The shame game

Imagine the bacteria.

I was ashamed, He called me beautiful...now I'm Yours, You call me beautiful. -  Forever and a Day

_____________________

Here's something that's outrageously pitiful to admit (and probably reason why I'm single #192), I often lay down at night and my mind won't stop producing clever status updates.  It's obnoxious.  Sometimes, i just can't turn off the jokes.  The wheels in my heard are constantly spinning.  Unfortunately, the short term memory wheels are a little rusty these days.  They're pretty much, wait...what?

I also often think of what people think of me.  "What?", you say?  "The girl that feels the need to stick her head under high-powered hand dryers just for laughs...she cares what people think?"  I do.  And I think of what it is they're thinking.  Most of which they're probably not thinking at all, but in my head they are. And then I stress.

As an example of the absurdity, here's what it's like to be inside my head sometimes:

Jane Doe:  Hi Sarah, <insert ever awkward side hug here> where are the midget wrestlers?

Me:  "Heyyyy girl (cause I always have to say that)...they're with their dad today."

My brain:  Good one.  She's probably going to think you had them out of wedlock or something. Maybe you should say "ex-husband" next time.  Oh, but ex-husband sounds so...bitter.  She'll probably think you're some bitter divorcee, on the prowl for a new man, probably her husband.  Great.  

I often play this game with myself.  I'm sometimes embarrassed when people see me out in public, wrangling in two wild animals (children), with no wedding band on.  Oh, it's not so bad when the midget wrestlers are behaving like angels, but that happens (way) less often than I'd care to admit.  I feel like people eye my ring finger and think "tssk, tssk, tssk".

When I first started going to my new church, I was a little embarrassed by my marital status, or lack thereof.  No one there knew my story.  Many still don't.  Its not like you want to sign your kids into Sunday school, and promptly announce the reason for your divorce. It's not cool. And it's not necessary. Oh, but it's tempting.

You see, I thought I did everything right. Dated for two years. Went through pre-marital classes.  Took personality tests to analyze our compatibility. Got my dad's approval.  Got my pastor's approval.  Married in church.  Waited two years before babies.  Yet still, it all blew up in my face. And I think "how did I not see it?!" And then I feel stupid.  And ashamed.

I sometimes feel the need to justify myself.  Justify the divorce.  Explain that I waited over two years before I even went through with it. Explain his unwillingness to change. Explain the fact that I called my pastor in NY to get some counsel about it.  Explain how difficult asking my ex to move out was for me.  And a million other things I dealt with during that time (none of which are blog-appropriate).

During those times though, I often call that familiar verse to mind:  "Do not be afraid; you will not suffer shame.  Do not fear disgrace; you will not be humiliated... (Is. 54)".  

I have felt shame. And I most definitely have been humiliated.  Those times were moments though, not a state of being.  Not caused by my decisions.  And not who I am.  I know that I know that God and I have dealt with this.  I know that, to the very end, I honored my commitment to God and to my spouse.  I know that I received Godly counsel from my pastor in NY (which was a godsend, love you PJR and Evelyn!) and that it meant more to me than they'll ever know.  I know that the few friends I love and and respect and trust more than anyone in the world supported me.  God doesn't condemn me, so why do I feel like if others do, it matters? More over, why do I feel I condemn myself?  

Instead of lending myself to those feelings, I want to let my life speak in the here and now.  I can have joy. I can have peace. I can attempt to raise normal human beings.  I can speak to others going through similar situations, telling them there is a light at the end of the long, dark tunnel.  I can live without shame, leaving the past where it is, but appreciating all it has given to my present and future.

Redemption (and the book you NEED to read)

I know it's been, um, forever since my last post!  Life is crazy and full of school, report cards, birthday parties, book fairs, school lunches and a very active social life...and that's just my kids. As for me, you can find me on any given Friday night in front of an episode of Dateline.  Lucky me.  Anyway,  I promise I have a few coming down the pike very soon!  


Now, if you are a single mom and have a pulse, you NEED to read this book:  My Single Mom Life by Angela Thomas.  Buy it...now. It's $6.00 new on Amazon...you'll live (maybe) if you give up two cups of Starbucks to buy this book.

Ok, done?  Great.

