As she rounded the corner of the track, the final 400 in her mile long race, she saw it. A cool chill went over her body, which was curious considering what sat before her was as familiar as her own stride. It was familiar, yet out of step with time. That dark green sedan should not be at the school to pick her up from track practice. Her father never did the carpool, a task left for mothers and older friends.
In a feeling one can only compare to receiving a startling 2am phone call, she immediately knew something was awry.
Her nerves were stifling while her father diplomatically dropped off each of her tweenage friends at their door. “Have a great evening, Jennifer!”, “Good job, Jessica”. Such niceties punctuating time, her father pretending this behavior was his norm.
When they finally arrived home at nearly 7pm, her mother met them at the door. “Why don’t you and your dad go out to dinner?”
On a school night? But, I have homework.
Still, her father persisted and after an awkward shuffle (to match the tone of the rest of the evening) they retraced their path to the car and ambled slowly to the neighborhood chain restaurant. By the time they secured a booth, her ears were ringing and it was as if the rest of the world had fallen away.
In a moment of either divine grace or profound disfavor, a thought came to her mind. It was not her own. This sense did not match any of her life experiences. There were no overt precursors, no loud arguments, no violence, no dissonance that a 12 year old could detect. But, that is the complexity of relationship, isn’t it?
A half-beat before his admission, she already knew.
“Your mother and I have decided to get a divorce.”
{ 59 comments… read them below or add one }
My parents told me that they were getting a divorce when I was 8 years old. I had absolutely no idea it was coming.
Before they told me I had been up the street gleefully rollerskating with my best friend. The sun had set and we couldn’t even really see each other, we were just these shadows going up and down the sidewalk.
Then I went inside my house. The happy, optimistic girl in the rollerskates went away and never came back. She was a smart one.
This is why, Kat, you need to be writing a blog. You are a natural writer. Your words just choked me up. I love you and I want to go hug that little 8 year old girl and tell her she’s not alone. And also? I would TOTALLY rollerskate with you!
unsullied and unconcerned, that was the girl before the news.
afraid to rock the boat, afraid to disappoint, afraid to cause more separation…that was the girl left in the wake.
maybe the old me and the old you are rollerskating together somewhere–teeming in and out of the shadows. at some point, though, you always have to go home.
Tiny Twig, I’m sitting at my desk at work holding back the tears, because YES, YES, this is the perfect description of what and who I am.
I want to hold you, Kat. And you, Twig. xoxox.
Tiny Twig: what a beautifully heartbreaking story. Is it true, then, that a child carries the heartbreak of divorce all the way into her adulthood?
I think I still carry that brokenness. It is quiet and underneath the surface sometimes–and then rushes to the top at others. It is strange the moments that pique those feelings of loss. In any case, a family still continues–but it is fractured–and that continues no matter how long ago the decision was made. Holidays, births, deaths, regular days…all different than originally planned or dreamed.
That is 100% true. And yet all of the divorce recovery seems to be for the adults going through the process…the ones who are making the decisions.
No one sees the child left behind with the lies filling their minds. As a mom of over 23 years I couldn’t see the things that my actions and words had spoken to my children. I was in my own world trying to heal from my own lies. It’s all so unfortunate that no one sees the child. I’m so sorry, Melissa…
Sad story well told, Tiny. I love this: “In a moment of either divine grace or profound disfavor . . .”
So glad to have found A Deeper Story through your blog. I’m sensing there is much to discover here.
@KatR Beautiful imagery.
It is still a sad story to me, too. I still long to go back there and sweep my tween self up–tell her to keep running and not look back…maybe then she could prevent the inevitable. Although, I guess that’s indicative of the way that the divorce affected me.
::Maybe, if I do just the right thing all. the. time. then, nothing will ever fall apart::
I am still trying to get over that lie.
Maybe, if I do just the right thing all. the. time. then, nothing will ever fall apart:
***
I get that line! I have lived that line! I struggle to walk away from that lie too!
