When hubby #2 and I split up, I held out for like…three years. Hoping it was just a midlife crisis he was going through. Ahhh, denial….it’s not just a river in Egypt. I was heavily invested in NOT losing that relationship which only further convinced him I was NOT who he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. And, it’s all good. It certainly wasn’t at the time, but it is now. He freed up my future.
Once I finally “got it”…he was not coming back…I started dating. Actually, what I was doing was LOOKING. High and low…all over that town. It was a small town. Everyone…and I do mean every single person…either knew my husband or knew OF him. Let’s just say, dating in a small town when your ex-husband is a prominent physician is no easy task. Just my last name scared most of them away. I turned to online dating. And found a cowboy.
Oh, he wasn’t a cowboy in the conventional definition. He was a renegade…a man’s man…a former Marine who had suffered more than his share of battles in this life. He lived nearly three hours away. Our kids were the same age yet he was eleven years my senior. He was crusty and wild yet wise with a huge heart. I believe there are no accidents in this life and we are put on paths that intersect with people we are destined to meet. These people serve several purposes. They offer learning moments. They can heal places that have been hurt by others. Sometimes they soothe scars…sometimes they make them. Sometimes, if we are truly blessed, we get to have a great, deep love with one of them. And, sometimes…lightning strikes twice.
The cowboy and I came together at a time of crisis for both of us. Ours was not a relationship that was meant to be happily ever after. Ours was meant to rip some horribly festering wound open, clean it out, and send each other on our way. Although breakups don’t usually feel good at the time, it was necessary and we parted honorably…with genuine caring for one another. This is why we have been able to remain friends for all this time.
We talk once or twice a year. And when we do, it is usually because he has a stone deep down that needs to see the light of day. Or, I do. We bring it out. We look at it. We discuss its qualities. Why is it there? Where did it come from? Is it necessary to keep hanging onto that stone, or can it be tossed aside? We dance around it and sing and celebrate the pains of life that finally heal.
We admire each other’s scars. They are the wounds of mighty warriors in the battles of life. War. Love. Loss. I tell him I admire his brave heart. He tells me he admires the light of God that shines through my heart. We are quiet a moment, then the dance is done till the next time there is a stone that needs extracting. He is an uncommon man, a cowboy, a rock hound, a wiry desert-dwelling renaissance man who tied a lasso around my heart long, long ago and dragged it into the light of day to be resuscitated after a marriage broke me.
It is good to be reminded from time to time where you once lived in this life. I don’t mean physically, necessarily. I mean emotionally, existentially, philosophically…even politically. It is good to be reminded we are exactly where we are supposed to be in this exact moment in time. We wished each other well with promises to keep one another in prayer…he on a sojourn in the desert southwest…I on a journey of love and light with a man who sings my song. ❤️
“And do not forget to do good and to share with others, for with such sacrifices God is pleased.”
Hebrews 13:16 NIV