Coram Deo

By Isela Boulware

My life was lived in a shroud of darkness. I existed in a vacuum filled with sadness, despair, insecurity, and abuse. Long, horrible days gave way to miserable, lonely nights. No one wanted to be me—least of all me. I was on my own. In my world, there was no God.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Feb 22, 2018
• ISBN: 9781543914160

Book preview

sins.

CHAPTER

One

Ribbon in the Sky

Discouraged to encouraged

I woke up at four o ’ clock in the morning, and it was still dark outside, the sun had not even considered coming up to say hello to the world. My hyper-anxious state has robbed me of sleep and filled me with waxing excitement. I had never felt that way before, and my brain was operating on overdrive. I was mentally wrestling with good and bad thoughts; and exponential numbers of thoughts and ideas were spinning in my head. As I laid on my bed, staring at the ceiling, I couldn ’ t help but think about the different experiences that I had encountered over the thirty-seven years of my life. I contemplated the things I had gone through and how far I had come, wondering if the bad outweighed the good or vice versa. I pondered my potential future, Where will I be next year? Will I get severely sick sometime soon? Will I possibly suffer in the process? Will I ever be a good wife and mother?

To refrain from thinking about anything negative, I often told myself that I was a real person, but I was never truly confident in that statement. I had my moments, as does everyone else, after all, I reassured myself, what defines a real person? Looking back, I believe that I sometimes I operated from past fears, a lot of my actions and reactions consistent with the traumatic episodes that I had experienced. However, breaking a common thread through my lifetime of struggling as a woman, wife, mother, daughter, sister, and friend, I had only recently learned how to ask others for help. Even when I did ask for help, I still wound up taking on tasks by myself anyway out of the fear that nobody was capable of doing things according to my personal preferences. On this particular day, that was the situation. I thought I was going to receive the help for which I was asking, yet I ended up having to do mostly everything by myself. However, the ugly truth was that I never did ask for help! I was tired, irritated, and frustrated after I had begun piecing together everything on my to-do list in my head, step by step. I had nearly twelve hours to get these things done, which seemed like plenty of time, but given what I needed to get done, it wasn’t. I continued to stare at the ceiling in deep thought. Suddenly my focus drifted toward the ceiling fan that hung above our bed. We rarely turned it on because when we did, it made a loud, obnoxious clicking sound as it wobbled from side to side. I was almost positive that one day, this fan would finally pop off and cause irreparable damage to someone or something. I had also noticed an accumulation of dust creeping down the edges of the blades; in all fairness, I hadn’t dusted it for three months. Dusting the fan blades had to be one of the most hassling procedures ever because I would have to lay a protective rag over the bed, climb on top of the bed, vacuum the dust off it, and then wipe it, a truly tedious chore. Sometimes instead of going through the tedious process, we would just use the air-conditioning so that the dust wouldn’t develop after each use. The air-conditioning vent was next to the window and over our bed, so it blew air directly on my face every single night. The cold air would cause me to cough in my sleep, and the cough would linger throughout the day. In a sense, this situation was familiar, metaphorically. If I let go of things and forgot about them, like the dust forming on the fan blades, piles of negativity built on them. If the problem wasn’t addressed in time, it became an issue that would most likely lead to adverse consequences. Nevertheless, we still chose the easy route, ignoring the problem and thinking that we had fixed it with a temporary solution, just like putting a band aid on a bad cut and ignoring possible signs of infection.

Maybe an actual solution was too much work for us, or maybe we are fearful and think that we are just incapable of dealing with it. We make excuses for ourselves that hinder our growth, choosing mediocre satisfaction while winding up unhappy because we still haven’t addressed the unsettled business. I would admit that Rick and I had things to work on, and our relationship has been a constant journey. These issues have, in fact, brought us closer and helped us grow. Through it all, we had very much anticipated July 5th, 2013, our wedding day. I was looking forward to marrying the wonderful man to whom I had been engaged for the past two years. I felt blessed that he seemed to be just as enthusiastic about the idea of tying the knot. Our love was rare, sincere, and very passionate. We had the type of love that many people desire. I got the idea that men in general don’t really nag about things that bother them like women do. So, I felt like the problem maker all the time, which left me feeling discouraged and discontent because of high expectations about him and our relationship and getting those hopes shattered each time. I knew he could not read my mind to know that I wanted to be complimented the day I wore his favorite color or put special efforts into getting ready. He could not have known that day that I had hoped he would make me a fresh cup of coffee when I was running late for work. I never stayed mad at him; I realized how much I had to be thankful for.