I get it, too…but it still fell apart. Still trying to pick up the pieces…but don’t know how one puts together a puzzle with over a million, shattered pieces. Three little lives hang in the balance…if I do everything right, nothing will fall apart…what do you do when it already has?
Children reason through the mind of a child and then they believe somehow it’s their fault. To this day my oldest still thinks that when her father and I have a rough conversation somehow it’s her fault. It’s not her fault AT ALL! It’s our two fleshes colliding. Sometimes we’ve had to battle out the two fleshly ways to find the Spirit in the midst. It’s hard and often very messy.
No matter what you did how much right you did you could not have prevented things from falling apart. It had absolutely nothing to do with you. Two people just gave up on finding the Spirit of God in their midst. They took the easy road…THEY gave up.
It didn’t have to be this way, but it was. But God was there… in the mix of it all, pursuing you. Do you see Him there? What do you hear Him saying to you?
Interesting thought….He did the right thing all the time… and the whole world fell apart.
It breaks my heart to see your pain. I want to take that 12 year old little girl and tell her the truth.
Julie
Addendum…. I mentioned that to this day my oldest still thinks when we have a rough conversation it’s her fault. I’ve told her time and time again that it’s not her fault… but the problem is what she feels and tells herself. The power of the lie is broken when we tell ourselves the truth. As long as she tells herself it’s her fault, the lie has it’s power.
Julie-do you really believe they gave up? Really? I don’t know that anyone can know how hard any one person or couple tries to maintain or restore brokeness…as someone trying to restore her own marriage, I can tell you not a day goes by that I don’t seek out God and pray for him to change my heart. Everyday hurts. Some days I can handle it. Others…well, I exist moment to moment. But I see the pain in my kids’ eyes NOW…this hurts them, too. I don’t want them to hurt, but I don’t know how to fix what’s broken. I just don’t know, so I wait. And I pray. And I love my kids with everything I have. It’s all I can do.
Cindy, my heart hurts for you, too. It is certainly NOT just the children who are affected by a fractured or strained relationship. I have not been in your shoes, and I certainly don’t make any assumptions about the pain that can be inflicted by pointed words from spouse to spouse. I can imagine that is horrible in it’s own brand of horrible. Do know that even if they are wounded, your children will not be irreparably broken by the strain in your relationship. God has been faithful to use even the hard things in life for my good. Thanks for engaging here, Cindy. Your voice adds a lot to the conversation. xo.
I’m sorry, Cindy, I did not mean to offend you. I didn’t mean it the way it sounded. I’m sorry. . Please forgive me. I do truly understand how difficult it is to maintain and restore brokenness. I’ve experienced it in my own marriage, and in my own childhood. My father had an affair when I was 19 years old. When we all found out we found out he was in love with the woman. He walked away for a time. God did something miraculous in him while he was gone…eventually he came back to my mother. Healing the brokenness wasn’t easy. But God did it. My husband walked away from our marriage for a season. It was horrible. He came back and God began the healing work. It was tough. I understand the pain of a broken heart desiring wholeness, I really do. I’m sorry my words didn’t speak that. My focus was on the hurting little girl who thought if she had just lived perfectly her parents would be together. Again, please forgive me.
Julie–so forgiven…I’m sorry if I seemed angry. So not angry, it’s such a sensitive topic. The stories I read here absolutely crucify my heart…it’s been almost a year of brokeness for us…actually more, for me. Through it all, my heart has been for my babies. They’re what have kept me home, in spite of every other fiber in my body and soul wanting to run far, far away. Those kids are my reason…so I can receive the pain of the children…I just pray that when the dust settles, they know they are loved so completely, not only by their parents, but by their Father. Thanks for your words…
Cindy,
Thank you for your forgiveness. I pray that the only One who can hold you will hold you tightly. I pray that you hear His words of love and delight spoken over you daily, hourly, moment by moment. I know He has your children and their stories held tightly in His hand. I know He will hold them close and tell them of His great love for them. I know He will move heaven and earth until they know how deeply they are loved. May He comfort you as only He can.. I’m sorry for your heartache. I know He is too. He loves you so!
