in the middle of Home Goods

Back in June, I had a “free day” in my schedule.  My husband and I dropped off the puppy to daycare, and I drove my husband to work.  I decided to take a different way home to avoid some of the crazy rush hour traffic.  I had a few errands to do, but grocery shopping was on the top of the list.  Oh, and I needed to buy the puppy more dog treats…  I smirk to myself that I keep calling our dog a puppy, but she’s a German Shepherd mix who’s a dense and lean forty some pounds and still growing.  She has the bark of a hundred and twenty Bull Mastiff.  (That’s my girl!)  I decided to do a little indulgence shopping at Home Goods where I’d likely find wholesome treats for my pup, too.

I slowly walked up and down each aisle, thrilled at the options for purchase.  Eye candy for a shopaholic.  So many plates.  So many mugs.  So many unique snacks and treats and home decor items.  I loved everything in the store.  As I walked to the center aisle in the store, my eyes caught those of a teenage girl with her mom, as we we about to cross paths.  I tried not to stare at her.  I felt like I had met her before, and my mind raced with possibilities.  I complemented the girl’s earrings and told her they were beautiful- what girl doesn’t like shiny objects?  The three of us exchanged pleasantries, when I suddenly found the three of us in an in depth conversation on life in the middle of the store.

We were all from Arizona originally and noticed Houston was a hard transition.  We talked churches and found out we attended the same one about fifteen to twenty years ago.  We talked family and friends and life in general, and somehow we got talking about adoption.  She had adopted three children, and she shared some of her story with me.  It was weird to discuss children and adoption.  Joseph and I had been toying with it for years.  And, earlier this summer, I began to resolve that I’d never have kids.  I found myself trying to come to terms about not adopting; it wasn’t for us.  G-d must have different plans, and I needed to make peace with it.

As we spoke though, the woman peered into me and spoke over me.  It panged me that she saw so deep into my soul- or that G-d used her to speak to me.  She pierced me with her words; she told me I was living in fear.  *GASP!*  She was right.  How did she know?!  She urged me to adopt- fill out the papers today!  She spoke such depth over me and claimed I was meant to be a mom.  How did she see me?  I felt so intimately open at that moment and vulnerable.  I tried to cover the moment with a couple quips of humor to lighten the mood, but I knew she was right.  I held back the tears.  I believe G-d used this woman to speak to my heart and speak to my soul.  I needed to stop living in fear, and I needed to step out in faith.  It was freeing.

My mind was whirlwind after meeting her.  I felt like the Lord had just hugged me in the store.  I felt so safe and so loved that He would have someone speak to my heart over the insecurities, doubt, and questions.  He loved me.  He had something better for me.

I couldn’t wait to call Joseph and pour over him the words that my new friend spoke over me.  I was so excited.  It felt like a huge valentine to my heart.  In true fashion, my dear husband listened to me and encouraged me.  In the weeks that have followed, we have decided officially to adopt, have narrowed our choice for agency, child age and country, and have started the process.

I sometimes feel like I met an angel that day in Home Goods.  But, she’s a good friend who was willing to speak truth and life.  She walked with G-d and wanted me to walk with Him in the future He’s planned for us.  I hope you walk with Him, too.  He surely has great things in store for you, too.

Good night and sweet dreams, Laura

slowing down

It’s been so long.  So long for a myriad of reasons…  But, it’s thirty after five on a Saturday morning, and as good of a time as any.  Let me tell you about last night…

We spent the last half of 2014 getting our home in order.  The previous home owners were negligent in numerous ways.  It debate sometimes whether they were idiots in how they kept a home or devious in hiding the problems they did.  Either way, my husband and I have been footing the bill.  Then a neighbor highly recommended her contractor to do the work for us.  He had done a ton of work for her, and she was thrilled.  We were excited that we had someone we could trust, and trust him we did until by a fluke we found out the work he did was not up to code.  Oh, goodness.  He was hostile and horrible to us, and we spent more time and money on things that should have been done right in the first place.  I digress.

