The hardest part of publishing this blog is publishing this blog. After mustering up the courage to write everything down, including the parts that make me uncomfortable, I actually had to publish this blog. Domain name? Metadata? Widgets? This technical stuff is giving my fear a run for its money in the race to prevent me from sharing this story.
When it came time to enter a title, I had my first case of writer’s block…awesome start! If this were a book, I’d assign a bad title, turn in my manuscript, and pray that I get an editor that has the foresight to change the title to something worthy of the New York Times Bestseller List instead of the bottom of the bargain bin.
With no editor by my side, I played with several blog titles. Just my name. My name with a clever subtitle. A Biblical place. A catchphrase. A prophetic word. A church billboard. Anything. Ultimately, I found myself writing a want ad for an editor instead of writing out my story.
First-time blogger and incessant verbal processor seeking a sympathetic wordsmith with the ability to see through typos, bad grammar, and faulty storylines (for which there are many). Responsibilities include turning the mediocre ramblings of a highly-awkward bleeding heart into a Oprah-worthy read; suggesting breathtaking and relevant photos for each post; acting as licensed counselor, constant encourager, and full-time ghost writer; and taking full responsibility for any and all writing that offends, bores, and occasionally induces the equal but opposite wrath of Matthew Paul Turner and Matt Walsh. Willing to work pro bono.
With no willing participants, I stuck the working title “redo” into the template and continued on. Being the over-analyzer that I am, I started thinking about this story. About the good parts that I’ve replayed a thousand times, and about the bad parts that I have tucked away in my heart, wishing I could have a redo.
But this is not a blog for hiding the mistakes. This blog is for claiming the failures and the faults in my story and asking God for the courage to do it again, to give Him the glory for any redemption and restoration that comes my way. Those failures and mistakes mean that I didn’t stop because I wasn’t perfect. Spoiler alert, none of us are perfect. I kept going, all the while hoping and praying that God was rewriting the ending to my tragedy.
verb / re·do / rēˈdo͞o
1. to do (something) again especially in order to do it better
noun / re·do / rēˈdo͞o
1. something redone
2. the act of an instance of redoing
The deep-rooted pain that tears at you when you’ve been hurt beyond words is hard to forgive, especially when the offender is someone who is supposed to love and protect you. I don’t judge anyone who has been through infidelity and has walked away. Sometimes walking away under that kind of hurt is the best decision, and I believe that God understands that and is compassionate towards those who have made that decision. But if you want to stay, if you want to work it out, there is an opportunity for a redo. Don’t be afraid to take it.