Thinking at an ungodly hour of the night; or, losing my marbles

I woke up at 2:30 am (thank you, sleep cycle) and also happened to remember that I needed to move my car. And now I am wide awake, thinking about how different my life is now from a year ago.

A year ago, sometime between the hours of November 10 and November 11, I slept a fitful sleep after having just broken up with my boyfriend of two years. I remember opening my eyes to the gray dawn streaming into my room. I actually wanted to go back to sleep, to forget. But I knew I would just wake up once more to feeling snapped in two. I'm pretty sure I woke up with my arms in the air, grasping for something in front of my face, which actually ended up being nothing.

The rest of the day was a blur. I don't sing in the shower (often...), but I managed to squeak out a few notes that morning because the pain in my heart was excruciating:
In the chaos, in confusion, I know you're sovereign still...
(here is a better version of it, if you're not familiar with the song: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=axqXMuW8x1U)
And at the end of the day, my comforter served as the largest kleenex in the world as I laid in it wrapped up, an ashen and tangled heap.

But here I am a year later, having more than survived to write about it. This breakup has been one of my most significant defining moments thus far in my young life - and I'm certain that there will be more. A year ago, I felt like a bomb had detonated somewhere close to me - and if you saw me walking around a year ago today, I literally looked shellshocked. I don't mean to keep looking back - but I do, because for every ounce of pain that I experienced on the inside, that kind of broken was, and is, beautiful.

It's November 11, I have been single for exactly one year, and I have no frame of reference anymore in terms of life experiences. Everything is new - and everyday, I am more confident that God engineers our circumstances perfectly. In fact, I found myself being reminded of this fact through an illustration I heard at a tiny church service I found at the airport during my three hour layover in Atlanta on Sunday.

It was about a little boy running around with marbles clenched in his tiny fist. His father knew that the marbles were dangerous because (1) the child might swallow them or (2) the child might drop the marbles while running and slip and fall on them. In order to lure the boy away from the marbles, the parent produced a new and better toy - an airplane - for which the boy would have to let go of the marbles in order to grasp at the better thing.

Without remorse, I think it would be appropriate to say that I have lost my marbles...