Sweet summertime

Happy weekend y’all! Today’s blog is just a quick little hello and an update on our daily life. 

Today is Saturday and it looks like after a week of rain it’s finally cleared out and the sun is shining its happy little rays on us again. β˜€οΈ


Summer, that special time of the year, when no one has to be driven to school so I can sleep later, no lunches need to be packed, we have fresh tomatoes and peaches and watermelon, and weekends filled with cookouts and lounging by the pool! (Cue all the angels singing and all the mom’s shouting hallelujah) πŸ˜‚

Speaking of lounging by the pool… my sweet and talented husband completed the tearing out and rebuilding of the deck around the pool. And it looks amazing!
But wait! There’s more!
He didn’t stop there. We needed lounge chairs, so we began searching high and low for nice, sturdy, long lasting and affordable lounge chairs. Everything we found was either affordable but not long lasting, or long lasting but not affordable. So Jeff pulled up a photo online, asked if I’d like to have some of these kind of chairs, then went to the store and bought the supplies, came home, and built them. Just like that. He built 4 solid wood, adjustable chaise lounge chairs. With his own two hands, y’all. He is most talented. 


I had him paint them white, and we added navy cushions. I wanted a crisp, clean look. 

We added a couple of navy Adirondack chairs, some potted palms and flowers, and a couple of bright yellow side tables for a nice pop of color. We strung vintage style lights on the fence, and I added a couple of bright pink Gerber daisies in cute little white planters for the finishing touch. 

I love, love, love the way it’s all turned out. I just need to find some cute outdoor throw pillows for the chairs to pull it all together. 

We still have two more sections of our deck to replace, and will hopefully be adding a covered outdoor seating area,  but for now I’m thrilled with our progress. 

Summer means the end of another school year. My youngest finished out her first year of high school with a 4.0 grade point average and several art awards. Apparently she’s been harboring a hidden talent all these years. Who knew?!! I think these are fantastic, and the one with the motorcycle is going into a frame and finding a place on one of our walls. 

She also got her learner’s license, and we’ve been letting her drive us everywhere. πŸ˜±πŸš—Jesus, take the wheel. And the tires, and the brakes. Oh and the blinkers. Just take the whole car. 😜 It’s basically terrifying. I kid. Sort of. I mean she’s only nearly killed us like twice. I’m kidding again. Sort of. Ha. She’s actually doing pretty great. She’s catching on fast. It’s more me having issues than her. I think my anxiety has just gotten worse in my old age, lol. 

My oldest finished her first year of college with a 4.0 grade point average and a spot on the Dean’s list πŸ™ŒπŸΌ, and she spent the day today touring the college she will be attending in the fall and getting registered for classes. Over the past few weeks we’ve done a little shopping for things for her new apartment. This mama isn’t quite ready for my girl to move away, but are we ever really ready for that? Probably not. Thankfully she’ll only be a couple of hours away. 

So that’s how things are in our world. 
On a personal note, as I told you in my last post, I’m digging into the subject of forgiveness. Which has somehow led me directly to a study of grace. I’m finding that the two are undeniably connected, and that maybe the better understanding you have of what grace really is, the better your understanding of true forgiveness will be. I’ll be sharing more about that in the coming weeks, so stay tuned. 

In the meantime, y’all go get you some fresh summer tomatoes and a little bit of sunshine, and enjoy this beautiful weekend! 

❀️                                                                             Amy Thurston Gordy

A whole other blog for a whole other day.

So this is a subject that I’ve touched on in the past here and there, and made mention of from time to time. But I’d always include a quick reference or a few sentences, only to follow with: “but that’s a whole other blog for a whole other day.” I just haven’t really been able to bring myself to write about it, or to share in detail this part of my story. So I’ve put it off. Mainly I’ve just told myself, “you can’t write about this yet, because you haven’t figured it out yet. Not all of it anyway.” And I really, really like things to be neat and tidy. A nice little package that I can present. Something that even though it may start out ugly and messy and chaotic, I can eventually make some sense out of and give some order and hopefully help not just myself but others in the process.
Which is why sometimes I find it very ironic that this situation, these circumstances were the path life gave me. Because there is absolutely nothing neat or sensical or orderly about infidelity, betrayal, or the process you go through to heal from it. 

Yet somehow, we’ve found our way. And I wish I could tell you there was a trick. A specific way to survive it. While there is a long list of things I can and have shared with you that you could and should do that will help you tremendously in your recovery and rebuilding of your life, no matter the circumstance, there’s one basic thing that it comes down to. 

Keep moving. One foot in front of the other.    One NEW day at a time. 

It’s worked to get us through everything else, and so I have to believe that it will help me find my way to a better place with this too. 

So, for as long as I’ve put this off, I’ve decided putting it off just serves to keep me stuck. The only way to work through it is to work through it. I can choose to be complacent and say that I’ll never be able to figure this out and stay stuck, or I can keep moving, keep pushing forward and find a fullness in the redemption of our story that I know we haven’t begun to touch yet. As good as we are, I can’t shake this feeling that there’s so much more, something so much bigger that we haven’t even imagined. 

So that whole other day is today I guess. Might as well go ahead and dive on in. One foot in front of the other right? 

The subject I’m talking about is forgiveness. It’s something I never had to give much thought to before. No one had ever truly hurt me. Not in a big way anyway. But this. This was betrayal on another level. That’s the kind of thing I’m talking about. Not the little stuff, but the life changing, selfish, cruel, and deceitful kind of transgressions.