Last night, one of our new trusted and reputable contractors was over to check a leak in the house that we couldn’t seem to fix.  My husband and I were rushing around the home trying to appease our sweet little puppy (yes, we bought a puppy… ha), who is not a fan of visitors in the home, when I realized we left our garage door open.  Oh, and the car door, too?  I tried not to grumble at my husband in my head and decided to put one of my new resolutions to “do it now” and started to go outside.  That’s when it happened: I let my left foot trail behind me to slow the impact of a slamming door when my foot got caught and my heel was scraped.  Ironically, it’s happened before but with a whole lot less severity.  I yelped.  I gasped for words.  I muffled my pain in my upper arm.  I was so glad I didn’t swear!  ha  I was thankful my neighbors weren’t home to hear.  And, I was grateful neither my contractor nor husband was around to see what happened.

I paused for a moment, thinking: I am in a lot of pain!  I didn’t cry and the initial shriek was just that- initial.  I decided that it wasn’t bad and that I wouldn’t look at it.  No need, right?  Just a scrape again, I was sure.  And yet I knew I really hurt myself while still needing to get stuff done.  Suddenly, I felt embarrassment creep over me as I found out our contractor was outside during this whole thing.  He asked if he should get my husband.  No, I will be fine, thanks.  He pressed on.  He strained that he could get my husband.  Oh, something was up.  I appeased him and thanked him.

When my husband came out, he didn’t know how bad it was.  Just a cut.  However, we both realized: there was blood everywhere.  He had me sit down on our driveway to examine my heel.  A look of panic swept over him, and I knew it was bad.  That’s when I started to cry out of fear.  He grabbed a bag of bandages and a towel from the laundry room then hesitated.  He wrapped my foot in the towel and said I needed to see a doctor immediately.  Urgent care, I suggested.  No, the hospital, he said.  Not good, I thought.  He was strained in how to move me to the car from the driveway and decided to call an ambulance.  The EMT’s agreed that I needed to go to the hospital.  I was a child and covered my ears every time they discussed details.  I didn’t want to know how bad it was.  Triage was kind to call it a “scratch” for me, as to keep my fears at bay.  “Cool” is how she said she described something really bad…  As she wrapped my foot back up, she burst that it was so cool!  Great.

Hours later, I had heavy pain meds and fourteen stitches.  I have a splint on it to keep me from moving my foot while it heals.  I am using crutches again for the third time in three years.  This is not fun.  Although, (gross details ahead) I guess cutting your heel straight across and down to the tendon isn’t meant to be fun.  No wonder blood was everywhere.  My husband took pictures.  I have been curious but want to wait until this is all over.  Somehow thinking of it as a “scratch” has been keeping me positive.

I am laying in bed this morning though, and I know it is no scratch.  Oh, it hurts.  Throbbing pain.  I fear I opened the stitches in my sleep.  (Highly unlikely though).  And, I wish I pushed for pain medicine.  I feel horrible waking my husband for something to take for the pain, but, as six o’clock approaches, I didn’t know if I could face it.

My mind swirling around my heel and last night.  I was making the puppy’s dinner when I stopped to get her blankets out of the dryer- that’s when I saw the garage was still open.  That’s when my proactive superwoman cape came on.  That’s when it all happened.  I play the whole thing over again in my mind, trying to make sense of it and what got me here.  I need to stop it; nothing good comes from the replaying.

I wonder though how I will make it through two weeks.  Yes, fourteen days with minimal use of my left foot.  The crutches pang me in using them again.  Our house has grown unproportionately in my mind.  How will I make it to July?  I am sullen looking for the bright side of it all, which I thought I found more easily last night.  Thank goodness I already did the grocery shopping in the morning and showered in the morning (instead of my usual at night).  Thankful that I had fairly easy meals planned for the week.  My husband could saute the veggies after I chopped them.  So glad I cleaned and straightened and vacuumed, too, before the whole ordeal.  Hmmm…  Wished I had done the laundry, but I guess it can wait.  My husband won’t mind doing it, too, I’m sure.  Then it hits me: I need to slow down anyhow.

