burning bridges... continued

You may wonder why, if I couldn't bear a phone conversation with my ex-husband, how I thought I could handle a face-to-face? Another part of my baggage I think... I don't like the telephone. I was not allowed to use the phone much as a kid, so I don't enjoy using it as an adult. Unless I'm conducting business, I get antsy after two minutes. I have to go to the bathroom or I will say I have to go to the bathroom. Either way, I need to hang up.

To say that my ex-husband has been a huge piece of the puzzle in my discernment to the religious life is an understatement. He was the wild card in nearly every hand I've been dealt over the past four years... coming to a final decision without taking him into account was impossible, is impossible. For awhile I tested the idea that this life was some kind of training ground... a place God had called me to learn whatever it was I needed to know to successfully live with him again.

I'd be in the kitchen, cooking something, and I'd find myself imagining cooking the same thing in his kitchen for him. It didn't occur to me that in this fantasy of being married to him again, he was never around. When that aha finally hit, I realized I couldn't go there. The idea of doing things for him was very strong, the idea of being with him was unimaginable. Face it, I'm denser than Iridium when it comes to relationships

The dream I posted several weeks ago (if you wish, you can read it here) was thoughtfully interpreted by a number of friends, but the one that rang most true was offered by a girlfriend of nearly two decades. She knew me when I was married, has known and supported me through divorce, boyfriends, the move to New York, job changes, more boyfriends... and this choice to become a sister. I was her boss once and she was mine. She knows me inside out like no other friend.

Her take on the dream went something like this: you're seeking a place where your generosity, talent and gifts will be accepted and appreciated. In the dream, you'd already done all the cleaning and cooking and organizing for the party but the soup was still frozen. (It was lentil soup, not important enough to be noticed.) The bowl was too small—because you have so much to offer, you need more than one person to receive; you need God Himself. Even though he tried, your ex-husband could not find a way to accept these gifts, and when you opened the big container, it was full of the baggage (charred dreams and dirt) from your marriage.

Hello. That was insightful as well as prophetic. I haven't had that much profundity smashing the sides of my brain since I quit talking to angels. (Another story... another post.)

to be continued...