And when you’re faced with that kind of pain, those kinds of scars, and especially when you’re faced with someone that is seemingly unapologetic for the damage they have done; you suddenly realize that forgiveness doesn’t make sense. You wonder what forgiveness truly means. What it actually looks like. And mostly you wonder what it’s supposed to feel like. And how to know when it’s real, and not just empty words said because you know it’s the right thing to do. Especially when you can’t even think the words without still feeling the contempt rise up within you. How do you find a way to truly mean it and not have those feelings of resentment and anger?                                                                     How do you move past wanting to be able to say you forgive someone, but also still having an overwhelming desire to punch them in the face? 

Forgiveness is something that in one case, such as someone like my husband that is so incredibly sorry, though it didn’t happen overnight is almost easy now, and allows me to have a relationship and a future that would have otherwise been impossible. 
Yet in another; the case of forgiveness of someone that offers no apology, someone that gives no indication that they regret causing you pain, like the woman he had the affair with, brings me anxiety, frustration, anger ,and resentment. 

People tend to oversimplify it. They say “The bible says you have to forgive, so you just have to do it.” Or they say, “just keep saying it until you mean it.” Which is not actually terrible advice, there’s some real truth and power in speaking things not as they are but as you want them to be. But also… man, that can take a really long time. I mean, I’ve tried this method off and on for nearly 2 years now, and I’m still not feeling it. But I do agree that it’s a good place to start. It’s the getting to the place where you actually mean it, the place where you can actually wish them well, the place where you are able to see them with some semblance of compassion instead of hatred, that I’ve struggled with. 
So what DO I know about forgiveness? 
Nothing about forgiveness is easy. 

Forgiveness is costly. While it is freely given, it is most certainly not free, not for the one doing the forgiving anyway. 

However, not forgiving is also costly.

Forgiveness always includes sacrifice. 

Forgiveness is precious. 

Forgiveness brings freedom. 

Forgiveness is a process.

Forgiveness is a continual choice.

Forgiveness is not just a gift to the offender, but a gift to yourself.  

Forgiveness is not always deserved, but always necessary. …. I think.                                               Ok, ok. I know it is. But this is one of the thought processes that I struggle with. I think to myself, “do I really HAVE to forgive her?” 

And the answer is honestly a resounding “NO”. I absolutely don’t have to. There is always a choice. I can choose not to. And a really big part of me doesn’t want to. She doesn’t care. She doesn’t want my forgiveness. And I mostly imagine that she certainly doesn’t deserve it. Mostly because she hasn’t asked for it. So why should I forgive her? 

It’s pretty easy to just choose not to forgive. Sooo much easier than doing the work to try to figure out a way to forgive and mean it. So yes, I could definitely choose not to forgive her. 
But does that choice bring anything good to my life? The answer to that is also a resounding “NO”. 

I want the good stuff in my life, and to get that, I have to choose the stuff that brings the goodness. 

So true forgiveness is a mystery that I will continue to intentionally pursue, an understanding that I do not have in full yet, but I choose to believe that through this process, I will find it. 
I say that, having no idea even what the process is really going to look like, but just stepping forward with God’s promise that says “seek and you shall find.” And one of my favorites, Jeremiah 33:3, “Call to Me and I will answer you, and I will tell you great and mighty things, which you do not know.”

How to truly forgive someone that doesn’t seem to be sorry definitely falls into the category of a great and mighty thing that I do not know. 
Also I believe there’s a great and mighty thing that he is working in our lives, the fullness of which we do not know yet, so that verse speaks to my soul in many different ways. 
And seeing as how I’ve taken you all with me through everything else, I’m going to bring you along for this too. The good the bad and the ugly, that’s what I have said I would share from the beginning, and I’m pretty sure this subject is going to cover all three of those adjectives. With everything else, writing about it has seemed to help me work through it and find what I’m looking for, or to see things in a different light, or at the very least help me come to terms with it, and I’m hopeful that will be the case with this too. 
To be continued…

❀️                                                                             Amy Thurston Gordy 

This is my cup

He’s been asking me for weeks if I’m ok. “Yes”, I’d say. “I’m fine.” And I’d think to myself, everything is great. I am fine. I. Am. Fine. 

And for the most part I was. 

As I’ve been telling y’all, things are good for us. Really, really good. We are in such a good place in our relationship and in our lives.

Yet it was there. That little knawing feeling. That undercurrent of sadness. That heaviness in my chest. Creeping back yet again. It had been gone for so long this time. But they were back. Those tiny little thought bubbles, trying so hard to make their way to the surface, releasing their rancid contents of painful memories when they make it to the top. They were stupid random things. 

Like making dinner. Just standing there making dinner, and my mind wandered back to the first time they were together. 

I had made a nice dinner that night. I don’t cook big meals a lot, so I thought “he’s going to be excited to come home to this.” 

I was excited to see him. I remember missing him that day. When you’ve been together as long as we have, you don’t necessarily miss them as often during the work day the way you do in the beginning. You take each other for granted a little I guess. But that day, I remember missing him, and wanting him to be home. 

I had timed dinner to be done at just the right time so it would still be fresh and hot, knowing how long it would take him to get home from Forsyth. That time came and went. And I waited. The girls were hungry, so I told them to go ahead and eat. I texted him. No response. I remember a feeling of anxiety coming over me. I fixed him a plate, thinking he was probably going to pull up any minute. 

He’s really late now. 

I’m sitting alone. The nice dinner on the plates in front of me is getting cold. I text again. 

