My first instinct was to tear him apart, limb-by-limb, for having made a fool of me in front of my friends. (who all had expressed that this union could never work for various reasons I was acutely aware of in the beginning) Instead, I made him promise to get his life in order when he got back to the UK and then drove him to the airport while contemplating my upcoming 30th birthday. When I walked away from his departure gate, I did not look back.

That summer I had an affair with a music theory professor. I prefer to call him by that title rather than “my next door neighbor,” which is exactly what he was. He was an athletic, sensitive type who dove into our relationship sure it would be his last. He swore I was the One and I let myself imagine us attending University Christmas parties while securing our long summer vacations in Eastern Europe.

Then 9/11 happened, I went to Romania, and Mr. Sensitive cheated on me and broke up with me on the way home from that very same aforementioned airport.

My anger was intense. I had been fooled and I couldn’t believe it. I called him a liar to his face, holding little back and vowed never to let my guard down again.

A month or so later, I began seeing a carefree friend of mine who was a DJ at an FM Rock station in Birmingham Alabama. We talked about our concern for humanity and our quirky, granola- rock star children we’d have fun raising while we traveled the world. Needless to say, he was wonderful and the logistics of our relationship were completely unrealistic. I broke up with him to prevent us both from having a nervous breakdown or turning to alcoholism, or worse, having to spend one more night in the same house with his mother, which is where he still lives.

Then, upon returning to Nashville last spring, I did something I swore I’d never do. I began dating a former boyfriend. Eight years ago we dated briefly and broke up, only to have him tell me that he was sure I am the woman he is supposed to marry and that one day I‚d realize it. I had secretly doubted my decision off and on all these years, but I am not usually one to go back on my rejections. The reunion came as quite a surprise to both of us. I saw him as I never had before -clearly. And I loved him with a new kind of love for me: Love and hate mixed together to form an attraction and a compassion I’ve felt for no other. We would name our children Wyatt and Phoenix, live just outside Music City in a sturdy house with generous land. He would be the famous drummer, motorcycle racer and I would be the best-selling writer wife who spent as much time in Eastern Europe as he spent touring. This dream seemed not only fair; it actually made sense to me -and that was new too.

But as time had opened my heart, it was closing his. The love that took eight years for me to uncover and grow in me; it took exactly three minutes for him to throw away. I watched the digital clock on his jeep as he broke up with me, again disbelieving that I could’ve been so stupid.
As I walked the path up to my apartment after he finished talking, something inside me quit working, like I had lost a lung or a heart valve closed up.

I have twice been divorced and anyone who tells you that divorce doesn’t mean a thing in dating is lying. To a person who has been through such torture, it makes all the difference in the world in how we choose people to date, why we stop dating most people, and why we stay with others even when the relationship does not match our childhood fantasy. A divorced person, if they are lucky and get some therapy, has come out of one side of hell and been given a reward for their survival. That reward is called reality. What this bit of insight does for me is make me very sure of my decisions, not so willing to give up when faced with blatant opposition to my goals.

But they say even Jesus had his moment of breaking. “My God, My God, why hast thou forsaken me?” No one ever gives good reason why the Son of God would show such despair - and publicly. But I can think of a few.

Maybe that’s exactly how he felt. Maybe something inside Him just snapped. It might be the only proof that He was human.

My friend Susan says that we should listen to what the universe is trying to tell us. If the universe does not allow us to run a successful business, for example, we should not run that business. If that is true, then the universe is telling me a few very unflattering things. Number one, I should stop writing milk memos. I’ve spent four months of serious energy trying to get a computer to set up an office for writing and have been entirely unsuccessful. Number two, I should file for bankruptcy. The main reason for this being that I am bankrupt, not even able to pay for food and rent on my meager hourly salary. And number three, I should give up on finding someone to share my life with that I truly love and settle instead for someone who loves me.

I have finally reached a point in my life when I look to God and demand that He cough up some answers. I am more than tired of pep talks by people who are merely reciting back to me answers they have heard all their lives but have no proof actually work. I’m amazed at those who speak about God’s perfection then tell me He created the very angel who brought sin to man. And even more so, I am floored by the notion that God knows exactly how I feel. God was never a woman.

Love does not lie down and die just because it’s told it’s not wanted. With every fiber in me, I still love the old boyfriend who broke up with me in his Jeep. It’s illogical, embarrassing, and infuriating, but it is reality. At this moment reality is the only thing I’m interested in.

I believe that God does love me. But I am unashamedly pissed at Him for not taking one moment in eight years to speak to me in a way that I can understand. On the tips of many fingers right now is a list of excuses for God. You will say I have not been listening, that I have not been patient, that He is active and present in my life. But you will only be saying these things because you have not been hit so hard that you come to that place where you wonder why Jesus, Himself, felt forsaken.
I want God to speak for Himself. I believe He can. And maybe He has wanted to all along.

Every Word You Said...

This is for your bad excuse
This is me more than bruised
Hold it to the light; what do you see?
You are what you choose to be
Cause I believed in you
I heard every word you said
You want what‚s true
But lies are in your head

Each time you slept through breakfast
I knew what was on your mind
You said you like my company
And I had all that time
If ever I have loved a man,
I‚m sad you were the one
Cause I believed in your desire
And now look at what it‚s done

I believed in you
I saw every word you said
You want what‚s true
But lies are in your head

All the late night guilty pleasure
You had the balls to sulk
While I put to rest my demons
You saw not me, but my ghost
When all else was confusing
Tell me, how clear was my touch?
It was nothing that you‚d known before
And still was not enough

I believed in you
I saw every word you said
You want what‚s true
But lies are in your head

This is for your bad excuse
This is me more than bruised
Hold it to the light; what do you see?
You are what you choose to be
I believed in you
I saw every word you said
You want what‚s true
But lies are in your head
Lies are in your head

Penny René