10 Days for 10 years … Day 1

June is kind of a special month for me.
I wasn’t born in June.
I didn’t get married in June.
None of my babies were born in June.
It’s still a special month for me.
Over the next 10 days I’m going to take a little departure from my usual quirky, sarcastic, often cringe worthy posts and invite you all on a little adventure with me. 
I call it: 10 DAYS FOR 10 YEARS.
I know you have no clue what the heck the past 10 years could mean for me. 
It’s been an interesting journey.
Quite a blessing, really. 
I’m a writer. I journal and I save those journals. I’ve written in a journal/diary/memory keeper/ since I was in the 6th grade.  You would be amazed by some of the adventures those pages contain.  Through my memory keeping, I discovered a great sense of faith.  I always believed that my faith would see me through dark times.  I just never really imagined they could be so dark.
I’m a Christian and I believe in God and the journey I hope you’ll take with me over the next 10 days really taps into my faith.
I hope you have the courage to join me…

   DAY 1:
I had a bit of a fairytale wedding.
The oldest and only girl in an Italian family…  
I wore my momma’s wedding dress.
My daddy walked me down the aisle.
All four of my brothers participated.
A wedding party of 14.
A guest list of 400.
I’m sure you can fill in the blanks of awesomeness that my wedding entailed!
You know what? Lemme just show you ….

Little did I know a year later I’d be contemplating divorce and death.
August 14th, 2000
…The only place I find happiness is in romance novels and fictitious men who fight for their women.
And provide for them once they’ve been swept off their feet…
I feel trapped and afraid that this is how life will be.  I feel like a failure contemplating therapy and even worse… divorce.  I’m tired of trying and so close to just giving up.
Lord, what do you want me to do? 
I felt the pea sized lump right where my leg meets my rear end in June or July of 1999.  By August of 2000 the lump had grown from a pea to a golf ball. A day after I wrote the above entry Mark called me at work and said he couldn’t live this way.  I either made an appointment to have the lump removed and biopsied or he wouldn’t be home that night.
I really did contemplate just letting him leave, but my mom said, “Mindy, that’s your husband and he deserves better than that.”  I called and made an appointment for the removal.  The next morning, August 15th, I went to the doctor’s office with my mom and had the bump removed.

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