This time I get a reply. He’s so sorry, but his replacement showed up late and he had to wait on her, so he could give report. But he should be leaving soon. 

His replacement wasn’t late. He wasn’t completely lying. He WAS still at the hospital. But not in the building. Not working. Not waiting on anyone. 

And I was sitting. Waiting on him. With a beautiful plate of food on the table. 

And it was cold. 
It’s amazing how a vision of something as simple as a cold plate of food can tear your heart apart. 
Then there was the car. Her car. 
A black SUV. 

It’s where it happened, so black SUV’s have always been a bit of a trigger for me. The only details I knew were that it had dark tinted windows, which provided privacy for them, oh and her initials on the back. When I would notice one, I couldn’t help but do a double take. Is that her? Is that one her? Wait, was it a Ford? A Chevrolet? A Toyota? 

I didn’t know. And so since I didn’t know, I saw them in EVERY one. 

And over the past few weeks, for whatever reason I don’t know, it was as if they were always in my line of vision. They. Were. EVERYWHERE. And every one I saw brought me visions of him getting into the car with her. Being in the car with her. Every. Single. One. 

Do y’all know how many black suv’s you see on a daily basis? 

A lot. 

I haven’t asked him for any details in a long time. But this weekend I asked him for just this one. The actual make and model of her black SUV. So I could maybe at least stop picturing them in every single one I see. It sounds nuts, I realize that. The pain of betrayal does crazy things to a person. This was one of my triggers and believe it or not, knowing the specific make of her car helped to weaken that trigger so I can move beyond it. One specific model of car is easier to avoid than a million black SUV’s. 

I don’t like to think about her. And most of the time , I really don’t anymore. But sometimes it feels as if she’s a ghost, popping in to haunt me. To torment me. And sometimes it’s harder than others to make her disappear. 
Honestly, I think my brain has just been on a bit of affair overload. It seemed like every other day for almost a month, someone else was having an affair, or finding out that their spouse was. Some people I knew as acquaintances, some I knew as friends, and some I didn’t even know on a personal basis. But regardless, each time, my heart just sank. Knowing the pain each one was feeling. And I wanted to help. To give support. To give advice. But mostly to try and give them a little comfort. A little hope. 

Maybe all of that played into this undercurrent of sadness I mentioned earlier. I just felt, for lack of a better word, heavy.  And heavier. And heavier, until Jeff finally looks at me and says, “you’re not fine. You’re pretending you’re fine. But I know when you’re struggling.” 

I’ve learned to hide it. To control it and push it back enough that if you were to see me on one of these days, you couldn’t see it. It’s just an undercurrent. Not enough of a nuisance to keep me from being able to function fully on the surface. I can mostly ignore it until the still and quiet of night sets in, and the busy-ness of the day wears off. But Jeff sees it. He always sees it. 

“What can I do? I don’t like it when you get sad. It means I’m missing something. I’m afraid it means I’m not giving you what you need to feel happy or secure. It means I’m not doing my job.”
That sweet man. 
I look at that sweet, sweet man of mine, and I say, “it’s not you. At least not really. Not this you. You are doing everything right. It’s what that other guy, the old you. It’s what he did. And it’s stupid. It’s stupid because he doesn’t even exist anymore. And I don’t know why I let someone that doesn’t exist anymore still hurt me so much.” 
 And I don’t know why the smallest details that bubble up from that undercurrent , like the thought of that cold plate of food, or a black SUV, hold the most stinging venoms. And to some degree, I had been fighting that slow spreading venom for weeks. 

But it was time to deal with it. 

So I told him. I told him about the cold food. About the black SUV’s. About how it felt sometimes like she was a ghost that wouldn’t leave. 

“Have you tried forgiving her?”, he asked. 
[Insert large, heavy sigh here.]
I’ve tried.  Oh goodness, I’ve tried. 

A million different times in a million different ways. I’ve tried thinking it. I’ve tried telling myself that I forgive her. I’ve tried praying. I’ve tried analyzing. I’ve tried to see her in a different light. I’ve tried to make myself say it out loud. I literally couldn’t get the words out. I’ve tried. I haven’t figured it out yet. And I know that I need to. I know that I won’t see God’s full potential in our story until I figure this out. 
People look to me. They look to me as a pillar of hope. And maybe I am that. I hope that I am that. But they also believe that I’m this pillar of strength and forgiveness. 

But in that moment when I’m baring my soul to Jeff that night, I tell him that I don’t feel like I am actually those things. That it’s just not true. 

I forgive Jeff. I really, really do. It’s not even hard. He’s amazing. As a matter of fact, he’s so amazing and wonderful that people actually forget that he ever did it. My own sister, when talking about someone else that had a history of cheating, made the comment about that person in a conversation last week. She said, “once a cheater, always a cheater.” 
It’s a phrase that for those of us that have chosen to stay in a relationship after infidelity , makes us cringe a little. Because honestly, for some people, that statement can prove to be true. And it’s probably our innermost fear. 

And I feel certain she saw the look in my eyes when she said it. 

“Oh! I mean, not everyone! Not Jeff. It’s not true of Jeff. He’s different. Oh gosh, I’m sorry. Honestly, he’s redeemed himself so much , I forget he ever actually did that.”

And it’s true. He’s gone above and beyond. 

But the other woman, I don’t know. I don’t know the effort she’s made to redeem herself. With God. With her family. Her husband. Or her friends. But I do know she never made the effort to redeem herself with me. 

Forgiving someone that isn’t sorry. It’s hard to figure out. 

