Untangled 3: Deliverance

I didn’t like her name. I didn’t like her hair. I didn’t like her teeth. She had two children, was very athletic, and pro-Black. On her page, she had more of the wedding pictures than he did, he has only the one. He seemed so happy at the wedding and reception, not gonna lie, that stung a little. A part of me could kinda understand why—she ran marathons, and lifted weights just like him. They were the perfect fit couple on paper and probably off, but I wasn’t ready for that conversation.

After scrolling her page for about 15 minutes, I told myself the ugly truth. There was nothing wrong with her. I was feeling slight jealousy because she “won.” But what did she win? That was not my business, and it was no longer my problem. The reality is he came to see me because he was deciding between the two of us, and he chose her.. she won him. She probably didn’t even know I existed. She wasn’t my problem.. it was my own disobedience and willingness to settle. 

I was suddenly ashamed of my thoughts. I was ashamed of myself for being all on this girls page. I wanted to forget he ever existed. So, in a moment of clarity with a tinge of rage, I blocked him. I deleted his contact from my phone. I deleted every picture that would remind me of the time we spent together. After all he now belonged to her, she was his girl Friday. I allowed myself to cry again. I laid on my couch, stared at the ceiling, and cried out to God. I was tired of crying. I didn’t know the human body held so many tears. I needed to be whole. I wanted to go back to who I was before I knew he existed. 

Two hours later, an acquaintance who happened to be a prophet texted out of the blue and asked if she could borrow a purse. I told her to come by when she got off work. She was at my door a couple of hours later. I needed to hold it together long enough to hand her the purse and go back to my private pity party. To my surprise, she came in and sat down. I was slightly irritated because I didn’t want any company and I didn’t want to be cordial. I wanted her to go, so I didn’t say much, made no eye contact and kept everything surface-level. 

After about 10 minutes, she said, “Well, okay, I’d better head on out.” She stood to leave, then turned to me and said, “I’m here to pray for you.” I broke down. I didn’t want her to know my business. I didn’t expect God to answer that quickly. Between sobs, I gave her the cliff-note version of my sad tale. She said she didn’t need to hear it—God knows and told her to come. The purse was an excuse to get in.

She grabbed my hands and started praying for me. Within five minutes, I was screaming on the floor. Then I had to vomit, so I ran to the bathroom. When I came out, she said, “That’s not it,” and prayed a little longer. There was a lull and then a quiet peace. My mind was empty. He was no longer running through it with his new fit wife. The thoughts, the sorrow, the self-pity—they were all gone. I had been delivered.