Frequently, I watched Rick as he slept peacefully. He is a beautiful man. He doesn’t really flaunt his good looks, and his down-to-earth personality and noble character make him even more attractive. We spent a whole chunk of our time together cracking jokes and talking about our kids and our future life together, and he made my heart come to life with his vigor and enthusiasm. We would often ask ourselves, Where have you been all of my life? because life before we met was not fulfilling. Before Rick, I had existed, rather than lived. I realized that time had advanced, and I needed to advance along with it, so I got up and tip-toed my way out into our walk-in closet, which also served as my prayer room. This was my own private space, where I received the most clarity and solitude. I felt as if I was standing face to face with God, in his very presence.

My hands got to work, flipping open the pages of my Bible. I read:

1 Corinthians 13:4-8. Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy; it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others; it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away.

When I first heard these verses at church, they spoke directly to me and they became my favorite scriptures. I found something compelling about these words because they reflect the opposite of everything that I was. As I gave it deep thought, ruminating upon it and dissecting every single layer, I realized how wrong I was. I knew that if I changed those negative things about myself, I would become a better person. Gradually, I began to make changes to conform to the standards of the word and to the rules of love. As I sat on the floor, I prayed and asked God to change me into the person, wife, and mother I should be. I wanted to embrace the person I would become and learn to celebrate myself. I was at a juncture I had never experienced, and I wanted to become a better version of myself.

Being a bride and becoming a wife

Two hours had gone by, and I had launched myself into the bathroom. I turned on the shower, and it took about a minute or two before the water warmed up. I brushed my teeth vigorously and rapidly and mentally drifted into a zone. I suddenly realized that I had been splashing toothpaste everywhere, and I quickly picked up a rag to wipe away all the mess. For a moment, I saw myself as being that mess; I am the first to admit that I needed a few adjustments in my life. I had been wrestling back and forth with many things, all events that stemmed from my past.

Being in the shower at that moment was no random coincidence. In fact, whenever I need to figure stuff out, or needed peace, I got into the shower, turned on the water, and opened the gates in my brain. At least, that was how I viewed it: the water gushing mingled with the thoughts rushing out of my brain. This time, as I felt the pellets of water drop on my skin, I took in a few deep breaths because feelings of worry were beginning to rise from my gut. These feelings were consequent to the thought on which I had stumbled, and the culprit thought was none other than this: would I make Rick happy for the rest of his life? After all, that was the promise I had written in my vows, but did I have what it took to carry through on that promise? It certainly didn’t feel like I had what it would take to make someone happy forever. I was beginning to panic because I doubted myself, feeling incapable of what I had committed to do. At this moment, I would give anything to have God shower me with confidence, but that wasn’t about to happen. All that fell upon me was water. Resigning to my fate, I began washing away all my concerns and letting them go down the shower drain. I watched the steam build up on the glass along with my concerns, and anxiety started to build up in me. I pondered everything. What if my wedding party showed up late? What if they forgot something like their suits, dresses, or shoes? Maybe my makeup artist would not arrive at all, even though I had confirmed with her that she would be there in time. These thoughts were driving me crazy.

Isaiah 32:17. The fruit of righteousness will be peace; its effect will be quietness and confidence forever.

Nothing is impossible

The shrill sound of my phone ringing at its highest volume brought me out of the shower and away from my crippling negative thoughts. I reluctantly turned the shower off, and as I started to squeegee the shower glass, I saw Rick sitting up at the corner of the bed. I yelled, good morning my soon to be husband in my most annoying voice, and then I asked, Are you excited for today? Of course! he shouted back; in his cute New York accent. I chuckled as I dried myself with a towel. I was moving as fast as I could; I needed to get going. I put on my black maxi dress and slipped on flip flops. I gave Rick the tightest hug and kissed him before leaving; I didn’t want to be all in his face until later that day. I wanted him to miss me, even if only for a few hours. The girls and I headed out and picked up Sarah, my maid of honor. We drove to the salon located at our venue. Our forty-five-minute drive consisted of nonsense talk and laughter, which was intentional. That was how we got along, we could be ourselves, and that made us happy. I said, Imagine if the world could see and hear us both right now, what they would think of us? She said we were just like dumb and dumber which made us burst into another wave of laughter.

