What an incredible season I’m in right now. I’m sorry for the lack of blog posts recently. I haven’t found it easy to write, due to a major life transition: getting married and moving to another region of the UK, with all the practical and emotional implications of that, both for me and for my children.
Learning to love again and to share my life with a partner, after many years of singleness, has been a breathtaking roller coaster ride of emotions. Partnering with my husband, together with God, has been an exhilarating and sometimes painful journey of discovering trust and acceptance.
Occasionally I have experienced flashbacks, where the scenes of former hurts and abuses of trust replayed in my mind. It can be disconcerting when seemingly trivial events trigger old, distressing memories. Thankfully, I have been able to bring the memories to Jesus and receive healing.
Three days after my wedding, I accidentally fell and broke my wrist.
The injury was quite severe, but with a combination of healing prayer and medical help, I was quickly back to normal. My physiotherapist was genuinely surprised at the speed of recovery and the extent of mobility in my wrist for an injury of this type. I’m thankful for the medical staff who treated me, and for the healing power of Jesus.
However, there is a deeper and more profound story that lies behind the physical healing.
Immediately after the accident, as I sat in the hospital, awaiting treatment, I began thinking about the consequences of my injury. Without hesitation, I started apologising to my husband for causing him inconvenience; apologising for my “stupidity” at having this accident, which meant that I could only do light tasks, and I wouldn’t be able to drive the car for a number of weeks.
Irrational feelings hit me hard without warning. I felt suddenly inadequate, as if I was a useless burden. With my ability to be independent under threat, I felt fearful and out of control. These powerful waves of emotion made no logical sense. My husband was being gentle, kind and supportive towards me, yet a part of me expected him to be angry.
Old memories were resurfacing of situations where I had been rejected, even yelled at, for making mistakes like this, causing me to be on tenterhooks, waiting with trepidation for the all too familiar retaliation.
The retaliation never happened. My husband supported me for the whole time my wrist was in plaster, doing the extra driving and household tasks without complaint.
This touched me deeply, to realise so early on in our marriage, that my husband loves me just as I am. I don’t need to prove myself. I don’t need to perform. He loves me if I’m having a bad day, just the same as if I’m having a good day.
All my old history of performance dependent, conditional love was rewritten in the space of a few weeks.
Love is Unconditional
This knowledge that I am loved unconditionally has reduced me to tears on quite a number of occasions. Why would my husband love me even on days when I have little to give in return? Because that is the true nature of love: it’s unconditional.
And this love that I receive from my husband is a reflection of what God is like. There is nothing I can do or say to make God love me more, and there is nothing I can do or say to make God love me less. He just loves me, because it’s His nature to love. My security lies within this revelation.
Love: it’s an extraordinary, lifelong journey of discovery, and I’m still learning.