A friend and I were talking tonight. The subject of emotionally moving beyond the past came up, and along with it my impending dissolution. I had stated that many people in my life–friends, family, co-workers, acquaintances–have asked why I am not far more emotional about it, why I’m not kicking and screaming about everything. Why I’m not trying to “get more” out of my ex. The truth? I have no desire to, and the reason is not what you might expect.

About a year ago, I felt I had pretty much emotionally hit rock bottom. Somewhere, in my mind, I knew that I had to claw my way out of whatever hole I’d sunk into, but also that I couldn’t do it alone. One night, before I went to bed–perhaps I was already in bed, I can’t remember–I began to pray. I prayed that God would help me through everything I was going through, because I couldn’t do it by myself any longer. I also prayed that He would help me forgive my soon-to-be-ex in the same way He has forgiven me. I fell asleep, troubled, but I do remember that I fell into a deeper sleep than I had in quite some time.

Next morning, I awoke refreshed, renewed, and light of heart. While the sun was not shining outside, I felt inside as if it were. I thought about my circumstances, and I was no longer angry. Did I still hurt? Sure, but I was no longer angry about it. Until that point, my husband and I had a tenuous relationship–snapping at each other, fighting for no reason other than the toilet paper roll needed replacing. This day, however, felt different; I felt different. I went through my day, and he eventually came home. I remember standing in the bedroom, and telling him I needed to talk to him. His countenance became irritated, and his body language was telling me he was on the defense. He made a remark–not a very nice one, as we had sadly fallen into that habit–and I brushed it off. I said that it was something important. He just stood there, as if waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“I forgive you,” I said. He still stood there. “I know I haven’t been perfect, either, but I just wanted to let you know that I forgive you.”

“You forgive me?” he asked. “Why?”

“Because God forgave me,” I told him. “Who am I to be so angry with you, when Jesus died for my sins and He forgave me? It doesn’t make sense.” He didn’t say anything, but just looked at me. I shrugged. “So, I forgive you. That’s what was so important to say.”

He was quiet a moment. “Okay,” he said. “Thank you.”

I simply smiled and walked away.

Have we fought since? Yes. I mean, who am I kidding? I have forgiven him, but that doesn’t mean that we both still do things that get under each other’s skin. The anger just doesn’t last as long as it used to. And the more time that passes, the less angry I am. I’m able to see things more objectively, and arguments are not as common as they once were. Are we still seeking dissolution? You bet. But I have peace.