So, when my ex-husband first left and I was in an unbelievably confused and stressful emotional state, my friend, who had been through a similar situation, recommended this book (big shout out to my fellow Queens girl, Rachel!).  It sounds a little crazy now, but when it first happened I was so worried about my kids.  Although I still worry about them, my worries are a little more rational now.  Back then, all I could do was picture them as adults on an episode of Intervention, sticking a needle in their arm and explaining, through high-induced drooping eyelids, that this all started when their parents divorced.  I've since learned that, although divorce is never what you want for your children, God is bigger than anything this world will throw their way! They are safe in His arms.  

Okay, Im going off on a tangent here...bear with me! As I was saying, I love this book so much that I have read and reread it numerous times.  Sometimes I read the entire book, sometimes just chapters at a time.  Today I picked it up and although  I had highlighted this portion before, it really blew me away today.  I believe it's because I am now 2 1/2 years away from what was probably the worst day of my life.  I am looking at it from this perspective now, instead of being inside it. I know I've made it out of things I'd never thought I'd make it through.  So, hold on to your hat and read this:

Making a trade (page 26)

Redemption is when you bring something of little value or which has become a liability, and an exchange is made for something better. You trade in wounds and consequences for astounding, lovely blessings, in spite of the negative, or maybe because of it. In the fullness of redemption, brokenness is mended by love. Aimless wandering becomes satisfied, visionary living. Lies are traded for truth. Mourning becomes dancing. A million broken pieces are rearranged into a vibrant, intact, beyond-your-wildest-dreams journey.

That kind of redeeming trade has happened for me.  And the exchange just keeps on going.  The One who is making the trade, the Redeemer, is the One I call Perfect Love, God, the only One who can turn broken into beautiful.  Apart from his faithfulness to me, there would never have been redemption.  I am convinced that His mercy is the means by which my life began again.  Without His precious love, I'm sure I'd be in an unmarked cave somewhere, probably all moldy by now and nearly blind from squinting in the dark.  Instead, I am incredibly grateful that God wouldn't let that happen, even to a woman like me.  And what He has done for me, He is ready to do for you.

He redeemed my soul from going down to the pit, and I will live to enjoy the light  - Job 33:28

Good, right?! I told you.  Oh, by the way, you should really buy the book.

Reading through it, again and again, made me focus on the ways I have experienced redemption in the past two years.

• I used to cry every.single.day.  Now, I don't! Speaking of, do you ever cry at those new Fisher-Price Christmas commercials?? No? Me neither.
• I'm not constantly consumed by who, what, when, where and why.  When everything first happened, I was completely obsessed with finding out the truth.  I never found out too much.   These days, I have learned to be okay with the fact that I won't ever know everything.  And that's okay.  Actually, I don't think I WANT to know much more.  Each little piece of information tears out a piece of your heart, and I've learned the hard way that the knowledge isn't worth the price.
• The peace I have now is something I felt was completely out of reach for me.  
• I'm getting a little wiser.  Wisdom is something I've really been trying to pursue recently. I've been reading the book of Proverbs and making a conscious effort to KNOW wisdom.  Proverbs 2:10-11 says "For wisdom will enter your heart, and knowledge will be pleasant to your soul.  Discretion will protect you, and understanding will guard you."  Homegirl, I don't know about you, but I want my soul to be pleasant and I want my little family to be protected and guarded by wisdom. As a single mom, you need LOTS of wisdom. I'm definitely not a expert on wisdom...I let my son bring a water gun into the bathtub the other night. NOT wise.  However, I'm pursuing it and I know God has redeemed my worry for His wisdom.  What a bargain! 
• My kids have survived thus far...and are happy and healthy.
• I have survived my kids.  
• I have had numerous people approach me with difficulties they are experiencing in their marriage. I have been able to offer them words of advice and pass on a little bit of the hope I have acquired in the past few years.  I remember how a few friends were my LIFELINE back then, and I am happy to be someone else's.

I can think of a hundred more, but I don't want to bore you. I want to know from you now!  Look back on your life. In what ways have you been redeemed?  Even if you dont want to share in a public forum, I encourage you to write them down.  I promise you that you will be so encouraged!

Explaining the unexplainable



My "favorite" son



Proverbs 24:14
Know also that wisdom is sweet to your soul; if you find it, there is a future hope for you, and your hope will not be cut off.

