My Crooked Path

Cade, Age 4, with His First Belt

I've been emotional all week: contemplative, withdrawn, overwhelmed. Cade will test for his Black Belt on Saturday, and I spent some time naming my mood "anxiety," which made no sense because the boy is not only capable, but also (and more importantly) confident.

I wondered if I were dreading interacting with ex family members, but--while that can be a little awkward--it's never been terrible. I tried to blame my hormones and my pregnancy, in general.

Only during Cade's and my haircuts, this afternoon, did I figure myself out. (Isn't it interesting how very difficult it can be to arrive at the source of one's upset and unrest?)

I looked down at the floor and realized: I couldn't distinguish my hair from Cade's. "His hair's just like mine, isn't it? Same color and texture," I said to our stylist Brooke.

"Yep," she laughed. "Same mind of its own, too."

Cade, studying himself in the mirror, said: "I have everything the same as Mom, I think. Except I have my dad's nose."

I joked around with him, telling him thank goodness it's a fine-looking nose, also that neither his dad nor I was about to claim those ears, and it hit me like a ton of bricks: Cade started karate just as his dad and I were separating, eight years ago.

I was so worried about our little man, and it was obvious: so was everyone else. "What about Cade?" people would ask.

"Well, he'll be with me four nights a week and Sundays, and he'll be with his dad three nights a week and Saturdays," I'd explain.

"That might work for now," they'd say, shaking their heads, "but it'll never work once he starts school." I was so afraid they were right, and the years gaped and yawned ahead. I couldn't see far enough down their throats to surmise what might happen beyond this hour, this day, this week.

All I knew to do was pray. I prayed for forgiveness, comfort, discernment, guidance, help. I got better at it, over time. I invited Jesus into my divorce in ways I'd never invited Him into my marriage. And I put one foot in front of the other.

He has made my crooked path straight.

More importantly, He has made things well with my son. Cade's flourishing can be measured in many ways, not the least of which is this impending Black Belt test.

My sad, little brain struggles in keeping up with what my heart has been beating out all week: the Lord can redeem, and He does. He has. He will. Anything else is a lie of the enemy, and I refuse to allow it spoken into my life.

He has made my crooked path straight.