with a list of divorce lawyers and I knew that this was it.

"Good. Do what my father did to me. Do it! Leave me!" I refused to be a quiet bystander. He was agreeing to leave me--like so many others had. And that meant that he was my enemy.

However.

Hubby wandered into this church one day--hoping to get some information about their day care. We lived within walking distance of this church but had never paid much attention. I'd like to say that hubby had an over-the-top spiritual experience. But, he did not.

Instead, someone simply reached out a hand--an outstretcheed hand reaching out to a weary hand. It was the pastor--a young guy, about my hubby's age. They seemed to really connect, and he was reaching out.

Hubby went to church for the next month. Meanwhile, I was lashing out. We were basically destroying each other and I am really good at being really angry. I stood my ground. I refused to go to that church. "Oh, please, they are all going to judge me" I screamed at him one day. "Have fun at your little church!"

But one day, God spoke to me. (Oh, man, I wish I had time to write all of this.) He used someone who I was interviewing for the book I am writing and He spoke so clearly. At that point, I began to break.

I realized that I was so angry and bitter and hurt that I had walked away from God a long time ago--sometime after my sister died and sometime before we moved back to Florida from South Carolina.

I was completely numb. And I preferred it that way.

But, God was speaking to me. And so I decided that if He could speak to this sloppy mess of a woman, that I could go to church just once. I snuck into church one Sunday morning in April, and I sat in the very last row.

With my head down, I simply said to God: "Okay, you know what I need and if this pastor talks about healing, I'll stay. Because, God, I hurt too much to go on like this."

I think that the fifth word that came out of his mouth was "healing." And at that very moment, I knew that I would never turn back. I felt like I was a little girl lost in a shopping mall. When she finally sees daddy, she doesn't stroll over to him. She runs.

And that is what I did. I ran to Him like never before and it was like, He knew what I needed. He knew how to respond. And, through a series of people and prayers, He was embracing me.

So today, there is this smile on my face. The tears that I have cried during the last month have been tears of utter disbelief at how amazing God is.

Today, it feels good to have an authentic smile on my face. And it feels so good to hear the sound of laughter replacing the sound of defeat.

So, to defeat, I say: Who's laughing now?