And that, I think is a whole other blog for a whole other day. 
“It sounds to me like you are listening to a lot of negative things about yourself that just aren’t true”, Jeff said. “You ARE a pillar of forgiveness. You forgave me for the unforgivable. For things that most people could never forgive, much less choose to love again. And you ARE a pillar of strength.”

(He says as my face is streaming rivers of tears and I’m sniffling away.) 

I responded, “Am I? Does this look like the face of a person that is a pillar of strength?”

He says, “That face is the face of the strongest person I’ve ever known.” 
Pastor Buren said something recently in a sermon a few weeks ago, in the Easter service. He was speaking about Jesus when He prayed before his crucifixion. “Lord, if there be any way, please take this cup from me.”
And for these past few weeks… maybe this past year and a half, I think I’ve been praying the same thing. In that moment of despair, He wished there was another way. That human side of him wanted a different cup. 

But it was his cup. It was the cup he was given. 

I too wanted a different cup. 

I told Jeff, “I just want so desperately to change something that can’t be changed. I want it to never have happened. I want more than anything something that I can never have. I want to go back to that night and I want you to say no. I want you to have seen in that moment the pain and destruction it would cause and I want you to have seen in your minds eye the way that it would torture me and I want you to have walked away and gotten in your own car and drove home to me and sat with me and that the food that I put on your plate that night had never gotten cold. I’m not ungrateful for what we have now. But right now. In this moment, I’d rather have you there, eating that warm food. I don’t care if that means that I wouldn’t be this person now, I don’t care if I’d never started writing. I don’t care if I never wrote a single word. I don’t care if it means that we couldn’t have helped any of the people that have come to us. I don’t want to be the example. ”

Wow. 

Yep. I said all of that. 
But basically, what I was really saying , was 

“I. Don’t. Want. This. Cup. ”

And I’d say that wasn’t just me not wanting the cup. I’m pretty sure that was me not just refusing to accept it, but hurling it as hard as I could at the wall in an attempt to shatter it. 
[insert large heavy sigh, here…again]
Back to what Pastor Buren said. He said “sometimes, you just have to drink the cup you’re given.” 
It didn’t really click with me when he said it. Matter of fact, I thought, “well, that’s not real encouraging or positive.” I mean, aren’t we supposed to think positively and expect better for our lives, and doesn’t God want the very best for us?” And I wasn’t sure how this statement he had made fit in with that theology. 
And it took me a few weeks. 

But now I get it.

I had a weak moment. Ok, maybe I’ve had a LOT of moments. 

I didn’t want the cup I was given. That’s ok. 

Neither did Jesus.

And maybe I took that a step further when I figured out I couldn’t do anything to change the past. It’s unchangeable. Nothing and no one can ever make it cease to exist, or change the fact that it happened. 

My blog may be named “Not My Story”, but this IS my story. 

This IS my cup. 

And I’ve held it. Although for the most part reluctantly. I’ve looked for the good. I’ve been thankful for the blessings. I’ve allowed it to be used for the good of others. 

But such a big part of me, has really just been like Jesus in that garden. Knowing what was required of Him. Knowing what needed to be done. Wanting the goodness that He knew would come from it, but also so overwhelmed with the sorrow of it that he desperately wanted that cup to be taken from Him. 

He didn’t choose his cup any more than I did. His cup was the result of the sins of man. Not his own, but all of ours. It was our bad choices that filled his cup. My cup was also the result of sin. And also not my own. The bad choices of the man I loved and the woman I’ve despised filled my cup. 

But in the end there was no other way. 

He had to drink the cup that was given him. 
If he had chosen not to, there would be no redemption. 

There would be no goodness.

There would be no hope.
My cup has been poured. I can’t give the cup back. There’s a strict no returns policy. 

I can throw it against the wall as much as I want. But it will still be mine. 

I can’t just keep glaring at it, willing it to disappear. Not only does that not work, it’s exhausting.

Sure, I’ve taken a few sips here and there. I’ve allowed God to turn some of the sour wine into something sweeter. 

But it’s time I drink the cup. 

Jesus had a moment, but he worked through the pain and then he drank the cup. And because of that, the world was forever changed. Men’s hearts were changed. The course of eternity was changed. 
Not thy will but thine. 
It was only when Jesus accepted the cup he was given and gave up his own will that God was able to use Him to redeem everything that needed to be redeemed. And so it also is with us. It is only when we accept our cup that He can use it to redeem everything that He wants to redeem with it. 

It’s there, in the acceptance, that the power of change is found. 

It’s there, when we finally drink the cup that’s given us, that we can find true redemption. It’s there that He works all things for our good. It’s there that we find God’s best for us. The beauty for the ashes. The joy instead of mourning.

And it’s not just for us. The redemption that pours from that cup spreads to others. 

If you want to see how big God really is, if you want to see how good He really is, if you want to see the fullness of His plan for your life….

you have to drink the cup.

I didn’t mean what I said that night about giving it all back. Do I wish it didn’t happen? Of course I do. 

But it happened. And I love the life I have now. I love my husband and the amazing person he has become. I love the friendships that have been born out of the aftermath. I love the blessings that God has so abundantly poured out on us. I love that Jeff found deliverance from his addiction. I love that we are both becoming our true selves. I love writing. I love the freedom that our transparency and authenticity has brought us. I love sharing the goodness of God and I love that we can give people hope. 

I don’t love the steep price it all came at. I don’t love the scars it left behind. A part of me may always wish that I could have had all of this without the price we had to pay for it. But it is what it is. 

Life is not perfect. 
But God’s plan for us is. 

