• ELIXHER
• On March 24, 2014

By Aleia Mims

On July 7, 2007, I made a commitment before God, family, and friends to love the woman beside me as my wife and partner in life. She was the one who stood beside me during my lowest periods in life—my grandfather’s death, difficulties in my career, and several miscarriages. We welcomed a baby girl in the world two years later, and I believed in “forever and ever, until death do us part, amen.”

Lots of people questioned, “What happened? What did she do? What did you do?” How could I explain instinct and destiny and purpose and authenticity and integrity?

What I know now that I didn’t know then was that love and marriage is more than being a hero in difficult times. It is about supporting each other to be our best, about being a cheerleader, and about creating a safe, sacred, intimate place with the other. It’s about the everyday love and commitment and honor. I can now say that neither one of us had any idea about what that kind of commitment was supposed to look like, so we did what under-developed people do. We tore each other apart and dismantled our own dignity shred by shred until the trust was eroded and there was no foundation left. After 5 years of marriage (and a renewal of vows), I decided to walk away from my marriage and the family we created.

With change comes grief. This past year has been one of tremendous grief for me. Though I initiated my divorce, my heart has mourned with what could have been, the pain of the hope that once was, and the remembrance of what used to be. I was tormented for a long time because my soul and spirit knew that the change was necessary, but it hurt because it meant I had to unlatch from someone I loved. Lots of people questioned, “What happened? What did she do? What did you do?” How could I explain instinct and destiny and purpose and authenticity and integrity? How could I knowingly walk into the most pain I’ve ever experienced – more painful than rejection, more painful than infertility, more painful than pregnancy loss – and still be committed to this path without clear light posts? In our days of intelligence and logic, telling someone that I was following my instinct and trusting God to order my steps doesn’t suffice with most.

But I did. I took baby steps first in writing, then in voice, and then in action, and I saw each synchronous moment and opportunity as God’s confirmation. Happenstance and indiscretion forced me to tell the truth that I didn’t want to be married anymore. Shit and furniture hit the proverbial fan. I had no plan, no clear words, no salve for wounds. I simply leaped when the heat of the fire became too much. In the middle of recounting the story of asking for a divorce to a dear friend, a call came from my previous state offering a job for which I hadn’t applied. A job that was my dream since I was fourteen. Yes, God can act just like that.

Still, none of that was without pain and without grief. I mourned throughout the separation and for a long time after the divorce was final. To be the cause of so much pain is a difficult cross to bear, but one I couldn’t avoid or drink away. That mourning was necessary because it taught me to listen and honor the truth of who I am. Even when I couldn’t stand to cry another tear or when I felt the brine of condemnation and bore the weight of guilt, I knew I had to walk through this process and accept it in order to get to the other side.

Sirens are tricky though. Their songs keep you going when you need it the most, but if you’re not careful, that same song will lead you to death.

About 2-3 days later in real life, someone reached out to me in the same exact way it happened in my dream. It felt like a test of sorts.

The other night I had this dream. Dreams are part of my spiritual gifts because many times they have come true in my waking life. The details of the dream are a bit too personal to share, but it showed me returning to my previous life with a few adjustments and dangling carrots. In my dream, I considered the opportunity but then towards the end, I started screaming that I didn’t want it. I woke up and told a few people because I couldn’t quite get where that dream was leading. My girlfriend said, “You aren’t going to return to your wilderness so don’t worry.” About 2-3 days later in real life, someone reached out to me in the same exact way it happened in my dream. It felt like a test of sorts and I knew that’s all it was. It was still alluring. I left it to God to sort out.

The next week, I streamed church online and the sermon revealed to me exactly what I needed to remember. I was brought to my knees as Bishop Jakes preached about Elisha running from the life that was laid out for him in order to pursue his destiny. In the biblical story, the prophet Elijah crosses paths with Elisha, allows him to wear his sacred pastoral robes for a moment (previewing Elisha’s destiny), thus prompting Elisha to leave his oxen and fields and follow the prophet. When Elijah questions Elisha and tells him to go home, Elisha kills his herd so that he doesn’t have anything to return to and vows to follow Elijah and his destiny, going on to become an even greater prophet himself.

I don’t dare imply that I will be a spiritual “great,” but my pastor’s words reminded me that God has a purpose for me. I only need to keep taking those steps forward and not be lured by the siren of yesterday. “Finding your destiny will always disappoint people who had appointed you to theirs,” Bishop Jakes preached that morning. “If your destiny was in the wilderness, God wouldn’t have closed the Red Sea that He parted for you to cross.”

“Familiar is the antithesis to faith. You cannot be who you were and you are at the same time. Revelation will always bring you to separation,” he continued. “You learn in the process what you will need to manage the process.”

Today, I am giving notice that I am done crying about the wilderness. I will stop up my ears to the siren’s song of grief. Going backwards doesn’t allow me to move forward into my destiny where abundance and truth and purpose lie. Today, I sing my grandmother’s song: “Order my steps in your word dear Lord. Lead me, guide me, every day. Send your anointing Father I pray. Order my steps in your word.”

Aleia Mims is a mother, daughter, sister, and friend for whom writing is a form of liberation. She shares her journey so that others may name their own experiences and realize their higher truths. Her commitment to self-empowerment was a key feature of her eleven years as a classroom teacher, and remain as such with her current work at an education non-profit in New York City.

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