I have felt a longing to get back to blogging and writing for months, but, as I said, something always gets in the way.  Maybe, it’s a temperamental computer or a needy puppy.  It could be graduation or family in town.  Something takes priority, and the blogs and books dance in my mind and begin to revolt, wanting desperately to get out of my head.  Slow down.  Hopefully, the writing will be easier when I cannot leave the bed.  I should review my to do list.  I have been seeking joy and honoring the side of taking time to read but not taking time to write.  I guess I will start working on refocusing on that.

Thank you for still being here.  More to come.  Join me in putting your feet up for a bit *wink* and slowing down to find time for what you love.

Happy Saturday, love, Laura


I like to think I see the hand of G-d in everything.  I like to thank Him for the good parking spot at the store.  I like to thank Him for the sale on brown rice I needed to buy or the cute top I have been wanting.  I like to thank Him for little things throughout the day.  I know some people don’t think G-d is in the small things, but I tend to think I enjoy life a little more when I am seeing blessings all around me.

I have been meaning to tell you about our big blessing: we are staying in Houston!!  One of my last posts, I was in tears over the thought of us being moved for my husband’s job- I wasn’t ready!  I have been praying the the Lord would let us stay in Houston.  We are finally making our house a home and making it ours.  I just wasn’t ready to move.  Plus, however this sounds, I still have a desire to have a baby in the room we have labeled “the baby room.”  It’s a guest room now, and it stores our storage in the closet.  However, we refer to it as “the baby room.”  And, I think it would be a shame to never have a baby in it!

Just weeks ago, though, my husband met with his boss to discuss the future, and, they need my husband still through 2015.  On the horizon, though, they have a new position in mind by 2016.  It’s a position we never had on our radar (or, my husband didn’t), but his boss knew the current guy was retiring and that Joseph would be a perfect fit.  Oh, I am thankful!  We should be settled her another four or five years.  G-d is good.  I feel so grateful.

And, G-d kept us safe overseas.  I sometimes think I am paranoid, but it worked out for us in Paris.  I felt like a guy was following us to mug us.  When I slowed my walk, he slowed his walk.  When I stayed back to “tie my shoe,” he stopped to evaluate the underground map.  I thought it was all coincidental, until I pulled my husband aside in a crowded entrance to the metro to “look at the map.”  The guy slowed his walk, but he looked back at us three times to see where we were.  My husband knew I was right.  There was something up with him.  It pays to be observant.

My heart was so sad to hear of the terrorist attacks in Paris last week.  Our family and close friends were panicked knowing we were in Paris at the time.  However, we were in Venice at the time.  We didn’t even know of the attacks until I checked my e-mail and saw the notes fraught with worry.  We flew back into Paris on the eighth, stayed the night near the airport, and flew out the morning of the ninth.  I knew two things when I e-mailed our reassurances: 1) the Paris airports would be, likely, the safest places to be (and, they were with dozens of armed officers teamed up to walk the terminals) and 2) G-d was protecting us.  I think of so many times when things could have gone so bad.  I think of times that I was naive and innocent and could have gotten hurt.  I think of moments of near misses and almost’s.  Even in the heartache and sadness, I like to remember: it could have been worse to be thankful it wasn’t so bad.

Sure, some may say I’m lucky, but I like to think I am blessed.  It’s good to have a thankful heart.  It opens your eyes to see the world differently.  It opens you to new possibilities and new promises.  It gives you hope and reassurance.  A thankful heart can help give you peace…  So, I am wishing thankful hearts for all of you in 2015.  May you see the blessings all around you.  “May the Lord bless you, and keep you.  The Lord make His face shine upon you, and be gracious to you.  The Lord lift up His countenance on you, and give you peace.”  (Numbers 6: 24- 26)  Amen.

Happy New Year, love, Laura


“You’re a marketer’s worst nightmare,” my husband said to me as we wandered the streets of Venice.

Yes, Venice.  We spent a handful of days in the northern Italian city for our anniversary; it was a quick stop in from our main destination, Paris.