So we can choose to keep trying to give the cup back. Or maybe even keep smashing it against the wall. 
Or we can choose to just accept it, and watch how God uses it to redeem us. Watch how He turns it from sour to sweet. Maybe, just maybe, even watch how He uses it to change the world, to change the hearts of men, to change eternity.

 

Thank you Pastor Buren, for speaking to my heart, even if I didn’t know at first that it was for me. I have a feeling it was actually for a lot of people. Thank you Jeff, for not growing weary of waiting on my heart to heal and for being a man that wants nothing more than to piece it back together. 

And thanks to all of you, who keep coming back here and reading my words. Thank you for not judging us in our failures, for being our cheerleaders, for praying for us. For being faithful, faithful friends. 

And as I finally try to fully accept this cup that’s been given me, I pray that the goodness and the sweetness and the redemption that pours from it touches every single one of you. 

πŸ’—

Amy Thurston Gordy

Oh, sciatica.Β 

How is it April already? This year is flying by! I’ve been missing in action on the blog here for a little bit. It wasn’t really an intentional break from writing, but between house stuff and a health issue, March was a bit challenging for me. 

The next step in our home renovations was to tear out the carpet in the bedrooms and replace it with hardwood floors. So over the weekends in March, we did one room at a time, and painted the walls and trim in each room as we went. There was so much stuff piled into my living room , it looked like a hoarder lived there. SO stressful! It also involved A WHOLE LOT of moving furniture in and out of rooms, and at some point during room # 2, I woke up with intense pain and muscle cramps from my lower back all the way down my right leg to my foot. 

I think the issue really started when I helped move the old oven out and the new oven up the stairs and into the house a couple months ago. I had been having some lower back stiffness since then, but nothing I paid much attention to. I think moving all the furniture around and the painting may have pushed it over the edge. 

The pain was nearly incapacitating for the first few days. Sitting was uncomfortable. Laying down was pretty much excruciating, so sleep was not something I was getting much of, and driving would literally bring me to tears. 

Sciatica is the devil. The devil, I tell ya. 

I made a couple of trips to the chiropractor, even though the thought of all that scary sounding bone popping absolutely terrified me. Especially that neck thing they do…that gives me the heebie jeebies! But at that point I was willing to try anything that might make me feel comfortable enough to just be able to get a few minutes of sleep. Unfortunately it didn’t seem to be helping. So I made a visit to the doctor, and they gave me steroids and anti inflammatories. I had to get a shot, so Jeff insisted that I have this ice cream on the way home. 😊


The meds thankfully got me well enough that the pain was more tolerable. I had X-rays and an MRI, and the diagnosis was a bulging disc at L5-S1. 

I walked with a limp due to a mixture of the muscle soreness and the loss of sensation in a portion of my foot, and spent the majority of each day on my feet, unable to relax, because the pain sitting or laying was almost too much to bear. It was exhausting.

But despite the pain and a very serious lack of sleep, I have found so much to be thankful for over these last few weeks. 
-I didn’t have to stay out of work. 
-My sisters. They checked on me all the time, and one of them brought me her tens unit. That thing felt like a million little bees stinging me but in an oddly good way. Those things really do help with back pain. 

-I had sweet friends and family members that gave me meds and creams to help with with the muscle spasms.

-One precious friend that was a former teacher at my kids elementary school insisted on bringing us a dinner of chicken salad, fresh bread, broccoli cheese soup, and also the most delicious muffins you’ve ever had in your life.πŸ’— This was just so, so thoughtful and sweet.

-I got so many messages from friends telling me about their own experiences with sciatica, giving me tips on stretches and exercises and also giving me hope that it does go away! 

-My Mom sent over a heating pad, a back brace, and food. Really good food like fried chicken and barbecue pork. Oh and M&M’s. Let us not forget the goodness of the M&M’s! 

– My Daddy delivered the food, and said the sweetest prayer for healing over me before he left. There’s not much sweeter in this world than the heartfelt prayers of a parent for one of their children. Especially my parents. If you’ve ever met them, then you know they are precious. Just the best of the best. 

-My MRI cost me a lot less than I was expecting. 

– I’m getting better. The limp is pretty much gone. The numbness in my foot is going away. The muscle spasms are few and far between. I can sit pain free most of the time. Driving doesn’t make me want to cry anymore, and most importantly, I am able to sleep. 

– I put myself on a no bread, no sugar, no fun anti-inflammatory diet last week (ok, so maybe I still have a little caramel creamer in my coffee in the morning. Don’t judge. Ha. I gave up bread and chips y’all. That’s huge for me. So I’m cutting myself a little slack for this tiny daily cheat!) and as an added bonus, I’ve lost 6 pounds this week. 

-My floors look amazing.

Seriously, just look at them. Jeff did good!


-And last, but certainly not least, I have an amazing husband that takes care of me so, so well. 
He single-handedly finished out the floors and took over my painting of the walls and trim. He moved all the furniture back in the rooms, and cleaned up all the mess. He also has done the majority of the house cleaning. He sat with me through my Doctor’s appointments. He rubbed my leg and foot every night to help with the muscle cramps. He brought me my meds and propped pillows under my legs and drove Anna Kate wherever she needed to go whenever he could so I could rest and so I wouldn’t have to drive. He made my coffee and fixed my lunches. All of this on top of working every day and being on call. And he did every bit of it with a happy heart and a sweet smile. 
I looked at him the other day and said, “you are a good, good husband.”
I don’t take saying that lightly, given where we were two years ago. 

And neither does he. 