I experienced a divorce last year – we’re still realing, and I have three precious little souls who also experience the abandonment. I pray almost everyday that GOD will fill the cracks and questions in their hearts, that their pain will draw them closer to Him and they won’t push Him away.
There are no easy answers, and I ceratainly don’t know the “end” of our story, but I am 100% sure that God is with us in the difficult places. He has used the very fracture of our family to bring light to the lies and brokenness in my own life.
It terrifies me that my children will have this wound – still, even if their world was perfect, they need God. There is no way to parent away their need of a Savior. We live in a fallen world and so very much of our experience is not what God originally intended. He can redeem it!
Missy June–
Your words were beautiful. You are right, no one can parent away the need for a Savior…and if as parents we lead our children to believe that we can…then shame on us.
Just responding to your other comments…I love that you told your children together. It would instill sibling support, I would imagine. I think more than anything your love for the Lord will be apparent to your children–and they will know of HIS love for them.
That is a familiar story. My parents kept me home from school (and ruined my perfect attendance record that I had worked so hard for) and I was ticked. My mom hadn’t been living at home for a year as it was, so it was no surprise. At that point, I’d already hardened myself from anymore pain so I acted as if I didn’t really care. I remember watching “The Fly” and then them telling us. It was like we were going to have this special family day, only to have it blown away by the news.
Great story. Sadly, a truth so many of us have faced as kids.
Blessings,
Mel
Please feel free to stop by: Trailing After God
I know, I felt like a lot of what my parents chose during that time was an intrusion on my childhood. I now know the complexities of adulthood, but I can’t help but still sting for that 12 year old girl.
What a beautiful and brave story. Thank you for sharing your story.
Thanks for the encouragement. It’s a weird story to tell because it’s (sadly) so almost-universal…yet, at the same time, it’s so integral to who I’ve become. And the craziness, these 300-ish words are just the first 2 hours of the following decade and beyond.
friend: thank you for sharing your story.
i’m feeling gut-wrenching pain and sadness after reading it, but also i’m so amazed at how God has shaped you into a such beautiful wife and mother with a heart for him.
thanks for your encouragement, sweet friend. i think that God certainly used this for my good–although, I still grapple with the consequences of the decision.
you are absolutely brave. thanks for your vulnerability.
thanks, grace. thank YOU for YOUR grace.
I don’t think it’s much easier at 22 either. For the last 6 months, I’ve been living this new, uncomfortable story. Hugs to you.
i don’t think there is an age where it is easier. hugs to YOU.
My parents are still married after 35 years but there are still scars that run deep in my family from my grandparents divorce. It all happened before I was born , but I could feel the tension that still existed and wondered, “what the heck is going on?”
It is strange how when a marriage is fractured there is fallout for generations. I think it is also particularly difficult to comprehend as a child–because you are just unequipped emotionally to understand the nuances of adult interactions. Thanks for sharing your story, Melissa.
My parents divorced when I was in second grade. I really can’t tell you the last time I thought about it. So long ago, and so surreal. I was drawing Smurfs on the driveway when my mom called me over to our concrete porch and told me she was leaving. I remember not fully understanding, but I knowing something was wrong in our house.
Thanks for sharing your story and memory.
Thanks for sharing YOUR story. Amazing the level of detail you remember when a moment draws a line in the sand of your life.
My home life from birth to 9 was a typical preachers house. Always at church, or enjoying a Sunday roast for lunch. My mom was a mom to myself and my 2 brothers. My dad, always with the Bible in his face. No memory of affection or fighting. Just a good church family. You know. Perfect.
Moving day was postponed. I had gotten very sick. I still don’t eat K.F.C. But when it finally came time, there was lots of commotion going on. Except for in my parent’s room. My dad was sitting at his desk, as usual. Reading his Bible, as usual. And my cute, little, daddy’s girl self went in and said, “Daddy, aren’t you going to start packing your things?”
“No, he replied, I will be keeping this place here as my study.”
In my innocence and ignorance, I believed him and off I went to be a helper to my mommy.
