A peek behind our curtain, shared with permission:
One day not so long ago we were almost divorced, each wondering what was going to become of us.
I later learned my husband considered an online dating profile, and he joked that marketing his breakfast skills would’ve been a good way to go. We have teasingly referred to him as BreakfastGuy77 ever since.
Thankfully that online dating profile never became a reality. We got our heads out of our asses, worked through our Mount Everest of $%@#, and now BreakfastGuy77 pours my coffee every morning and serves me beautiful food on a pink plate while I work.
I’m humbled every time.
The world wants you to believe that people won’t change. That their sins are too great, their faults too many, their problems too big, that it’s foolish to trust or keep them any longer.
Sometimes, sadly, this is true.
But in many cases, specifically the case concerning my own tragically flawed self, people are just one miracle away from a totally different life.
I believe in miracles. I’ve watched them unfold in my own life. They don’t look like Hollywood magic. They look like train wrecks. Humiliation. Brokenness. Hard work and hard time and hard hearts showing up to therapy. Money spent. Doors slammed. Tears shed.
Because miracles don’t usually just drop out of the sky. You have to suit up for a risky quest to unearth them.
I don’t regret a single bit of the hard work. I don’t regret a single moment of willingness to trust and try. (And OH MY GAW trust-and-try is maybe the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, and I’ve buried a child.)
Life is hard. Love is hard. Marriage is hard. Parenting is hard. Faith is hard. Growing as a person is hard.
But in the middle of all that hard work and worry are some pretty spectacular moments where you realize that all that hard work and worry were worth your time. You will know it was worth it to show up. That it was worthwhile to allow yourself to be shaped by struggle and changed for the better.
You see a breakfast sandwich. I see a miracle. I hope I will always allow myself to feel humbled by this simple offering. The mess we slogged through to get here makes it taste all the more sweet.