I'd been living with my parents for several weeks. The distance was healing. With each passing day, I felt myself becoming a little more grounded, a little more still. As I reconnected with myself and my Savior, lessons that I'd already learned returned to my mind. Years earlier, when J and I were newly married, we'd experienced a crisis that had nearly resulted in divorce. As I ran on rolling, country roads, I accepted once again the things I'd come to accept then:
- I could not rely on J or our marriage to make me feel valued, fulfilled, beautiful and whole. I was all of those things regardless of J or his actions.
- J was not responsible for my happiness and I was not responsible for his. I accepted that I only had control over my own choices and attitudes, not my husband's.
- I accepted that J was not the sum of his mistakes.
- I accepted that forgiveness was a gift. I could give it freely and without condition.
- I accepted that I was a mortal, flawed woman married to a mortal, flawed man and the only way to navigate the many things that felt 'true' was to rely on Heavenly Father.
- I accepted that God's version of things working out and my version of things working out would not always be the same-- but that God's version was always better, even if it was more painful.
One night, I woke to an alert on my phone. It was an email from J, and it wasn't good. I stayed awake to think, write and pray. As dawn broke, I laced up my running shoes, stepped out the door, and pleaded aloud.
For weeks, every time I asked for guidance, the word whispered to my soul was, "patience." But this time, I felt with certainty that I had to give J a choice. Move out, or the children and I would stay in Grangeville.
That was the moment that I finally accepted that even if it was true that I'd been right to marry J; even if it was true that I'd been told to stay; even if it was true that we were meant to bring these children into the world; even if it was true that I could be happy and at peace regardless of J's actions; even if it was true that I loved him; even if I did everything 'right', J and I might still get divorced. I accepted that J had his agency and that I may someday receive the whisper, "enough". I had to accept that it would not be a failure.
God's version of things working out and my version of things working out would not always be the same. But I accepted that God's version was always better.