Tick. Tock.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

It's like a scene in a movie of people in the waiting room watching time pass so slow its painful. Wanting the news to be good or at least hopeful, but knowing, understanding the likelihood that it won't be. And yet the scene simultaneously contains the intense anxiety of the hero trying to disarm the bomb with just seconds to spare. Hoping for his life but knowing it could just explode in his face.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

Time passes so slow. I don't know what demons I will face from one moment to the next. The anxiety is overwhelming. The uncertainties plague my every thought. I want to turn to the Word but it seems like the answers I want aren't there. And I fully recognize the pride and dishonor in that. I am simply so downtrodden that sitting Indian style in sack cloth and a pile of ashes dazing for days is more appealing to me than just about anything.

And yet that's no excuse. To deny God's goodness. To deny His power. If anything I should be more alive than ever. For what greater picture of His goodness is there than its comparison to the destruction and havoc wrought by sin. And what greater opportunity for His omniscience to be displayed than in a seemingly hopeless, helpless, dire situation such as that of my marriage.

I used to be a fighter. I used to say I'll do anything. His soul is of utmost importance. "Whatever it takes" were my words. There is a glimmer of that still existing but it is fading in the fog of despair.

However, I am holding on. I am bound to obedience. My lover wants to stay and so I must. For to give up now and not allow God to be glorified from these ashes turned to beauty is a far worse fate.