But, that’s what he tells me as I scope out all the possible mask options in the city that’s known for Carnivale.  I want to bring a mask home, but there are too many options.  Too many options, says my Bear, paralyzes me from making a decision.  Hmmm.  I think he might actually be right.  He brags to me about his decisiveness and how he knows what he wants and can choose it quickly.  This conversation happens after seeing the beautiful purses posing in windows throughout the city.  Oh, they are all so beautiful.  He asks me if I want one.  How could a girl not?!  I laugh, though, that those designer purses are hundreds- sometimes, gulp, thousands– and that is too much.  Way too much.  He points out something that I don’t know if I ever quite realized about myself: I like having options.

It’s true.  Have I told you I hyperventilate when we get new cell phones?  I have mini panic attacks committing to a new, shiny two-year plan, and he has to usher me to a corner, so I can catch my breath.  Although, I muse, it’s not so many options, but it’s no option that I truly love.  A journal, for example, is something I wanted to pick up in Paris or Venice.  We passed hundreds.  Seriously, hundreds.  And, it wasn’t until the seventh day of our nine day trip (or eight, because we left on the ninth day), that I found a lovely rose scrolled journal.  I was in love; no more looking needed.  We bought it on the spot, and, thankfully, minutes before the shop closed for the afternoon.

People are amused when they hear I have a fear of commitment.  Beyond phones, it’s true with men.  I dated often dated a couple guys at once and nothing serious because I wanted the whole package.  I wanted someone smart and funny.  Someone witty and well rounded.  Someone humble and handsome.  Someone who complemented my personality while not being intimated by it or tried to change it.  I have only found that in Mr. Bauer.  And, I searched a lot.

I am pondering starting another business this morning.  I have flirted with the idea for years.  I am trying to figure out the dynamics of it and how it will play out with my current roles as wife and small business owner.  I need to look into all the logistics.  I love being creative whether in writing, business, or day to day life.  I like having my options open.  I like the flexibility that I have right now (especially as we wait on kids) in my home based business.  If I am a marketer’s worst nightmare, so be it.  I don’t want to doubt my decisions.  I want to be sure.  I am sure I don’t want that designer bag, and I think I am happier today because of it.

Happy Sunday, Laura

Happy New Year


For years, I have been enamoured with the French language, and I have started to study it more.  Piece by piece.  Or, rather, word by word.  I don’t think I will ever be fluent.  I don’t think I want to be, but I would love to at least carry on a conversation in it!  I have looked into Italian, too, here and there.  That darn “Eat, Pray, Love” book that I can never seem to get even halfway into.  But, her love of Italian always tempts me.  I should learn Italian- it is much easier to build on with the two years of high school Spanish I have.  *smile*

I regret that I have been absent.  The story I have wanted to tell has finally settled.  I love being Mrs. Bauer, but my story is not one of those times.  I think I have sifted through it enough and now need to let my fingers do the typing to tell it.  So, I will be back soon.  Gossip and glory.

Hope you have a happy New Year.  I love January.  I hope you do, too.

Merci, Laura

when one door wants to close

I have been MIA.  Unintentionally.  I guess I have been drained.  Maybe, I have been dreading it.  Likely, it is that my head swims with ideas, thoughts, phrases, and sentences that I don’t know where to start or don’t know how to sort it out.

Today, though, I am packing up our house.  We are moving.  Although, I don’t know when and don’t yet know where, but it is coming.  Six months or twelve months, that is what is likely.  I married knowing we could move a lot.  Yet, I fight with G-d.  I want to put down roots.  I don’t want to sell our house.  I love our house.  I want to keep it in the hopes of moving back and gaining equity while we are away.  Whether we rent it or not, I want to keep it.  I am being foolish, though, and I think the Lord is leading us to sell.  As much as I fight, He knows best.  Right?

