Prayer Is Like a Box of Chocolates

“…because I prayed about it.” These painful words came from a fairly well-known Christian author and speaker. After hearing that, I almost walked out of the big auditorium filled with other women. She started to talk about her fantastic husband and how she’d prayed for him and that’s how he became fantastic. The pain in my core dug in deeper as I thought about what I was going to go home to that night.

As if I haven’t prayed for him. Years and years I have prayed for him to change! So…her prayers got answered because she’s either loved by God more or there’s a different set of rules for me.

Her next comments struck another nerve. “People ask me all the time how I stay so thin,” she began. She’s not really going to say this. “And I tell them it’s because I pray about it!”

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How I Learned to Forgive Myself

Coulda Shoulda Woulda. If only. Wish I could go back.
Forgive myself…?
It sounds so easy. But it’s not. Especially if your mistake stares you in the face every day.

It’s the guy who goes home to an empty apartment every night because his drinking split the family up. Oh sure, she had the affair, but it was his drinking that drove her there. And he knows it. The single mom who wakes up to her four kids every morning. Each one from a different Mr. Mistake. Every time she writes on a form each different last name than hers, she cringes. Or like me, I come home from working all week only to pack up two kids who really don’t want to go to their dad’s for the weekend. And I really don’t want them to. They’re arguing with each other and letting me know very clearly that they don’t want to go. And there’s nothing I can do to protect them. I should’ve put stronger boundaries down early on with my husband. I didn’t love him with honesty. Instead I hid our problems because I was too proud to reach out for help. And it turned into a nightmare divorce. As if there is any other kind.

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