Almost as soon as I think I have forgiveness figured out, God shows me yet another area where I need work.

This week I am starting to realize that forgiveness means giving up the story.

If you know me, then you are familiar with my stories. (If you know me well, you are probably sick of hearing them.)  I have many stories and I tell them a lot.  But my divorce story is my all time favorite.  Wanna guess why?  In 99% of my stories, I come off looking like a complete moron.  But in my divorce story, I look pretty good.  And so naturally, it’s my favorite.  And somehow, along the way, I have allowed that story to become part of how I identify myself.

Last weekend I sat in the stands at a band competition.  I was surrounded by band moms.  These are new friends.  And somehow they missed the story.  My ex-husband sat several rows behind us.  “So,” one of the moms said as she leaned toward me. “I finally met your ex. It’s so great that he is volunteering to help the band this year.”  Several faces looked at me expectantly.  They were ready for me to tell the tale.   In their defense, I can usually talk for 15 minutes about a single trip to the grocery store so they had every right to expect a long, juicy explanation about my ex-husband.

But I just couldn’t deliver.

I looked up at Ryan.  And our child sat on one side of him and his child with his current wife sat on the other side.  And I was just so overwhelmed that I get to serve a great big God who is able to heal so much brokenness.

You see, God has a whole bunch of stories to tell about me.  But He doesn’t because I am forgiven.

I am not suggesting that we have no right to remember or tell people about the stuff we have endured.  But the only person who should look good in my divorce story is God.  Because my story should be His story.

I look at my life today and I stand amazed at the stained glass family that God has created out of all these shattered pieces.

That’s my story now.

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