A year ago, after a series of traumatic events and some terrifying and bold decisions I made, I was facing perhaps the biggest test of faith I had ever faced. Exactly a year ago, I experienced some technicolor panic, two days away from being utterly homeless–before breakthrough came and my circumstances dramatically turned around.
The previous two years were quite a tumultuous blur….I was going through a divorce after 33 years of a difficult marriage. I made the decision to leave my city to get away from decades of memories, crushing rejection, and judgmental people so I could get a fresh start in a new place.
Unbelievably generous and loving people took me in as I put all my stuff in storage except what I could fit in a spare bedroom–to heal and sort through the broken pieces of my life, facing the trauma of all my fears as I asked myself, “Will I be able to survive?”
Bravest thing I have ever done, to step out and try, when inside I felt like an utter failure. Only a handful of people knew and understood and stayed with me. Some gave me hell for my decisions, but they didn’t know the whole story. Most of my friends kept their distance because it was awkward and they didn’t know what to say, I think. Their silence hurt, though. I know I put up some protective walls as well.
I felt devastated, having to leave my own beautiful home and yard to learn a new city, find new friends, doctors, and routines, live with new families and their house rules, and not have any of my own personal space other than a bedroom, though extremely thankful to have that much. Mildly put, my ’style’ was cramped. It hurt to breathe sometimes.
I moved between a couple of homes, with my two doggies, working as best I could and saving everything I earned, which wasn’t much, because I was barely functioning. My new ‘families’ let me process my pain with them and they prayed and loved me back to life in too many ways to count. To enjoy their blessed roofs over my head was a miracle—what a sacrifice for them…to do…for Me.