When you’ve been left, and it drags on for awhile, you move into a place of acceptance in being alone. There is this deep desire to be reconciled, juxtaposed with the strange new feeling of being okay with alone. He’s a different man anyway now and by golly, he’s not looking like my type anymore. What if the needle is stuck and he stays this way, playing this new album and the tunes aren’t the ones I would choose. Maybe he’s thinking the same thing about me.
I often fantasized about just letting him go, it seemed that’s what he wanted anyway. I’d rent a little apartment with a water view, heal and then carry on from a new place of strength. I’d read enough to know that women were and are continually doing this all over the world. I’d be another such woman. Certainly not my dream world, but it was starting to look a whole lot more comfortable than living with an open wound that wasn’t getting an opportunity to heal. You get weary, real weary. The sorrow, the bravery, and everything in between takes it’s toll.
Even when we had started dating again and after he’d moved back home I often went to this fantasy world of living on my own. Still do from time to time. Any kind of restoration is hard work and takes time.
I had a chance to visit Tucson, Arizona recently. I love art so even though I was there for only one full day I made a beeline for the nearest art museum which happened to be at the University of Arizona. Interesting story of how U of A happens to have 26 of the 50 altar pieces that are from the Ciudad Rodrigo cathedral in western Spain painted between 1480 and 1488. I think this link gives the best info on this permanent exhibit if you’re interested.
One of the scenes from the life of Christ had a hole in it. Turns out that during the Peninsular War in 1812, the British commander, Duke of Wellington, led an attack on Ciudad Rodrigo (Napoleon was otherwise occupied with sending forces to Russia) and unbeknownst to him there were these paintings, in disrepair, that had been put into storage in the cloister of the cathedral.
BOOM! Cannons are fired and one cannon shot happened to make a rather large hole in one of the alter pieces. Fast forward . . . paintings are found, change hands until New York collector Mr. Kress obtains them and has them carefully restored with the integrity of and regard for the artists intent and creativity as the highest concern. The cannon hole is deemed too big to repair and becomes part of the collections history. This painting really resonated with me! I’d hit a stage in our story where I was lamenting the fact that this marriage earthquake is part of our family history. It will always be part of our story and I was hating this fact.
I spent a lot of time with this painting. God was giving me some insight, some healing and I needed to stick with it. This was one of my languages and I felt loved by God in this gift of time and art.
There’s going to be more brush strokes on this in the months and years to come. All I need to know for now though is that this painting of ours is going to take time, it’s going to be unique, it’s going to have it’s own beauty, it’s going to help others understand their stories better and the cannon shot is part of it. It’s too big to cover or camoflauge. Actually, it’s part of the integrity of our painting. I accept. Furthermore, in our case, the canvas already had a lot of beauty to work with. I’m thankful to not be starting with a fresh canvas. Fresh canvas? Who am I kidding anyway – there’s no such thing when your heart has already been capaciously painted on.