Many would say my life is tragic, and sometimes it feels that way. My parents separated when I was four and were divorced by the time I was five. Then my mom married Terry and my sister Shawna was born. Two days before I turned 18; I got married, my mom and Terry split up, and my 16-year-old brother left home.
Two children were born to the marriage of my youth and after 17 years of dealing with a narcissistic man, I divorced him and walked away. The affairs and emotional abuse were too much, and I wasn’t going to be able to be a healthy mother to my children.
I was single for 5 1/2 years, working on myself to be healthy and find a healthy partner in life. I met my second husband just after turning 40. He seemed like a great guy with a beautiful home, no debt and a good relationship with his daughters. And it was all lies, and my part in the relationship was letting him rush me to the altar. Seven years later it ended because you can’t build something on a house of lies with an unwilling partner to make changes.
Shortly there after I met a lovely gentleman who was 16 years older than I am. We were the king and queen of the dance floor and he truly treated me like a lady. However he drank too much, so I ended up walking away from the relationship.
Months after that I met Rob Sharp, the love of my life. This was just before I turned 50. Six short years later, two days after by 56th birthday, he entered Hospice. He passed away 4 days later on April 28. A couple of weeks later, I learned that the king of my dance floor died eight short days later. It’s very obvious that at this time I am supposed to be single.
My dad passed away when I was 35, and my mom a short 11 years later when I was 46. There are other deaths that impacted my life, like my mom’s grandfather dying on Christmas Day when I was 11 or so, and her grandmother passing away near my 17th birthday. I lost all three of the grandparents I knew, before I was 44.
Tragic, it could be thought so. I’m the strongest person most people know…so I’m told. It’s not true! I am not strong, it is my God who is strong. HE whom is my fortress and protector. He is my Potter molding me and shaping me, through life’s hardships, through those refining fires of the kiln we all call life. Pottery only becomes beautiful when it’s been through the fiery furnace of the kiln…. and usually not just one trip through! What is your fiery kiln? How has it molded and shaped you? What beauty do you see from your experience? …. It’s there, it really is. If you don’t see it, ask God to reveal it to you.
I’m strong through each time that my life is a fiery kiln because I know my Lord and Savior is working to make me more beautiful inside, more compassionate for others, more loving, more in His image.
Jermiah 18:1-4 This is the word that came to Jeremiah from the Lord: “Go down to the potter’s house, and there I will give you my message.” So I went down to the potter’s house, and I saw him working at the wheel. But the pot he was shaping from the clay was marred in his hands; so the potter formed it into another pot, shaping it as seemed best to him.
Father, may I always trust, even when I don’t understand, your shaping of my life. May I always look for the beauty that will come of the fiery kiln of the trials and tribulations that come in this life. May my telling of these trials and tribulations always glorify you and bring others into the loving folds of your arms. Amen
Grace Under Pressure 