The year 2018 began with an inauspicious string of break-ups in my social circles. One after the other, one involving my heart, too, left me even more skeptical of love and commitment. I labeled it "Broken Hearts Week" on my digital calendar, and left it to repeat annually, hoping that one year would show a turned tide.
Without naming names, always my challenge here, I will express what I know to be true about the changed situations.
B. met an acquaintance a month after Broken Hearts Week, and they got married in November.
S. still wonders about the person she was so into, and why it never went further. Another relationship rose out of many doubts, then faltered in Broken Hearts Week.
R. has hope. The deep kind of hope that God pours into us, not merely the hope in a romantic interest.
M. and S. are getting a divorce.
H. and M., who had been dating for a few months, have parted ways forever, and M. is now engaged to a wonderful person. H. is off in another country pursuing a certification that is one step closer to her dream.
And I. I am learning about how to love as action, and how to put imperfect trust in a person who is imperfect like I am. I'm learning that relationships can be filled with laughter and growth.
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