It’s kind of a big deal. Huge, actually. That I can look at the man that shattered my heart and our lives into a million little jagged pieces, and say that to him, and mean it. Like really mean it. 

I took him back believing for something better. Hoping for something better. In our relationship, and in him as a person, and in every aspect of our lives. And I wasn’t sure about it. I wasn’t sure it was possible. Any of it. But I chose to believe that it could be. 
And every day, I’m continually amazed at how good our life is. 
He’s a good, good God.                 And Jeff is a good, good husband. 

Psalm 107:1
Give thanks to the Lord, for He is good! His faithful love endures forever.

❀
Amy Thurston Gordy

 

The ring

When we got engaged, I picked out my own ring. I knew exactly what I wanted. A round solitaire, cut just right so that it had lots of sparkle when the light hit it. I wanted it set on a thin delicate gold band, with a wedding band that was the same thin band, with a small diamond that wrapped around each side of the solitaire. It was perfect. Classic, nothing trendy or flashy. I thought it was a simple, but truly beautiful ring that would stand the test of time, the same way I believed our marriage would.
And it did. It sparkled more than most diamonds I’d seen, and did not dull over the years. The prongs held strong, and the dainty gold bands, although they looked as though they should be fragile, were just as strong as the day we bought them.

Right up until the year of the affair.

Suddenly, I noticed that one of the six prongs holding the diamond had broken off.

Then another. And another.

Then one day, the band got caught on something, which had happened plenty of times before, but this time it bent, leaving it slightly misshapen.

I remember thinking how odd it was. All of these years, the rings had been nearly perfect. Like new. But now, all at once, they seemed to be falling apart.

Was it a coincidence that my ring started falling apart at the same time that unbeknownst to me, my marriage was falling apart? That the rings that represented our wedding vows began to break at the same time that the vows themselves were broken?

Maybe.

Maybe not.
Shortly after finding out about the affair, I remember going and getting a manicure. It was not something I normally did. I would occasionally go get my toes done, but normally kept my nails fairly short and rarely painted them. As they were about to get started, I took off my wedding ring for the first time in a long time. There was such an indentation there where the ring had been for so long, and I remember being so struck in that moment by how that part of my finger had been seemingly permanently disfigured from years of wear. And I remember thinking to myself, “much like my heart.”

I stopped wearing my ring that day. I couldn’t bring myself to put it back on. I just couldn’t bear to look down and see it there on my finger. It was supposed to be a symbol of love. A token worn as a reminder of the vows that were made. But now, it only reminded me of vows that had been broken. Now it only brought me pain.

After we decided to reconcile, at some point, I did put it back on. But it never really held quite the same value for me. It didn’t bring me pain to look at it so much as it did before, but still felt a little like it represented a marriage that was in our past, if that makes sense. I had come to have an appreciation for the ring again, because that marriage held some good memories too over 24 years, but still, that marriage was broken, and we were building a new one. So maybe a new ring should represent this new beginning.
The funny thing about Jeff’s ring is that he actually went out and bought it a couple of weeks after I kicked him out of the house. I remember when he told me that he had bought one, I thought he was nuts. Because as far as I was concerned we had a slim to , ohhh, zero chance of staying married at that time. He had not worn a ring in years, and he said he was going to wear it, proudly, every day for the rest of his life. Alrighty then, I thought. You go right ahead.

I guess that’s a good example of his insistence, and persistence in trying to get me back. Ha. He was heavily putting into practice the whole speaking things into existence theology by claiming things as he wanted them to be instead of how they were. His life coach Joey’s lessons on positive thinking and how the world you create for yourself begins with your thoughts had already taken root. I couldn’t see this world he was creating in his thoughts, where we were happily married. Not yet anyway.

But he wanted a ring, so after carefully searching for the perfect one, he bought one.

“It’s made of tungsten”, he said. “It’s supposedly very strong and tough and durable, but still not too heavy. You can’t bend it or dent it, it doesn’t scratch easily and is almost impossible to break.”

My reply to him:

“I wish my heart was made of tungsten.”
Well, my heart wasn’t made of tungsten. But it turns out that it was a lot more durable than I had believed it to be. And now, over a year later, I can see the world he created with his thoughts and actions back when he first bought that ring. And now I treasure seeing that ring made of tungsten on his finger, and knowing that he treasures it, and the second chance that it represents.
Just before Christmas, I decided it was time to start looking for a ring of my own. This time, I wanted something completely different. Something that would represent this new beginning.

I didn’t want a diamond as the main stone this time. I wanted a gem stone of some sort.

I’m not one of those people that is into crystals and gems having special powers or anything of that sort. But y’all do know I’m a big fan of symbolism. Of things having special meanings.

One day as I was browsing Pinterest boards, I saw the most beautiful ring. It was love at first sight. And it was a beautiful pale pink stone set in diamonds and rose gold. Rose gold, y’all. It looked vintage and new all at the same time. Absolute perfection.

The description said the stone was morganite, and after a quick google search of what that stone represents, I knew it was the one.

It represents several things; the healing of a broken heart, trust, inner strength, peace, calmness, and joy.

It also represents love that is constant, maintained and lasting.

Do I believe that a stone will bring us all of that? No. No I don’t. Our thoughts, choices and actions will bring us all of that. But I sure do love that my ring can be an outward representation of our innermost desires for our marriage, and that I can wear it as a symbol of my healing broken heart, the rebuilding of trust, inner strength, peace, calmness, joy, and a love that is constant, maintained, and lasting.