My firstborn, Josiah, is the sweetest little guy.  He has such a soft heart and as a baby he'd often cry when my sister sang him lullabies.  Sometimes, when he laughs so hard that he cries, he often ends up actually crying...it's hilarious to watch.  Josiah was only 3 1/2 when his dad left, but he remembers him living here.  He doesn't remember much of the tension that was in the house at that time (or he doesn't mention it) but I know he felt it back then. 

After their dad left, I had no idea how to explain it to my children.  My daughter was only 18 months so I couldnt really tell her much, but I knew Josiah needed an age-appropriate explanation.  At the time, I just held him over with short answers and at times, changed the subject. I just didn't know what to say.  He was still seeing his dad regularly, but I knew one day I'd have to explain the situation in a little more detail.

One night when he was about 4, we were driving home and out of nowhere, Josiah burst into tears.  "I miss my daddy!"  Without knowing how to handle it, and without being able to comfort him while driving, I just kept saying "its okay, Josiah...its okay to miss daddy."  By the time we got home, he had already stopped crying but I knew his little heart was still aching.  For a second I considered putting on a cartoon, reading a book, playing a game; anything to take his mind off of it and to save me from having to explain the unexplainable.  However, I knew I had to confront the issue.  How do you explain divorce to a child? I could barely wrap my mind around the questions of "why?" so how was I to explain the unexplainable to a preschooler?

I went up to his room and sat him down. I quickly asked (begged) God for wisdom, hugged him and told him one thing:  "it's okay to be sad".  He looked at me as if to say "Really?!"

As moms (or dads), we want the best for our children.  Unfortunately, its impossible to go throughout this life and not experience pain.  The important lesson I'm trying to teach my children (and trying to learn myself) is to allow themselves to feel the pain and embrace the lessons they're going to learn from that time.  I feel bad for them often. I hate that they're hurting.  I hate not being able to protect them from that hurt. I hate that they don't get to experience a "normal" family (whatever that is these days).  I hate that they may one day experience the issues that having stepmom or stepdad may bring. I hate having to explain someone else's bad decisions to them.  I do know one thing, though...this will not define them.  I never want the term "divorce" to be a crutch to them throughout their lives. 

Yes, its unfair.  However, if handled wisely, hard times can often bring about stronger people.  Even if this never would have happened, difficult times would have still come knocking at their door at one time or another.  I hope that, through this situation, they will gain great wisdom.  I hope my son will learn to honor and treasure his future wife.  I hope my daughter learns to choose her mate wisely, and isn't led astray because she is looking for love in all the wrong places. I pray that they value marriage, even if they don't marry.  Most of all, I pray that they are confident in their future knowing God walks alongside of them, in the good times and the bad.

How do you deal with your child's hurt, whether divorce related or not? 

Mourning the loss

Psalm 71:20-21
²⁰ Though you have made me see troubles, many and bitter, you will restore my life again;
from the depths of the earth
   you will again bring me up.
²¹ You will increase my honor
   and comfort me once again.
 

It has rained at almost every funeral I've ever been to.  I was only seven years old at the time, but I can still remember the day of my mother's burial.  My mind can still picture being inside the black limousine, watching the rain fall in sheets outside the window.  There was a dark grey sky and a cold chill in the air.  Depressing, and rightfully so, because my mother was only 38 years old.  She was a wonderful, godly woman and loved by all those around her.  My sister and I were only five and seven.  It wasn't fair. No mother should miss out on raising her children and no child should miss out on having their mother around. 

The day my divorce was to be finalized, I woke up to another dark grey sky, the ground wet from rain.  The day was almost full of torrential downpours and powerful thunderstorms.  After an over ten day stretch of sweltering hot weather, I'm sure many people were happy to see the rain. I wasn't one of them.  I figured a little sunshine would've made the day more bearable.  I wasn't surprised by the rain though, since today was the day I was to face the burial of my marriage and all that came along with it; hopes, dreams, promises, lies, hurt, betrayal, etc.

The day I got the first legal papers, a few months prior, was harder than I thought.  Something about seeing my childrens' names on a legal document broke my heart.  "It wasn't supposed to be this way" I thought to myself.  On this day, however, I didn't have to go to court to sign anything.  I didn't have to face my ex-husband who, at one time, promised to love, honor and be faithful to me.  I didn't have to walk into a courthouse and watch a judge take two seconds to sign away almost eight years of my life; both happy times and sad times. I wasn't going to hear the truth about things that were and are kept secret.  I wasn't going to get any answers to the countless questions I had.

