My kids and I went to visit our friends in Benton this weekend. We enjoyed the belated birthday celebration for Matthew (complete with grilled chicken and all the fixings – including a cornbread salad that is worthy of its own blog entry), lots of fun, tons of laughter, and... the bathrooms.

Yes – the concept of a house containing four bathrooms is almost too much for us. Something about everyone getting to do their business at the same time – each on their own private throne – is just simply fascinating after a year here at the Heights.

(I totally understand the investment wisdom and resale value effect of owning a home with this many facilities. However – ownership of a home of this magnitude does rob a family of the camaraderie of a good rousing game of “Who Has To Go The Worst And Therefore Gets The Bathroom First” each time the family car pulls into the driveway. So, it’s all about what you really want out of life, y’all.)

Three years and three days ago I packed the minivan with enough clothes for a week, added my kids, and left our house in Georgia for a much-needed visit in Ruston. What I didn’t know as I left was that I would never return. There are those who will never believe that I didn’t plan it that way. But I didn’t. In an odd way –I was more surprised than anybody over the way things turned out. While I was away from the difficult situation, the Lord opened my eyes to the reality of how things truly were. Confiding in wise friends for counsel and a session with a Christian counselor defined the line drawn in the sand. Things. Were. Not. Right.

It has not been easy. And if I could have looked ahead to see just how hard things were going to be – I probably would have just dropped dead with dread. However, the thing I cannot explain is the wonder of His Provision. As I made decisions that went against everything I wanted for my life and the lives of my children – He never left me. Every time there was a question or a doubt – He provided unexplainable confirmations. Provided comfort when I was so hurt and shattered. Provided a shoulder to cry on when I couldn’t hold the tears in any longer.

(By the way – “holding in tears” is NOT my spiritual gift.)

Anyway – the road has not been a straight line, and it has not been smooth. I have learned to trust my gut. That feeling in the pit of my stomach that screamed “Something is not right. You can’t go on this way. Listen. Listen. LISTEN.” That same gut feeling has whispered from behind, from the left, and from the right – guiding and shepherding me like an internal compass.

And so, here I sit. A divorced mother of two with a Southern Baptist seminary degree that is about as useful as a certificate of attendance at a juggling expo.

Yet life is good – or at least well on the way to being good. I could have never dreamed I could approach each day with the joy and expectation that I do. Being a music teacher is something that I feel was inside me all along – just waiting for the right time to come to the surface. To see my precious kids have the opportunity to grow in freedom and happiness makes every scar worth the pain.

Every single relationship and experience in my life has filled in the gaps and crevices of the puzzle to make my life what it is today. Many of you reading are part of that beautiful tapestry. Some of you might not agree with or support the path my situation has led me down – and I understand and respect that. You see, there was a time not so long ago that I would have shaken my head in pity and concern at a woman who made the series of decisions that I made. But my experience has taught me a deep, cutting lesson: You never, never know what a person is enduring behind the scenes. You never know the agony in a soul that rises to the surface at night in the dark and the silence. You never know.

In my typical style of being very concerned with things that really don’t matter all that much – there is one thing that I am almost obsessed with losing. My set of fine china – most place settings purchased by people who knew and loved me since before I was born – was lost to me. There are countless other things that are much more practical that I could yearn for, but the remembrance of those beautiful plates with the navy and gold edging and the cups that felt so elegant in my hand seldom ceases to bring tears to my eyes. There are other dishes to be had – and I vow to buy myself some one day soon. The thing that breaks my heart is that we ate on these dishes maybe a dozen times. I was saving them for special occasions. They never came.

Don’t save the beautiful things in life for special occasions. Pour beauty and laughter and love generously into every moment. Every moment you breathe and laugh and love is worth celebrating.

The sun is still shining on this beautiful fall day here in Pizza Hut Heights. But the lights will be going out early tonight.

After we all have one last turn in THE bathroom.