During the long weeks of my illness, my prayers yielded only, "Go where you can truly love and be loved." I didn't now where or how I was going, but love was my destination.
I took stock of my possessions. I had a car that still ran; thankfully paid off. I had a regular paycheck, no longer deposited into the joint account. I managed to take my clothes, some cookware, keepsakes, photos, and personal records before my husband changed the locks. And I had a temporary safe haven, my brother and sister-in-law's loving home 30 miles away.
I assessed my abilities. Historically, I did some of my most creative and successful work on new projects. Now the project was me. And there was the amazing fact that I had faced death and had not fallen apart. Then, the wondrous gifts of that "inoperable tumors" diagnosis: clarity--for once I knew what mattered, and what did not; and hope--surely my life was spared for a higher purpose.
Though I grieved a broken marriage, I had exited honorably--the joint debts I would no longer help pay balanced by the home equity I would not split.
I was still on paid medical leave, and prayed that my physical strength returned soon. I planned to rent a downtown loft, in a converted hotel where some of my women co-workers lived.
I met again with the marriage counselor; she agreed that my marriage could not be saved. A few days later, the counselor called to warn me. My husband had come to her office, threatening her and me. He left only when she called the police. She recommended that I leave the area as soon as possible, and file for divorce under "address protection." She added, "Don't you have a daughter in Arizona?"
Shaking, near tears, I called my supervisor intending to resign. "I have to leave the state; my husband threatened my life and the counselor said take him at his word."
My supervisor offered not sympathy, but questions. "Did you know we have a claims office in Arizona?"
"Yes, but I'm a billing clerk; I don't have claims experience."
"Hold on, hold on. We opened a call center in Tempe two weeks ago. It's right across the freeway from Arizona State. Isn't that where your daughter goes to school? I can set up your transfer with a phone call."
He did, and I had a new job in a new city. Wow, and wow. As I thanked God, I prayed that my body mend enough to see this through. My supervisor said it'd be a month before the next training class started. I figured I could find an apartment by then. I called my daughter to let her know I would soon be her neighbor.
Before I could tell her my "good" news, she said, "Mom, I'm in a jam. My roommate just found out she's been accepted as an intern in D.C. She can't pay her half of the June and July rent."
I suggested finding another roommate, but she protested: "No one's going to want to move in for only two months!"
"I know someone who does, Honey. Me."
And so it was... My daughter had the necessary help with the rent; I had a second, loving shelter.
Until next time, may you know the joy of blessed synchronicity.
LovingSoul
