Learning to put on my pants

On June 18 my husband left for a missions trip. He was gone for a week. On June 28 he moved to Parma, an hour and a half away, to start his new position as a children's pastor. This has been our dream for the past 5 years.
However, what's not part of our original dream was that our housing wouldn't go through in time for the kids and I to go with him. Right now, we are living separately. Personally, I hate it.
The Tuesday after he left for his trip, my kids wanted to spend the night at their grandma's. Let me tell you, I am spoiled. I don't sleep alone in my house, EVER. Letting them stay there while Jeremy was gone was a huge thing to me. I had a melt down. I cried to God, yelled at God, plead with God. My answer: Put on your big girl pants. What I really wanted was for God to send a lightening bolt and fix all of my problems. Instead, he told me to grow up. While it wasn't really the answer I wanted, it has begun a process of growing for me that I wouldn't have had otherwise.
This has become a fun "catch phrase" God and I share. When I'm stressed and want to wine and cry, that is the first thought that comes to mind.
I do have to say that after my fit on that Tuesday night, I was filled with strength and joy that couldn't have come from anywhere but God. He has sustained me and brought me through. I feel a sense of God and his presence more now than I have before.
While I'd rather be with my husband and serving with him, I know that I could not have learned these things without this season.