And it doesn’t hurt that it is the most amazingly beautiful shade of peachy pink blush. The stone is oval shaped, surrounded by small diamonds, set on a thin rose gold band with a row of small diamonds on each side.
I don’t feel sad when I see my ring anymore. I don’t see the broken vows. When I look at the ring on my finger now, I see beauty. I see strength. I see goodness. I see all the goodness that’s come from our past, all the goodness in this present moment, and I see a promise for so much goodness in our future.

It is with those thoughts, and God at the center, that we build this new life. And now every time I look down and see this new symbol of our commitment, this symbol of everything good in our lives, past and present and future, I’m reminded to focus on just that.

What do you see when you look at your ring? Do you even notice it anymore? Do you even wear it?

Maybe take a minute today to remember what it represents. Maybe you’ve forgotten. Maybe somewhere in the busy noise of your every day life you’ve forgotten the value of the marriage that ring represents. Remind yourself of all the goodness from the past, all the goodness in the present, and all the goodness that is yet to come, and if necessary, start rebuilding your own marriage with those positive thoughts. When you stop taking each other for granted, when you fully engage in a commitment to the vows those rings represent and start truly valuing and loving each other with intention, what you will find, is a treasure.

❀

Amy Thurston Gordy

The truth. Live in that.

Arguments. When two people live together, they are bound to happen from time to time. We had an argument a few weeks ago that lasted nearly 3 days. Yep. That bad.

The somewhat little issues that the argument started out about became simple background noise to what the argument grew into. That’s the way arguments can spiral into something so much bigger than the real issues at hand. It becomes more about the reactions, and the things we say to each other than about whatever incident the argument started out about. The negative thoughts start and they set off a chain reaction and the next thing you know things are being said like, ” I don’t know if we can ever really be happy.” 

“All we do is argue.”, 

“you never do (fill in the blank) or you always (fill in the blank).”,

“maybe we can’t make this work.” 

Can’t. Won’t. Shouldn’t. Frustrated. Mad. Sad. Angry. Scared. Broken.Backwards. Not making progress. 

Even the word, Divorce. 

All these negative words. 

And suddenly I hear it. I really hear it.

And I say, “wait, do you hear what we are saying to each other? What are we saying to each other? Why are we saying these things? None of them are true. 

NONE OF THEM ARE TRUE!

We are good. What we have is good. This incident or that incident doesn’t define who we are or where our relationship stands. 

Look at how far we’ve come. We are a vast distance from where we started. There is progress. 

We do love each other. We do value each other. We do appreciate the effort the other makes. We can do this. We HAVE done this. We are in a better place in our lives in every way. Relationally . Spiritually. Financially. Our lives are blessed and full. 

That’s the truth.  

We had a bad day. That’s all. But we let the negative thoughts find a place in our minds to stick and then they spread like a wildfire. Planting lies as they spread. Planting seeds of insecurity and doubt and filling our heads with so much smoke that the darkness started blocking out the light. 

It can happen that easily, and it can happen that fast. Just a couple of negative thoughts can quickly trick your mind into believing that all the goodness is gone. 

So you can’t let it. 

Because it’s lies. 

It’s ALL lies. 

The goodness didn’t go anywhere. You just chose to look at something else. And by looking at that one little bad thing, it changed the way you were able to see everything else. It’s like putting a filter on a photograph. It can change the way you perceive things. It can take a bright, vibrant photo, and make it appear dark and dreary. Even though the colorful, happy image is still there, suddenly the only things you can see is the darkness and all the vast goodness that filled the image blurs into the background and becomes small in the shadow of this filter of negativity.

So be careful. 

Arguments are going to happen. 

But listen carefully to the thoughts. Listen carefully to the words you are speaking from those thoughts. Then hold them up to the light of truth. 

Are they true? Or have you allowed the negative thoughts to spiral and distort the truth? 

The lie that Jeff’s negative thoughts turned into:

“We are right back where we started, and no matter what we do or how hard I try we will always end up back there.”

The truth:

We are nowhere near where we started. Not even close. And we grow and move even further forward with every single setback. 

The lie my negative thoughts turned into:

“He’s not really sorry. He doesn’t really value me. He can’t handle the time and the patience it takes to get through this process, and I’m just not worth it to him.”

The truth: 

He is sorry. Beyond sorry. He shows me he values me every single day. He’s human and this process is frustrating. For him and for me. But he’s still here. Because I am worth it to him. 
We had a bad day. When it comes down to it. That’s all it is. Just a bad day. They happen. 

The important thing we all have to learn is to not let that bad day become our undoing. 

Deal with whatever issue is at hand without letting the negative thoughts make it something much bigger. 

And once the issue has been acknowledged, remind yourself of the good stuff. Remind yourself of the truth. 

You have to pay attention, and you have to learn to recognize those negative thoughts for what they truly are. Lies. 

The truth is the goodness all around you. Live in that. 

❀

Amy Thurston Gordy

Love. It’s worth celebrating.

Hey y’all! It’s been a busy few weeks. I really meant to sit down and write a post last week, but never really found a good time to sit and sort through my thoughts. So this morning, I’m making the time. It’s easy to let life and the busyness of it all take control of our time, making us feel like we just don’t have any for the things we would like to do, so sometimes, we just have to create it, and purposefully carve out time for things that are important to us. 

And in doing that, it turns out I’ve actually got two posts in me today! I wrote it as one big one, but realized the end needed to be a stand alone post, so the message doesn’t end up lost in the details of what’s been going on in our every day life. So first the fun stuff, and then, be sure to hop on over to my following post titled: “The truth. Live in that.”, if you want to hear about some life truths we’ve learned in the past few weeks. 

