Goodbye, JCMO!

With as much as I've complained about Jeff City, I've found myself pretty nostalgic the past couple of weeks. I've lived/worked here more than half of my life. I still think I'm meant for a bigger city, but there are a lot of things I'll miss. Yes, they're mostly food-related. So I like food. There are worse things.

- Arris' Pizza and now Arris' Bistro (on my brain because my parents treated me tonight)
- The chocolate chip cookies at Brick House Deli
- Katy Trail
- My parents
- The spiral-cut homemade chips at Lutz's BBQ
- Chim's Thai Kitchen (seriously the best Thai I've ever had)
- All the Cubies in Cubeland
- My three-minute commute to work
- Having a dishwasher at work
- El Jimador and marg nights with Katie Lynn
- Pizza and wine nights and long talks with Johanna
- Chipotle lunches with Rob
- Walks on the greenway
- My apartment: the ridiculously low rent, garage and 40 square-foot walk-in closet especially
- Being able to walk to Barnes & Noble, Old Navy and Pier 1
- My parents. Did I already mention that?
- Having only a "rush minute"
- The sunsets
- The tiny sailboats on Binder Lake
- Schaefer House
- The enthusiasm of Jays sports fans
- 4th of July
- Summit Lake Winery

I think Jeff City will always be the place where I grew the most. It's where I struggled to make friends and eventually evolved into a confident, happy teenager. It's where I rebelled and probably scared the crap out of my parents a few times. It's where I got my first job and my first REAL job. It's where I had my first date and my first kiss. It's where I first fell in love and first felt real heartbreak. It's where I learned to drive. It's where I danced in the Capitol fountains the night before moving away to college. It's where I got married. It's where I first lived alone. It's where I struggled to pull myself out of depression after the divorce. It's where I have felt safe. It's where I have felt at home.

In less than a week, my only possessions that reside in Jeff City will be a drawer full of Babysitters Club books and a few boxes of old schoolwork. And years and years worth of memories.

Goodbye, Jeff City. Thank you for loving me even when I didn't love you back.

Letter to No One

I had to drive to Branson the day before my birthday, alone.

I spent the whole trip replaying other road trips we took. It made me think of the times we laughed until we couldn’t see the road through our tears. But it also made me remember the times we fought and sat in silence for hours. Mostly, it just made me sad.

My heart still speeds up every time I see a red Chevy truck. What if it were you? Would you acknowledge my existence? Would you pretend not to see me? Would you use the opportunity to drive the dagger even deeper?   

I still think of you often. My aunt Glenda still asks about you. People will talk about you sometimes and I never know what to say. One of my World Games athletes still asks about Duke and Izzy every time he writes on my wall, even though I’ve told him several times that I don’t have them anymore. Their picture still sits on the shelf in my cube.

We spent Christmas in Spokane. I was there just over a year ago, but somehow, this time it felt like you were haunting me. You were my own Ghost of Christmas Past.

“No, dear brothers and sisters, I am still not all I should be, but I am focusing all my energies on this one thing:  Forgetting the past and looking forward to what lies ahead.”   Philippians 3:13

“Be kind to each other, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, just as God through Christ has forgiven you.”   Ephesians 4:32

Sometimes we feel that if we can forgive, then we can forget.  Forgiveness is not really about forgetting (which is often impossible), but about surrendering your right to hurt another person back.  Forgiveness allows you to release the bitter desire for retribution and frees you from anger, hurt, and bitterness.  After someone has wronged you, time will either harden your heart, making you bitter and unyielding, or it will soften it, giving you a desire for healing and restoration.  Willingness to forgive is the only way to achieve these. 

Forgiveness is a hard thing to describe. I’ve forgiven you for all of the pain from the marriage and divorce. You say you’ve forgiven me, but it feels like all you’ve done is try your hardest to forget. I want to forgive, but I’m not free of the hurt that followed after the ink dried. I guess I don’t know exactly where I stand. There’s a fine line between forgiveness and letting you take advantage of me. At some point, I have to look out for myself, and I think I’ve reached that point.

I refuse to forget, but I AM looking forward to what lies ahead. I’m moving, all by myself. I think you’d be proud of me. 

I hate it when something happens that reminds me of you, but I can’t tell you about it. Maybe that hurts more than anything.

Recently, I read A Severe Mercy. The author and his wife come to God after being atheists. The wife comes a lot further than the author, who is still distracted by worldly things and more in love with her than with Jesus. She dies. After her death, he realizes that God was using her to speak to him. If she had lived, he never would have fully turned over his life. I know God doesn’t punish us, but I know that He uses situations to teach us powerful lessons. I had to be completely broken to get to where I am now. I still have a hard time believing that this was his plan for me, but He knew this was the path I’d take. He knew this was what it would take to bring me to him. The divorce was my own severe mercy. I hope you’ve found yours.

Note to anyone who’s not No One: I am at peace with my life. I’m not looking for sympathy. I find healing in writing, which is why I started this blog. I’m going to continue to be real on here, and sometimes that means I’m a little sad. I want this to serve as a true account of what it’s like to go through a divorce. I want people to know that the pain is deep, and it lasts long beyond what you could imagine. I want people to find God without having to go through this.