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Today it has been three years since my life imploded? Exploded? Got blown to hell?

I am still here.

and if that was all I wrote, I feel like it would be enough.

Enough for all my readers who are betrayed spouses themselves.

Just those four words ‘I AM STILL HERE…’

Start up the band, pop the champagne, and can I get a “Whoop, Whoop?!”

I am still here, my friends.

I thought of a dozen different posts, some sad, some a tad angry, and a lot just rambling, because figuring out what I feel today is hard.

Today is hard.

But I think what I have figured out about all this is….drum roll please?

It’s not about what was, it was really awful. Some days I didn’t want to survive it, awful.

Today isn’t about the awful that was.

It is about the person, the people who came out of it. The people who stand here three years later, together, forming a family.

My family.

I am…proud?

Do I wish we had never been tested? Yes, a definite YES.

But we were.

and we passed.

Here we still stand, together.

We have been gossiped about, taken to court, forced to face our demons, and been a favorite target of pathetic people on social media.

and yet here we stand.

I am proud of my family.

of my kids.

Three years later, they are not only surviving but thriving.

My marriage?

Well…. we probably talk more than normal couples, and another thing we have learned?

How to listen. How to hear what the other is saying, when we ourselves can’t find the words. Maybe because we almost lost it all.

Which leads me to share a story I read on Facebook today. I normally don’t stop to read them but I did because, well I was meant to….

A young woman went to her grandmother and told her about her life and how things were so hard for her – her husband had cheated on her and she was devastated. S…he did not know how she was going to make it and wanted to give up. She was tired of fighting and struggling. It seemed as soon as one problem was solved, a new one arose.

Her grandmother took her to the kitchen. She filled three pots with water and placed each on a high fire. Soon the pots came to boil. In the first she placed carrots, in the second she placed eggs, and in the last she placed ground coffee beans. She let them sit and boil; without saying a word.

In about twenty minutes she turned off the burners. She fished the carrots out and placed them in a bowl. She pulled the eggs out and placed them in a bowl. Then she ladled the coffee out and placed it in a bowl.

Turning to her granddaughter, she asked, ‘Tell me what you see.’

‘Carrots, eggs, and coffee,’ she replied.

Her grandmother brought her closer and asked her to feel the carrots. She did and noted that they were soft. The grandmother then asked the granddaughter to take an egg and break it. After pulling off the shell, she observed the hard boiled egg.

Finally, the grandmother asked the granddaughter to sip the coffee. The granddaughter smiled as she tasted its rich aroma. The granddaughter then asked, ‘What does it mean, grandmother?’

Her grandmother explained that each of these objects had faced the same adversity: boiling water. Each reacted differently. The carrot went in strong, hard, and unrelenting. However, after being subjected to the boiling water, it softened and became weak. The egg had been fragile. Its thin outer shell had protected its liquid interior, but after sitting through the boiling water, its inside became hardened. The ground coffee beans were unique, however. After they were in the boiling water, they had changed the water.

“Which are you?” she asked her granddaughter. “When adversity knocks on your door, how do you respond? Are you a carrot, an egg or a coffee bean?

Think of this: Which am I? Am I the carrot that seems strong, but with pain and adversity? Do I wilt and become soft and lose my strength?

Am I the egg that starts with a malleable heart, but changes with the heat? Did I have a fluid spirit, but after a death, a breakup, a financial hardship or some other trial, have I become hardened and stiff? Does my shell look the same, but on the inside am I bitter and tough with a stiff spirit and hardened heart?

Or am I like the coffee bean? The bean actually changes the hot water, the very circumstance that brings the pain.. When the water gets hot, it releases the fragrance and flavor. If you are like the bean, when things are at their worst, you get better and change the situation around you. When the hour is the darkest and trials are their greatest, do you elevate yourself to another level?

How do you handle adversity? Are you a carrot, an egg or a coffee bean?

I am proud to say my family made coffee…

Strong.

Slightly dark.

Sometimes sweet.

Coffee.

and?

We are still here.

‘Loving can hurt
Loving can hurt sometimes
But it’s the only thing that I know
When it gets hard
You know it can get hard sometimes
It is the only thing that makes us feel alive

We keep this love in a photograph
We make these memories for ourselves
Where our eyes are never closing
Hearts are never broken
And time’s forever frozen, still

So you can keep me
Inside the pocket of your ripped jeans
Holding me close until our eyes meet
You won’t ever be alone
Wait for me to come home

Loving can heal
Loving can mend your soul
And it’s the only thing that I know (know)
I swear it will get easier
Remember that with every piece of ya
And it’s the only thing we take with us when we die

We keep this love in this photograph
We make these memories for ourselves
Where our eyes are never closing
Our hearts were never broken
And time’s forever frozen, still

So you can keep me
inside the pocket of your ripped jeans
Holding me close until our eyes meet
You won’t ever be alone
And if you hurt me
That’s okay baby, there ‘ll be worse things
Inside these pages you just hold me
I won’t ever let you go

Wait for me to come home (x4)

Oh, you can keep me
Inside the necklace you got when you were sixteen
Next to your heartbeat where I should be
Keep it deep within your soul

And if you hurt me
Oh, that’s okay baby, only words bleed
Inside these pages you just hold me
And I won’t ever let you go

When I’m away,
I will remember how you kissed me
Under the lamppost back on sixth street
Hearing you whisper through the phone
Wait for me to come home”

-Ed Sheeran-