The Broken Road

I have not always lived the perfect life. I don't have the perfect past. Who does? I mean get real. This life is about living, messing up, learning from your mistakes, and trying each day to do it better. That's just how it is.

I always tell the Beauties that everyone has a story. Everyone has a journey of some sort. And everyone has "the road that they have traveled." And before I even begin, nobody's road is perfect. Everyones road is flawed, damaged in some way, and broken. If our "roads" were perfectly straight then we wouldn't need God. Our roads are broken, but it's not always a bad thing.

My life has had many ups, and few downs. I know God has blessed me, but I am also aware of when God has taught me. Some people look at mistakes in a bad way. Some people look down upon me for the times when I wasn't at my best. But real people understand that I am human. And when I say real...I mean people that are willing to admit that they are just as broken as everyone else.

I remember when I was 18 like it was yesterday. I moved out, got my own apartment, enrolled in college, joined a sorority and seriously thought I was on top of the world. I was ready to be independent, ready to do my thing, and I had no idea that this world was a whole lot bigger than me. At the time I felt like I could do anything, and I was clueless of what the next few months would look like in my life.

In high school I was a good kid. I obeyed the rules, went to church, movies, and just enjoyed my little group of friends. I never felt the need to get drunk or do the things that the others kids were doing. That just wasn't me. It all changed when I moved out.

Long story short....my memories from those first 6 months of being on my own include...

Waiting tables until 1am trying to make money. Oversleeping through my 8am classes because I had been up all night at sorority parties trying to impress the other girls. Freaking out because me and my roommate could not pay the bills. Staying up all night, sleeping all day. Drinking alcohol. Getting my midterm grades in the mail and seeing D's because I had only made it to a few classes. Not being able to remember the last time I had went to church. Crying, alot, because I was exhausted and had no idea how to get control of my life.

I didn't even know who I was anymore. It had not even been 6 months and my life flipped upside down. It was like I was drowning. Worst feeling ever if you can imagine drowning for just a second here. Every second that passed I felt like I was going deeper underwater. Financially, physically, and spiritually. All areas were suffering. I had no money. I was packing on the weight. And I couldn't even pray because I knew in my heart I was doing wrong. Instead of getting out of the water and getting safe, I continued to tread water.

If you have ever tread water then you know how tiring it is. It never gets easier. Just harder. You just keep going and going and there is no end. That was my life. I was not proud of how I was behaving, and I was not proud of who I was anymore. I was not the same Tanna that everyone knew.

During that time I got a tattoo on my toe and it was of my sorority letters. Once again, trying to impress a bunch of girls. We thought we were so cool that night we got the tattoo. Months later I was out of the sorority, but still had the tattoo on my toe forever. And that was pretty much the beginning of the end. I was rescued from my situation, I have a good family, but I will never forget what those months taught me.

Every day on the first day of school my students would ask my what was on my toe. Every year, it never failed. They couldn't understand the letters because they were greek letters. I would always tell them it said "Delta Zeta," the name of my old sorority.

Deep down I would just laugh. Because I knew what those letters really meant. They meant tears. They represented lessons that I had to learn the hard way. They symbolized the point in my life where I was on the wrong road, but found the right road. They mean "my broken road." As the school year would go on I would slowly share what those letters really meant in my heart. The kids appreciated it because they could relate to it.

I never once taught a lesson where someone didn't ask...."Mrs. Horton, do you regret that time in your life? Do you regret getting that tattoo?"

I never had to think about that answer. No, I didn't regret it. I don't like my tattoo, but I don't regret it. That "tattoo" led me to a new road. A road that would be filled with joy.

Because of my "tattoo", my mom helped me get to a new college which was Ouachita Baptist University. It was expensive, but my family made it possible and I will forever be thankful. My high school best friends were there. Brandon was there. A few years later me and Brandon fell in love there. We got married, and we made this....
How could I ever regret the "road" that led me to that? I think about it all the time. I think about what would my life look like if I had not messed up. What would it look like if I would have never went to Ouachita for college? I do not think I would be where I am today, and that is why I will never regret the broken areas in my road.

Even though I get irritated sometimes when I look down and see my tattoo, I can't help but smile because I know that God was ready to fix my broken pieces. And He did. A lot of times people look at their mistakes so negatively. Instead, I think you should embrace it and allow it to make you better. I was a much better teacher because I had experienced life, and I could connect with the kids. Instead of acting perfect, I used my broken road to teach.

You all know the song by Rascal Flatts, Broken Road. My favorite line in the song is this....

"God bless the broken road that led me straight to you."

I could not have said it better myself. Remember, everyones road is broken. Whether it cracked when you were 10, 15, or even 18 like me...it has happened. Quit hiding from it, and allow God to use it. God can turn ANYTHING into good. He did it for me.... and I wouldn't change a thing.

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