Sean and I have been at odds with one another over some lingering divorce issues. Suffice to say that divorce is never, ever easy. Two lives that had been combined are irreparably being separated, worlds, thoughts, love, things, all torn apart. I know, I have been there, and it’s one of the hardest things I have ever done.
I’m going to be honest. It’s not easy for me to see Sean having to go through this. We are supposed to be getting married, but now that there is an issue that has to do with debt and alimony, and lots of money things, it seems we must wait to be married. As a planner, a project manager, I do not do well with things when they are out of my realm of control. It’s not so much that I am impatient, but that I like to be informed and I like to plan. This whole situation has placed me squarely outside of my comfort zone.
It’s made me realize that loving someone means that you sometimes have to support them, love them, even when you are uncomfortable. This has moved us beyond the new-found squishy cutesy-name kind of love. This is love, big and bold, loud and brash, screaming in your face. This is when you hold on, dig in, and pray. Pray for strength, pray for direction, pray that you have done the right thing. Pray that you will make it through, together.
This morning’s discussion was going poorly. I knew I had to challenge myself, and so I admitted to Sean that I was as scared as I’ve ever been. That I’ve been pushed out of my comfort zone and I know that I’ve come across as angry when I don’t mean to. I’m trying with all of my heart and strength to stand my ground and make things work. I told Sean that I have to keep telling myself that I believe in us, even in the moments when I part of me says I shouldn’t. That I believe we can get through this, even when my old self would have turned tail and run. That great relationships are met with trial, that the strong ones find strength in each other, and that together couples overcome adversity, instead of crumbling beneath it. We cried and agreed, and stopped arguing.
On the way in to work, I wanted to hear a song of hope. Of courage. I wanted to hear Craig Taubman sing that “in the bitter and the sweet, in the calm and in the storm, all of life is Holy Ground.” I typed “Holy Ground” into YouTube and got back a long list of results, including a song by OMD.
OMD (Orchestral Maneuvers in the Dark) is my favorite band. They were big in the 80s, perhaps you remember them from “If you leave,” “Dreaming,” or “Forever Live and Die.” They hadn’t recorded anything in years, and last I knew they were not together or touring.
Today, I found OMD’s “New Holy Ground,” which is a off of an album released last year that I have never heard. It’s a song full of hope. I firmly believe that this was no mistake, no random event. The universe heard my words and knew I needed to be bolstered. I feel that this song was an affirmation of the growth that happens when someone admits they are afraid. I had stared down the demons, I had quieted all the voices in my head that said to run and hide. I spoke my heart, and I recognized and chose love instead of listening to my own ego, which always wants each of us to choose fear. I was proud of myself. And here, being sung by my favorite band, in words I had never heard before, was a song that spoke of my decision and my current journey:
“Take a look at yourself and walk to the edge
And take a deep breath and be someone else
Take a look at yourself and see what is found
Step into the light onto new holy ground”