I just sorted through the baby room.  Yes, we don’t have kids yet, but we have the “baby” room.  Description purposes, I guess.  We did plan on that being the room we’d settle our children into someday.  I have a graduation Barbie from the 90’s sitting in a box.  I gently unwrap her to put her in a box of our childhood books and toys we hope to reuse for our kid(s).  There’s a mint condition Barbie version of Romeo and Juliet an ex-boyfriend gave me in 1998.  Why do I keep it?  Why do I keep it in the box?  I think a little girl will love it, though, so I unpack it, too.  If we have a little girl, she can play with the beautiful dolls.  If I don’t have daughters, my niece will, hopefully, adore it some day.  They go in the big box.

There’s a box of frames and knick knacks from my childhood room.  Oh, I loved those.  Oh, those are almost twenty years old.  How can that be?!  LOL  I debate on keeping them or getting rid of them.  My husband supports the former, but I can’t think of a time I will use them in the future.  They are reformed to the latter; they go.  I am a big believer in charity and donating things.  My grandfather lived through The Great Depression, so I know hoarding is engrained into me at a deep level.  I fight it though.  There is a home waiting for my knick knacks.  Besides, I am not a fan of dusting.  I ignore it until i hear whispers of “coup.”

As I type this blog, the hall closet stares at me, wide open and unorganized.  Okay, it’s actually organized and sparse compared to the average closet owner, I am sure.  It still mocks and beckons me at the same time.  I am closing a chapter in my life.  I am tearing up when I write that.  I didn’t realize I was such a sentimental type.  I want so much to hold on to this house, but G-d tells me to let it go.  And, I am blessed, I think.  I have months before we pack it all up and go!  I guess I miss the life we wanted to have here.  We wanted this to be the house our kids grew up in.  We wanted to grow in our relationships with neighbors.  We wanted to grow old in this house and expand onto it someday.  Our neighborhood is filled with older couples, and I wanted us to be one of them someday.

There must be something better, though.  There always is.  If this door is closing, then I need to stop trying to yank it open.  Unknowns breed anxiety.  Maybe that is my problem?  I don’t think I am anxious, but I do crave stability.  I didn’t use to be this way, and my husband and I laugh.  Think that’s why we need to move?  I cannot lose my spontaneity to a house.

I sigh as this post comes to an end, and I thank you, dear reader, for not losing hope in reading it.  Ramblings from my deep heart.  A home is so much more than what I cling to right now.  May I find the excitement of something new and nothing holding us back.  Great things come when we “let go, and let G-d.”  He is good, and He will lead the way.  I think I’m ready to finishing sorting, purging, and packing my bags now.

Happy Wednesday.  Love, L


In my effort to be a better wife, I started reading a new book last weekend.  “The Proverbs 31 Woman: A Study Aid, by E.R. Reid.”  I had been eying it for weeks on my bookshelf.  “I’ll read it soon…” I decided and even went as far as to set it aside to read… eventually.  I decided that I needed to submit to the Lord (yield to Him) then my husband.  I need to focus on my responsibility to Him (the Lord), which will aid in my blessings to him (my dear husband).

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I started reading the book and wondered: when was this written?  Oh, 1993.  Well, that wasn’t too long ago, I ponder.  I was in middle school at the time.  Okay.  What, I was in middle school at the time- over twenty years ago!  I fainted, briefly, (just kidding) and got back to reading the book.  I was shocked at how the words the author wrote over twenty years ago still applied to my life today.  Of course, they should!  I realized her words were about the Bible, which is timeless, and can speak into any situation at any time whether twenty years ago or two hundred years ago.  It can speak into our lives and hearts another ten, twenty, or two hundred years from now.  (Although, let’s be honest, two hundred years from now will be my grandchild’s life, easily).

I know the poor Proverbs 31 woman gets a lot of push back sometimes.  She really models a life that seems unattainable, right?  Well, she’s led by the Holy Spirit, which makes her job a little easier.  Maybe not easier but more focused?  We should always be on the lookout for ways we can better ourselves, our lives, and our marriages.  My poor book is littered decorated with underlinings and tabs and notes-

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– I am about halfway through and know there is so much I need to sow into my heart and life.

