A Kind of Armageddon

Last night I finally reached the end of the photos. 

For the past two years, I have been working on reorganizing all the photos that I have accumulated in the past 20+ years. I have been taking them out of the albums, labeling the back with names, dates etc...and then filing them in a photo box.  It has been a tough road. In fact, I have only worked on it when I have a couple of days to devote to it because it is a long and time consuming process (thus the two years).   Lo and behold, this past week I had the flu sent from some under-minion of Satan, and my hubby suggested I spend my couch time sorting through the last two albums I had left. Since all I could do was sit, I decided to go for it and THIS time I would finish. And I did.

I have no more albums left and I filed the last picture.  I labeled the last label.  And I wept.  Not with joy over finishing a project; but with sorrow and grief because when I look in my children's photo boxes I see this: 

The significance of that year cannot be over-looked.  It was that year that my marriage ended.  It was that year that my children's family was destroyed and here was the proof of that destruction contained in an insignificant photo box.

As I looked through year after year of photographs, I finally understood what my children had lost.  I always understood intellectually, but I never really understood in my heart.  Last night, right now at this moment...I understand and I cry.  To my children, there is nothing but happy memories in those pictures.  They never knew that saddness and pain in their parent's marriage and that is good.  They could be children and be secure in the knowledge that all was right in the world.  I look at the pictures and I know our marriage was a painful mess, but my kids never knew that.  Not until their Dad sat us all down in the living room in December 2007 and told us he was leaving.  And in that moment...Armageddon for the family they had always known.

I write this blog today because I want you to know that once you have children, your marriage isn't just for you anymore.  It's for them too.  Your marriage is a bedrock foundation on which your children build every belief they have about love, relationships, security and stability.  If you are struggling in your marriage, if you are toying with the thought of leaving, giving up and walking away, I implore you...I beg you...don't.  Stay.  Fight.  Fight for your marriage, fight for your children, fight for their future.  Divorce has devastating and long-lasting consequences and in ways you can't even fathom or imagine.  I know that I never thought I would be putting together photo boxes seven years after my divorce and weeping for my lost family.  That pain just never goes away and I am an adult who went through the divorce....imagine the loss for the children.  For me, I don't have to imagine...I have the evidence of their destroyed family sitting in six photo boxes in my living room. 

Please fight for your marriages.  Please fight for your family.  Just keep trying.  Please. 

Now the Way that it Stands...She's out of My Hands

I am not invited to her graduation anymore.

I am not sure how it happened. This little one who is the single most important female in my life no longer desires for me to attend the greatest accomplishment she has had to date.

Where did she go? My little one who used to walk on her tippy-toes, holding on to my fingers singing songs about Jesus? How can I ever express the sorrow that comes from knowing those days are gone forever and that the light she once had is no longer in her eyes? I weep for that little girl and I weep for the little girl inside this confused and angry young woman who feels so strongly that I have let her down...and I have.

I blame myself. I am the mother. I should have it so together! I should be able to handle all these twists and turns in our relationship with grace, logic and like Jesus would. Instead, I feel hurt, confused, and angry. Not just angry at her, but angry at myself. Angry at the changes I see in her and angry at the helplessness I feel because I cannot fix it or make it better. Angry at myself because I always say the wrong things, or don't say enough. Angry because my attempts to be accepting seem more like lack of interest. Angry because my attempts to give her space seem more like lack of caring. Angry that my silence seems like judgement and my tears seem like condemnation. There is no right answer and no safe place to stand when you are walking such a thin line in a relationship.

I know I have messed up. I am far from perfect. Those first six months after Steve and I divorced was by far the worst time of my life. I lost myself and my way. Thankfully, God brought me back and I was able to escape that time relatively unscathed. Sadly, I don't think my girl was as fortunate. I was selfish. I was so caught up in my own sorrow, grief, and, lets be honest, freedom, that I was not really there for my children when they needed me the most. Of all the mistakes I have ever made as a mother...this is the one that will haunt me. At night, when I lay sleepless in bed, trying to figure out where I went wrong, those six months are lying in wait to indict me: "It's all your fault!"

I have apologized...I have asked for forgiveness from my children and from my God. I have admitted my wrongs and tried to make amends but the truth is, there is nothing more I can do. I cannot go back and undo the divorce. I cannot make her dad want to stay with me. I cannot erase those six months of acting like I was 18 instead of a 35-year old mother of two. I am sorry for those things...only God knows how much.

I have loved being a mother. I wish I could go back for just one minute and smell her baby hair, tousle those beautiful blonde curls and whisper in her sweet neck how much I love her....I wish she believed me as easily today as she did back then. I wish she would wrap her sweet arms around my neck and whisper, "I love you Mommy!" Perhaps one day, but for now, I have the memories and the reassurance from God that He has His hand on her even when I cannot. For the time being, it will have to be enough.