Just Thank God and Move On
[Guest Post by Brett Wilson – I met her through our mutual friend Sarah Martin. She is a fun, single lady who writes fairy tales of faith, single-hood, and coffee. If you have recently gone through a breakup, I hope her story will encourage you to thank God and move on.]
“Hey, baby! Wanna be our guest?”
I snapped my head to see where the voices were calling from. I was at a stoplight on a citrus-sunny road somewhere between Virginia Beach and North Carolina. There, simultaneously stopped on my left was a group of baseball-capped men in a dirty white pickup truck.
“Really, Lord?” I thought as I tried to keep my eyes on the dusty, beige road ahead.
This is all that my love life has come to?
The light turned green, and the pick up truck bounced along, leaving behind a cloud of smog. They had every right to taunt, I suppose. I was, after all, cranking my Beauty and the Beast soundtrack pretty loudly.
But, I didn’t care. I had made up my mind: No Adele. Not today. I was already feeling sorry enough for myself without hearing cadences about her old beau finding a girl and being married now.
The man I had been dating the last few months, the one who was responsible for my ditching work and hitting the road to meet my family where they were spending their spring break, had broken up with me just the night before.
I was heartbroken. And I needed a hug from my Mom.
He had held all of the qualities on my potential-soul mate checklist:
+ He loved God.
+ He was smart, funny, handsome, played the guitar.
+ And he had a beard.
The only problem was, he was about to finish his graduate work and move back home, halfway across the country.
I desperately still wanted to make things work.
And I really thought I loved him enough to pack up my life’s boxes in a moving van. Believe me, I tried. But, he would have nothing of it.
“We need to talk,” he said with his solemnly darkened face.
“Sure,” I said meekly, already feeling heat and tears beginning to swell in my eyes. “But, first can I get you some water?” It was my last chance, Hail-Mary-Pass at showing him what a good, selfless wife I would have been to him.
See, now aren’t you sorry? I thought. Here you are, breaking up with me and stuff, and I bring you a glass of water.
That basically makes me the Proverbs 31 woman.
He wasn’t as righteously moved by my offer of water as I was, apparently. Because, after three exhausting hours of him explaining why he couldn’t ask me to follow him–that he didn’t quite love me, he left.
I explained all of this as calmly as I could to my mom the next day when I arrived at the beach cottage. She very patiently waited for me to finish sniffling through my hysteric “It isn’t fair!” and “No one is every going to want to marry me!” claims before she spoke.
She told me he wasn’t the one for me. God had closed a door. Life with this man wasn’t a door that I was meant to walk through.
“Sometimes, you just have to thank God and move on,” said Mom.
She was absolutely right. I have since relinquished up all adolescent stubbornness that wants to claim otherwise.
I don’t know where I would be right now if I had packed up my things and happily followed my bearded boyfriend across several state lines. But, I’m certainly glad I stayed put.
When I think about the sort of woman I want to be for my husband–the real, genuine, Proverbs 31 woman–I believe I learned that day what it means to “laugh at the days to come” (Proverbs 31:25).
My mom’s simple words, and prayers, helped me realize that no disappointment or heartbreak could break me from God’s plan.
And maybe one day, I’ll be able to listen to Adele again.
Maybe I will find someone like him.
Better yet, maybe he’ll find me.
But for now, I’m cranking up the show tunes. I’m letting the bass line rattle my rearview mirror for a spell. I’m learning to be joyful in my current struggles, and laughing at the struggles that are sure to come.
I’m thanking God for my heart break, and I’m moving on.
Brett Wilson is a Christ-loving, single, curly-haired, left-handed coffee-addict. She is a public relations writer in Virginia Beach, Virginia. She lives with her best friend and a Boston Terrier named Regis. Connect with on her blog.