The only way I could describe my feelings that day would be to compare it what I think it would be like to have a terminally sick relative.  You know they are sick and you know their final breath is imminent, but its hard to wrap your mind around the actual threat.  Somewhere, deep inside, you hold out hope.  The day they actually die, there is considerable sadness but there is also some relief.  That's how I felt that day.  Over two years went by between the separation and divorce.  In a lot of ways, I knew that the marriage was beyond help and I already felt divorced in a lot of ways.  Still, the nonchalant email I received from my lawyer's paralegal sealed its fate:

"Dear Mrs. Xxxxx,

I just wanted to let you know that your divorce has been finalized and I have mailed a copy out to you.

Thanks and have a good weekend."

(To which my sarcastic little mind replied, "Oh, you too!")

That day, I had to make a decision in my heart to once again grieve the loss. This time it was final.  Like an actual death, there was some sadness and then there was a small sense of closure.  That chapter of my life was now over.  I could finally exhale.

Just because I have mourned and buried this part of my life doesn't mean I won't ever feel sadness again.  Just like I still cry for my mom sometimes, my kids and I will cry over this.  As sure as I know my future holds some sadness, I also know it holds good things!  Hard times and happy times are on the horizon for my kids and I, and we are not staying at the cemetery!

You reap what you sow

Whose kid is that?

Those who sow in tears will reap with songs of joy. - Psalm 126:5

This picture always makes me laugh inside.  It was Thanksgiving day and all was right with the world, except that Ella left her other stuffed animal inside the house and I wouldn't let her go back in to retrieve it.  Mean mom, I know...but one incessantly barking stuffed animal with freakishly long lasting batteries is about as much as I can take!

I have often felt the way Ella looks in this picture.  I was never a person who cried easily, but now I'm one of those girls who cries at Disney movies and baby commercials. I do have things to cry about, some significant and some insignificant.  Crying when I hear my son talking to his friend about how his daddy doesn't live with us?  Significant.  Crying because I'm PMS'ing and can't find a cheeseburger joint when I really, really, really want a cheeseburger?  Insignificant. (I wish I was joking.)

The verse above was written in my journal and dated July 24, 2009...only six weeks after my husband had left.  I spent every day consistently on the verge of tears.  I was so concerned over how all of it was going to affect my children. I worried about their future, my health, what people thought, finances, etc.  On this day in particular, I was looking for hope past the tears.  I longed for the day when the happy moments outnumbered the sad ones.  I found this verse and wrote it in my journal, anticipating the day when the harvest of joy would be reaped.

I didn't really read all the words to this verse.  All my mind saw was "tears" and "joy".  At the time I thought in my mind "sad now, happy later". However, "sowing" involves labor.  Forgive me for knowing close to nada about sowing, but I was raised in New York City aka the concrete jungle...there are no farmers to be found.  I can, however, imagine that sowing seeds must be backbreaking work.  You have to do whatever is required to make sure the ground is fertile, then you have to bend over and get the seeds from whatever you hold them in and scatter them across the ground across miles of acreage.  Then you have to wait.  If you do it all correctly, you gather up the bountiful harvest you have worked for. 

I was listening to a sermon over the weekend where the guest speaker spoke from Mark 4, referring to the four types of sowers.  My pastor made the point that, if you do the math, 75% of those sowers won't bear fruit.  That got me thinking about this verse again and I saw it a little bit clearer.  A lot of people use the phrase "you reap what you sow" with a negative connotation.  However, I think there can be a very positive harvest, if you sow the right thing.    What am I sowing into my life through my tears?  Am I sowing disappointment? Discouragement?  Bitterness?  Failure?  Am I resigning myself to the idea that my kids are virtually screwed because they now come from a broken home?  Believe me, at one point or another I have done all of these and on occasion, still do. Sowing things like that will reap me nothing of value. Instead, I'm now making a conscious effort to sow hope, love, peace, laughter, happiness, faith, humor, gentleness, discipline and other virtues into my life, the lives of my children and those around me.  Anyone who is around me knows I am not 100% succeeding in this area yet, not even close.  I am making the effort though, and I can see joy now and on the horizon!

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Crying is all right in its own way while it lasts. But you have to stop sooner or later, and then you still have to decide what to do." - CS Lewis