I’m not sure where to start. 

We’ve been busy. Emily is doing great in school and working a part time job. Kate was inducted into Beta club at school this week, and we found the most perfect prom dress that ever existed for her last weekend, so that was fun. And when I say perfect, I mean perfect. She had a specific brand that she had her heart set on. An expensive one. πŸ’° And on top of that, she attends a Christian school with fairly strict dress codes, meaning no midriffs, no cutouts, not too short. And I just happened to see a post for a dress that fit all of the above requirements , and was the brand she wanted. We went to this lovely family’s home to see it in person. And the look on her face when she saw it hanging there was priceless. Love at first sight. But would it fit? 

She slips it on, and I zip the back. She turns around,and I kid you not, she was absolute perfection in that dress. 😍 It was as if it had been made specifically for her. Not a single thing has to be altered. It’s elegant and glamorous and has just the right amount of sparkle without going overboard. And it was at a price point that her Dad and I could be in agreement with. It was as if she had said “God, I want this specific brand in a dress that fits me perfectly and is ridiculously gorgeous ,that my parents can afford to pay for”, and He said, “you got it, here ya go!” 

If you don’t believe that God wants to give you the desires of your heart, this dress is a perfect example of Him doing just that. 

I truly believe that dress was meant specifically for her. 

How is it that my baby is going to the prom? It goes by so, so fast. Here’s a little preview. We’ll wait until prom for the full reveal!


Jeff has been co-leading a class on positive thinking at our church with his mentor. Yep. Jeff. Co-leading a class. Who would have ever thought?  πŸ˜œ He really hasn’t had to do much leading with it, much to his relief, ha. But he had the opportunity to share a little at our class this week. As much as I would say that public speaking was out of my comfort zone, it is so much further out of his comfort zone than it ever came close to being for me. But he did a great job, so I’m proud of him for that. We’ve also had the opportunity to speak with some couples over the past few weeks that are just starting the process of trying to recover from their own revelations of infidelity in their marriages. Jeff actually met one on one and did a little counseling with one of the men. I love seeing how God uses our story and we are thankful for and humbled by the opportunities to help lead others down this path we’ve walked before them. Seeing them where they are and being reminded of that place of pain, and how far we’ve been able to move past that pain, it reminds us how blessed we are, and how thankful we are for the work God has done in us and our marriage. And it allows us to give these couples a little hope for their own future. 

We had a nice Valentine’s Day. We haven’t typically been big on going all out for Valentine’s Day in the past. But we view it a little differently these days. We should show our love and make each other feel special every day, sure. But there’s nothing wrong with celebrating a day set aside for that sole purpose. We try to honor Jesus in our hearts and lives every day, but still make a big deal out of Christmas. This is not really all that different from that concept. So if a day is set aside to honor love, and just do a little something extra, well, I say there’s just nothing but goodness in honoring that. I may have hinted rather heavily that I wanted some chocolate covered strawberries. πŸ˜‰ He’s a wise man and picked up the hints I was laying down. I’m not much for $100 bouquets of flowers. I love flowers, but I’m every bit as thrilled, if not more so, with the $10 bouquets from the grocery store. I mean, have you seen them lately? They have all our favorites. Tulips, lilies, dahlias, sunflowers, all the good stuff. So don’t say Valentine’s Day is too expensive. It doesn’t take much to make us girls feel special. It’s more about the effort than the product. Jeff did a great job of picking out my gifts. Beautiful lilies, (from the grocery store!), a gift card to a local boutique, and my favorite gift, a dozen chocolate covered strawberries, also bought from a local bakery. He honestly could have gotten me those and nothing else and I would have been thrilled. 


Sweet gifts from a sweet man. Celebrate love y’all. Don’t just skip it and say it’s a gimmicky holiday created to make money. You don’t have to spend any. Make a card. Anything. Don’t miss an opportunity to celebrate love. The way the effort you make will serve to make her feel loved and treasured is no gimmick. It’s a gift. πŸ’—

We decided it was time to start back on our home improvement projects. First thing on the list was painting the living room. So off I went to the store to pick out paint samples. We wanted something neutral, to replace the awful mustard/gold color that was the current color. That should be easy right? 

Wrong.

Turns out picking a neutral is so much harder than picking a color. There’s just so many. And so many undertones! My heart really loves the greys. The warm ones. And the cool ones. Pretty much all the greys. But alas, my sofa is brown. Like really, really brown. So I thought I could find a nice “greige” and make it work. 

Nope. Not happening. 

So after narrowing down from oh, about 31 samples,😳 


I finally settled on this warm stone/taupe. It’s called “Stone lion” from Sherwin Williams.


 I think it turned out nicely. After 2 days of painting, and my arms feeling like they may just fall off of my body, we were nearly done. There’s still about half of the white trim paint that I have left to finish. I really hate trim and am having a hard time willing myself to pick it up and finish it, ha. But I plan to finish that out this weekend. I think our next project will be pulling up the carpet and laying wood floor in the bedrooms and refinishing the existing wood floors in the living room. If I can figure out the logistics of when and how to do them with the dogs and such, so complicated! So that’s where we are with that. It’s coming along, slowly but surely. 
And speaking of slowly and surely, that’s probably a good way to describe how the whole healing from infidelity process works. We had a good 2-3 day argument a couple of weeks ago. Head on over to my next post later today to hear all about what we learned from that. 

❀

Amy Thurston Gordy