The Scarlet Letter

Sinner. Divorcee. Harsh right? I mean it’s like being called some politically incorrect racial slur. But, it’s true. I live an inextricably intertwined web of sin. I judge at first sight, I think ill of others, I lie outwardly and by omission, I have strained familial relationships, and I am divorced. Brand me with a scarlet “D” and send me to hell.

I can remember thinking about this when I filed. What would others think? How would they look at me? Would they judge me? What would people say? How would my boss react? My friends? My biggest fear? Would anyone want me at 30 and divorced? Would I ever get married again, have a family, be normal?

I also thought about how I would be perceived by others in the Christian community, and probably more so. In fact, I sat in a small group for weeks without saying a word because I wanted so much to be accepted by these people. There I sat judging—judging people that today I call my family. I just “knew” they would think I didn’t try hard enough, or entered into it too lightly, or was taking the “easy” way out. Heck, I had been there, done that. I have sat in judgment staring at my Facebook feed when I have seen others divorce and thought; oh man what happened that was quick. (talk about pot calling the kettle black)

But honestly, I judged myself the worst. I created this image that I would no longer be good enough that somehow I was unworthy of love. Unworthy of anyone's love, not only His love, but unworthy of my own love. I mean, how was I supposed to live with myself? I was wrought with guilt. Was I doing the right thing? Did I try hard enough? Would I be ok? Wouldn’t life be easier if I just stayed in my comfort zone? (This is the biggest lie we tell ourselves).

I have distinct memories of when I felt the guilt and shame. Telling my small group was the first. I couldn’t even look at anyone in the eye. I didn’t feel worthy of them to even look at me. (Thank goodness for the caring, loving eyes of K staring back at me from across the table). I was shocked by the outpouring of love and support. These women who barely knew me, but loved me anyway. They loved me more than I loved and cared about myself.

I remember seeing a friend from college out and she asked me about me M and I wanted to lie, but just said it out loud. And proceeded to walk sprint to my car as fast as I could. I skipped a wedding held at the same church I was married in. I nearly threw up telling a guy I was divorced because I didn’t want him to write me off at first meeting. I saw a woman who was at my wedding and knew M growing up, she asked me how he was and I just said fine. People assumed when I moved back to Fort Worth, that “we” had moved back. I had concocted this this world where everyone was staring at me, shouting "sinner!"

What do all these things have in common? My guilt, my shame, my fear. I self-branded my chest with a scarlet D, I didn’t need anyone else to do it for me. I engaged in self-pity, depression and wallowing on my own accord. I was my own worst judge and jury; I found myself guilty before I even started.

 I have found the world to be a tad more understanding. My friends, well they love me still. Those true friends, they have stuck by me and loved having “me” back. I have been welcomed into a family of people who have walked with my on my spiritual journey. They have lifted, held, and even dragged me up on even my worst days. Men? Yup, there are those who do not see me as tainted (and if they do I don’t want them anyway).

If you had told me a year ago what my life would look like today, I would have laughed at you. But, what a glorious ride its been. I am learning to be whole again and not because of any person or thing, but because of me and my desire to move closer to Him to fill the gaps and voids. I have learned to let go of the guilt and shame. I have learned to open my heart to the endless possibilities that lay before me.

 I have removed my scarlet D and put on my golden L. I am Lynn—take me or leave me.