It just makes me smile thinking that this book can impact my heart despite it being written when my husband was in grade school.  (That’s creepy, right?!  Yep, I married a- slightly- younger man!)

The study aid shows that G-d is good.  His word is timeless.  It can bless you, your marriage, and family today, tomorrow, and years to come.  It allows you to rethink the legacy you are leaving and start a better one to bless those you’ll some day leave behind.

Many blessings, Laura

May you be a spouse of noble character…

“A wife of noble character who can find?  For her worth is far above rubies.” Proverbs 31:10

being picked on

Last Monday (not this past Monday, but the Monday before), my husband and I got into a massive fight.  It started in the morning and grew until late that night and exploded all over our family room.  Yuck.

The next morning, my dear husband was convinced that I need counseling (oh, how I laughed, as I am certainly not the problem in this relationship!) and determined to make an appointment: that day.  I laughed, too, because when we have had ridiculous fights in the past, I have suggested the counseling.  Snotty mental remark: Look who thinks we need a third party’s opinion now!  Anyway, we met with a counselor Tuesday night, with the residual stench and tension of the fight between us.  I was grateful we weren’t so far gone that we couldn’t still laugh together though.

The counselor was good, and we planned on meeting her again soon.  I made an appointment for that week.  One or two days later?  Oh, I certainly wasn’t a fan of our second appointment.  Why is she picking on me?!  Does she think I defy my husband all the time?  That I am a thorn in his side and a leaky faucet every day of the year?!  Ridiculous.  Hands down, I deserve an A almost any day of the week.  I am a great wife.  It’s true, I am- even my husband will vouch!  But, my heart was eventually pierced: I may get “A’s” every day, but I failed the test of our fight that week.  That one fight brought down my entire grade.  That sucks.

It’s not that G-d was mad at me for not being my best, loving self to my spouse.  But, I knew He wanted more from me.  He calls me to respect my husband, and I had done a shoddy job of that this week.  The Lord certainly wasn’t going to discipline me for my unflattering outburst.  Thank goodness.  He loved me in my filth but still wanted me to get cleaned up.

I sat in her office then writing down a multitude of Bible verses and insights.  This was not fun.  And, again, why is she picking on me?!  I felt a bit of defensiveness rise within me.  “Is she going to ream my husband like this, too?  I hope she does!  He certainly could use a lesson in gentleness-”  Oh, yeah, she repeats herself, interrupting my thoughts: focus on yourself.  I felt like she was talking to a two year old.  She says though that if I focus on having a good relationship with the Lord, a good relationship with my husband will follow.  Hmphf.

I get in the car to run a few errands before going home.  I am still a wee bit irritated that she was picking on me.  I don’t handle criticism well- can you tell?  *laugh*  But, as I am driving I realize one of the biggest truths of the day: She’s not picking on me- G-d is!  What?!  I am His beloved.  I am His precious child- daughter of the King.  whining: I am His favorite!  (Something my best friend and I fight over- ha!)  It hit me that even though I may a good wife most of the time that when I behaved the way I did I was certainly a bad wife.  It’s that one bad decision, score, or grade that drops the overall value down.  Sucks.

So how do I fix myself to be a better wife?  I get into the word.  Yep, The Holy Bible.  I need to remember my first responsibility is to G-d then to my husband.  I submitting (or yielding) to the Lord though I fulfill His plan for my life.  Right now, I need to be a good wife.  Do I still disagree with my husband’s decision?  Yes, I still disagree with my husband’s decision.  And, sure, I still think he was wrong, but I need to bite my tongue and pray that G-d will take care of it.

So I am trying to be a better Mrs. Bauer.  One day at a time.  One prayer at a time.  May I push through my ignorance to be a better wife every day no matter any decision.

Happy Wednesday, L

the love of my life

I read an article today about an actress who got married recently.  She described her groom as “the love of her life.”  And, I admit I was ready to roll my eyes.  Although, I remember: I said the same thing about my groom five years ago.

I still think Mr. Bauer is the love of my life.  However, it hasn’t been as perfect and lovely as I thought.  I mean, the first big fight we had was days after our engagement.  I thought my fairy tale was over.  That’s not a really fairy tale though- despite all our trips to Disney World!