Hours later, my mom, brothers and I are pulling into a parking lot (grocery store maybe??) and as we are walking in I ask, “What time will daddy be home tonight?” You know, in that sweet kind of way only a 9 year old can ask. We’ve just moved and I want to make sure daddy knows the way. Right?
And my mother, in all her anger, resentment, confusion and shattered faith, spins her head around at me and says very sternly, “YOU’RE FATHER WILL NOT BE COMING HOME WITH US ANYMORE!”
Huh? What? I don’t understand? What happened? That’s not what daddy told me?
That moment was the pinnacle in driving me away from God, His Bible, church and into a rebellious streak that lasted nearly 30 years. Not to mention the anger I’ve dealt with all my life towards a father who I used to watch preach from the front pew and hear him talk about God and Jesus and stuff. He lied to me? He cheated on my mom? I didn’t hold enough clout in my own family to even know what hell was going on? My brothers knew.
What I didn’t know at the time was my dad had an affair with a woman in the church. He was asked to leave. We used to live in the parsonage (old timers know this to be the house the church provides for the preacher and his family), but had moved a couple years before this move. My dad continued his affair, my mom struggled with circumstances that rocked her faith.
My dad bailed on us. He had better things to do. Like date women and fool around. In the deepest recesses of my soul that is why I bailed on God by age 13. I knew He would ultimately bail on me, as my earthly father had, figured I’d do it first. That way it wouldn’t hurt so bad.
Rebekah, my heart just aches for you. Thank you for sharing your story here. Like you, a lot of the ways I grew in the coming years stemmed from that moment. And, I am startled at how ingrained that “moment” is in those of us who have experienced it. It is like a before and after switch.
They wanted to wait until after my birthday. So a month, to the date, after I turned 15 they sat us down in our living room. My dad had a letter. My mom sat with her arm around my little brother on the couch; he’d always been her favorite. Like you, something told me what was happening. Without emotion, or eye contact, my dad read us the announcement he had so carefully crafted. Then he took the three of us kids out for dinner; we could order whatever we wanted, thus beginning my turning to food for comfort.
My first boyfriend had broken up with me a week before, and I focused my pain on that more than what was happening at my home. My home…I no longer had a home, just two houses.
Even now, 16 years later, I’m still working this out of my system. It’s like a splinter that won’t come to the surface.
Thank you for sharing your story and allowing those of us who have similar experiences to feel that it’s acceptable to mourn the loss of our families. I, personally, don’t believe that it’s better for the kids.
Melissa, I don’t believe it’s better for the kids either. At least not in my situation. I am still working it out of my system, too. You are so wise in describing it as a splinter that won’t come to the surface. I find that it particularly chafes when “big life things” happen. When I got married, when I had my first son, when we moved back to my hometown…these were all moments where I mourned what wasn’t.
“It’s like a splinter that won’t come to the surface”
WOW! What a statement!
These stories, these beautiful, gut-wrenching, stories touch some place deep inside me today.
I hurt for each one. I wish I could pull you all away into some special place and speak the words of the Father to touch the scars of the past.
I see the little girls in these posts allowing the memories and the pain to be let out … There is such healing in that. I pray for each one that you will see God in your stories… that you will see that He was there all along pursuing you with His truth. He understands people walking out on the relationship. He aches with you all as you remember here…
Thanks, Julie. I also pray that opening these wounds to light will allow further healing and that He in His ultimate faithfulness and unending relationship will salve the wounds.
oh wow.
oh.wow.
Wow. This just hit me hard and read all the comments after, I realize I’m not alone in this feeling.
I was six months shy of my 18th birthday, when I heard my mother laughing in their room. It was a Sunday night and I was in bed early for school the next day. It was two weeks before Thanksgiving.
She sounded like she was hysterically laughing, which seemed odd, so I held my breath and listened. Immediately, I knew. She was sobbing and like you said, somehow you just KNOW. I wasn’t a child, I was almost an adult. I snuck to their door (we shared a wall) and I listened. My mother was trying to speak through her tears to my father.