Sarah was a successful real estate agent, a Pilates instructor, and a single mother of two. We met at work. She was a new agent at our office, and as soon as we started talking, we instantly clicked. She was funny and down to earth, and a blond bombshell. I knew that if we worked together as partners, we would be dynamic, and we certainly were. She had the kindest heart but would fight like a lion to protect her loved ones. Indeed, Sarah had always been super protective of me. I am filled with nostalgia when I think of how often she pulled Rick aside when she had just met him, investigating his intentions and asking him to take good care of me. During my toughest times, Sarah was one person whom I could always count on to hold my hand, just as she would on the day of my wedding. As we arrived at the venue, I recall feeling so relieved after Sarah took over every detail, from making sure I had something to eat on my plate to keeping everything running on time. All my bridesmaids arrived at the same time, although three out of the five were known for being late. As soon as we opened the door, I was happy to see an amazing and beautiful set up with a variety of colorful fresh fruit, warm breakfast pastries, and refreshing mimosas. No one would complain about being hungry or thirsty for the next several hours. There was plenty of room for all of us because the stylists were ready with multiple booth stations, plenty of counter space to set up, and several mirrors. I was grateful that everyone was getting along like decent humans because the ladies often bickered at one another. The main focus of my bridal party was to ensure I was well taken care of and enjoying every second of my day. We listened to music and sang along. I was feeling at ease about everything; we had plenty of time to get ready, and I had plenty of time to think. As my makeup was being applied and with my eyes shut, all I could think about was Rick. I was dying to see what his reaction would be when he caught a glimpse of me. The thought of it made me giddy with excitement. Every bride wants the groom to have an initial tearful reaction; and I was also hoping for that. I imagined how my dress would look. The dress was essential to Rick, and that may have been why I felt so much pressure. Early on when we first became engaged, I handed him a bridal magazine and asked him to show me the type of dress he would like to see me in. I was curious, and as we flipped through the pages, he pointed to a gown with enthusiasm. When I looked at it, I rolled my eyes and thought Horrendous! I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing a dress like that! The one he picked was puffy and looked like a 1980s senior prom gown. Well, I managed to hold my opinion in, and instead I asked him, Why that one? He replied by saying that he loved it because it looked like a bridal gown and not an evening gown. Instantly, I understood and could relate to why he loved the dress. It wasn’t the actual dress that he liked; he liked the style. He wanted me to look like a bride, which put some pressure on me because I had planned to wear a simple dress that looked more like an evening gown.

Dress number 301

Believe me when I say that my search for a gown was a struggle, disappointingly eventful most of the time. Finding the right wedding gown took two years. I spent countless hours researching online, and through the entire process, I can say that I developed patience. I tried on over three hundred gowns, in many styles and made of many different fabrics. At first, it was fun because it felt like an adventure, but slowly, the process evolved into a never-ending task. Struggles always come big or small, but the dress search was tearing me down physically and emotionally. Nothing made me feel adequate or beautiful. One month shy of the cut off time for ordering a designer gown, I still hadn’t found the right dress. I would be forced to settle for whatever was available if I didn’t find one. I was close to losing hope, but I didn’t. I made it to my last appointment at a bridal boutique. The consultant brought in the last three gowns that matched my wish list criteria. Based on how they looked on the hanger, I was not excited about any of them. I tried two on, and although they were nice, they weren’t the ones I would consider. They didn’t give me the feeling I wanted. As I slipped into the last one, which was on the hanger and had been my least favorite, I became angry and overwhelmed at the same time. It was bulky; it had patches of flattened organza flowers that were not flattering; they were hanging by threads from different brides trying it on. The dress had an oversized distracting shoulder strap on one side that did not impress me. I did not like ninety percent of this dress. I did like the fabric on the body of the dress. I huffed and puffed as I stepped into it, and eventually, I was so turned off that I couldn’t help but burst into tears of frustration, which rolled down my cheeks in quick succession. As the bridal consultant assisted me with tying the back of the dress, she asked if