My husband has become the love of my life because his personality fits mine.  He took care of me when I had knee surgery and again when I broke my foot.  He made a full Thanksgiving dinner the first weekend, too!  Great guy.  He works hard to provide for us, and, likely, would not deny me anything I ask.  That’s not him giving in, or me being spoiled.  However, it is him willing to sacrifice for me.  That is the love of my life.  I think back on past relationships that I had wanted to be “the one” or thought they were grand loves, and, for a time, they were.  But, I was a believer that “the one” who was meant to be would want to be with me an not let anything get in the way of that.  Joseph made us happen.  He knew what he wanted: me, as his wife.

We may get swept away in the moment of new love and the freshness of new happiness.  I pray that love takes you by surprise and deepens.  I pray your spouse complements you and blesses your life.  I pray you return the favor, too.

Good night, L

twelve years

I had to get on Facebook today.  I have been MIA on it as of late, which has been a nice break actually.  A friend’s post talked of them celebrating twelve years of marriage this weekend.  Wow.  Twelve years.  That seems so crazy long to me.  I mean, for someone I know.  For someone whose wedding I attended a lifetime ago.  Really, a lifetime ago for me.  I was in my early twenties then- such a different person than I am now.  I different view on life.  A different weight!  ha  And, a different husband.  It dawns on me as I contemplate their status: I got married twelve years ago, too.

I remember meeting my first husband thirteen years ago.  Or, that was when we became a couple and started dating.  I actually knew him growing up.  Not well, but I knew him and his family.  We attended and grew up in the same church.  The weekend before I met him in my early twenties though, I was so sick of dating.  I just wanted to be married.  I wanted to find that magical “one.”  That week, I met the one I thought was the one.  He was tall, cute, and Christian- what more did I need?  Well, in hindsight, I needed myself. 

I hate to be skeptical of those marrying in their early twenties, but I just scream inside: you change SOOO much!  It is true: the twenty year old you is typically vastly different than the twenty-five year old you.  You start to find yourself and gain your footing.  You discover what makes you tick and what you are looking for.  You need a very strong foundation if you marry young, and I didn’t have that.

Sure, that first marriage shaped me.  I married a man I didn’t respect.  I married a man who disappoints me.  He disappoints me in ways I cannot express except it’s not just him specifically but that I am disappointed that I ever thought I loved him.  I am disappointed that when my dad asked me if my would be groom was worth all the family drama that came with him I, honestly, didn’t know.  That is a bad sign.  I mean, my husband now came with buku family drama but that never made me doubt my love for him and desire to marry him.  Ironically, my new in-laws have on times made me nostalgic for my old in-laws! 

So much has happened in the twelve years I first said I do.  There are rare moments that my mind wanders down the what if trail, but it’s not pretty.  I can still vividly remember sitting in my family room feeling so completely, utterly, totally alone.  I compared my marriage to a prison and dreamed of a way out.  Sure, the way out came, but there was a lot of brokenness all around.  I don’t advocate divorce.  People say “no regrets,” but I do regret my first marriage.  I regret my divorce, too.  I value what I have learned and what it’s made me.  I can appreciate the husband and life I have now because I am FREE from that hell. 

I likely would have kids now if I stayed on that path.  But, they would have been with the wrong man.  I would likely still be on the same anxiety and depression meds I had been on before.  I would have seen my counselor more often then the mailman.  I might have still be an adulteress- begging to find excitement in a life I avoided living.  I may not have been “saved.”  It was during our separation that I dated someone who reminded me of my first true love, the Lord, and he helped guide me back to Him. 

I am happy the couple is celebrating their anniversary.  Twelve happy years.  Two beautiful boys.  One great house.  One booming business.  Dozens, no, hundreds of laughs.  There are so many paths we can take in a matter of twelve years.  I am thankful theirs led to where they are today.  And, I am thankful for that path that led me to my present.  Rocky roads, and all.

Sweet dreams, L