I knocked, as the brazen 17 year old that I always was. They told me to go back to bed. Um…no thanks.
I slung the door open and in my anger & desperation of knowing what was about to happen, I yelled “What the hell is going on?!”
I heard my mom squeak out the words, “Your father just told me he doesn’t love me anymore.” With that, I slammed the door against the wall and cursed my father. How could he? It is not awesome to be an intuitive child. I had see the differences in him for months now, and I was the only one. She hadn’t seen it and my fifteen year old brother hadn’t either. They were more shocked than I was, so I was ANGRY.
I have a very close relationship with both my mother and father now and did soon after that. He told me the truth of what happened and they never spoke badly of one another. I thank them for that.
But….
My adult life and my life as a parent has been smudged with balancing holidays, birthdays, milestones, and the jealousy that erupts inside me as I watch my step-siblings (whom I truly do love dearly). It goes on forever. The only person I can talk to is my husband who also comes from a broken home. I could never tell my parents these things because it would hurt them both to the core.
So…this was a breath of fresh air, even though the hurt came tumbling back to the surface. Thanks for your honesty and for letting the rest of us know that we are normal for still carrying that weight around. No matter how buried it is.
i was surprised when i sat down to write this how much detail i could recall about that evening. it was like i was recalling a scene from a movie. it seems like it was the same for you. i’m glad that you found the same room to breath that i did by recalling that day, even if it was painful. i hopped over to your blog, and your family is beautiful.
i’m also reading 1000 gifts right now, it’s amazing!
If any of you had the chance to re-write the past, how would you have wanted your parents to tell you? Or would you have wanted them to stay together?
Cindy, i did not comment above, but as a child of divorced parents and one who went to the very edge of divorce and then back to my marriage, i suppose i could lend a word or two…and it’s only my opinion. each of us deal in different ways.
i suppose there is no way with the children but honesty, dependent upon what their ages are able to handle. they need us to handle them with care, but at the same time, they deserve honesty, on an age appropriate basis. when my parents divorced, i was only three, and have no real memory of them ever being married. so, i can’t say exactly how that all went down.
as for my own children, who were teenagers when we were planning divorce, plus one child about 7 yrs old, we were honest with them and reminded them it was no reflection of them or anything they had done or not done. we felt they needed to know they were not at fault in any way.
and, we reminded them often (even in our great agony) that our God is faithful. no matter what happens, even on our (their) darkest days, He loves us and is close to the brokenhearted.
Thanks for your input, nikkie.
Growing up in my family, nothing was ever discussed – not even the fact that my parents were divorcing. I was about 10, and until reading this post, had not really realized that my parents never told me . . . I just “knew”.
With my own marriage, I have stayed thinking I need to wait until the kids are older before walking away, but from the posts of others, it sounds like there is pain for the children no matter how old they are when their parents separate.
I think it’s painful no matter how it’s handled. My parents handled the initial telling with a lot of tact and truthfulness. It was just painful because of the nature of it. I don’t think it would have hurt less if they had waited. I do know that I wish I had been allowed to show more feelings and “fall-out” from the divorce. I was expected to just soldier on unaffected, “because this happens to people all the time”…that’s what my dad thought anyway. I think that left me with a lot to process as an adult.
I, of course, would have wanted my parents to stay together. My parents were not believers though, and I feel like they probably wouldn’t have come back together anyway. So, I guess I would have wanted them to repair the brokenness in their marriage…not just “stay together for the kids”.
I really can’t speak much as to what to do on the marriage end of it, I just know what I felt as the kid going through it. Much love to you, Cindy.
May I ask how you describe “tact and truthfulness?” I wonder how my children will interpret this experience as adults…I so want to be truthful.
Here’s my experience, not advice because as I mentioned above I don’t know the outcomes yet. My children were age 2, 4, and almost 6 six when a decision was made and Daddy moved out. Together we sat down and told them Daddy would be moving to a different house and that it was because of grown-up choices, not anything they had done or could have done. We said that we would still be a family, they still had both a mommy and a daddy. They were so young, and the conversation quickly turned to “What’s for supper?” and birthday plans.
There were more questions as Daddy did actually leave, the word divorce was not used until there was a court date. My counselor advised me to reinterate as much as possible that it was not about them, but grown-up choices, they want to feel like they have the power over the situation (um, to get parents back together) but that is interpreted as failure when it doesn’t work. My counselor also emphasized the importance of sibling support, which is why we told all three together (even with the age differences). Then one-on-one I’ve had a chance have more meaningful conversations.
I always try to be a safe place to hear their pain. It’s hard to hear, “I wish Daddy was here,” or “Remember when Daddy lived here and we…” Sometimes I try to validate them by saying agreeing that, “Yes, that was fun.” or “It was nice when he came home each evening…”
Like someone said above, I’m trying to teach them that we can trust God when hard things happen, even when we don’t understand, He is good.
I’m so sorry for your situation, hugs.
I all set to leave a comment about the post (which is, as Emily said “oh wow oh wow” to me too) but I’m feeling a bit too weepy and tender after reading all of the comments.
I pray my children cope with their life story as well as you seem to. Thank you so much for sharing.
It’s interesting to read so many of these stories. Growing up, I WANTED my parents to divorce. I used to fantasize about it. Mom and my brother and I would be all by ourselves. I’d see Dad only sometimes. It would be wonderful. I used to pretend my parents were divorced when my dad went out of down on business. It felt so liberating.
I loved my dad, and I still do. But there were a lot of issues in our household– abuse, to put it succinctly– and I STILL wish my parents had divorced.
You’re not alone, Amy — I read through the blog post and the comments feeling like an outsider. My heart aches for those whose live were torn by divorce, but what I can’t imagine is wanting both of my parents to stay married.
Like you, I grew up wishing that I did not have to live with my father; that my brothers, my mother and I could live elsewhere and never have to see him again. Living with him was living a nightmare from which I felt little hope. After telling on him at age 5, 9, 12 and one last time at age 15, I knew that the only way I could escape being raped every day was to move out, I could no longer wait for him to be the first to leave. I was 15 when I moved out. Ironically, that’s when they divorced. He no longer had a reason to stay — I was gone.
Three years later, at the age of 18, the abuse ended.
I’m 36 now, and it is a milestone I thought I’d never reach. I have been free from sexual slavery for more than half of my lifetime.
God has redeemed… beyond measure.
Thank you for sharing your story so others can feel empowered to share theirs! It was interesting and soul-crushing to read all the different -yet so similar stories and comments from children and parents alike. Julie Todd posted the following that really made me pause, “As a mom of over 23 years I couldn’t see the things that my actions and words had spoken to my children. I was in my own world trying to heal from my own lies.” I will be thinking about her words and more importantly YOUR words for a long time. I am so proud of what a beautiful, loving, honest and spiritual woman you’ve become; and good or bad, your past is part of what has shaped you. You have so many gifts to share; writing and sharing your experiences is just one of many ways you will impact the world! I am so glad you “hit” Publish… I love you Forever!
So many thoughts and emotions after reading so many thoughts and emotions! I remember wanting my parents to divorce, then giving up that hope and just longing to end the pain, forever. The longing to end my life to escape the pain of childhood. Then the relief that came when they finally divorced. Skip forward many years to when I, as a babe in Christ, married the man God had brought into my life. This was what God wanted for me, I was sure of it. Now 23 years later, 8 days before Christmas, what to my wondering ears do I hear?
“There is no good time to say this, I am throwing in the towel. I want a divorce.”
I have done all I could do to fulfill my part, I tried, I prayed, I accepted what I was given. I took it all. I feel like such a failure, but I know I am not. It is the self talk talking so lound in my head, telling me I failed, it is my fault. I know in my head that is not true, but the pain is still there, the feeling is still there, the emptyness goes on. The loneliness deepens.
I trusted God through it all, all I can do now is trust God, through it all.
kristi,
praying for you. i can’t imagine. each of our stories are just that, ours. i pray that God will give you an overwhelming sense of His presence and peace.