Divorce. I’ve never liked the word. I’ve never had a heart for those who seemingly gave up on their marriage…and I never thought it would happen to me.
Initially, I had created this Blog as a way to write out and share God’s faithfulness in the midst of a trial. It was my miscarriage in January of 2012 that launched me into the World of Blogging, and to date, all of my posts have stemmed from that experience.
What I wasn’t willing to write about came just one year later in January of 2013 when my husband of 18 years said he was done and wanted a Divorce. It had been a really rough year for us, but in truth, years before the miscarriage had been hard as well. Despite my attempts to look the other way and ignore the vast differences in our faith, values, parenting style and overall life direction; I could not stop what had been tearing down over time. It reminds me of that Jenga Game where you build a strong tower by overlapping a series of 3 blocks atop one another. There is a point where you say: “Wow, what we built is quite sturdy!”
But then slowly and subtly life’s hardships happen and with each trial, a block is removed, compromising the firm foundation. I made attempts to mortar back these open spaces with suggestions of Counseling, Marriage Retreats, and joining other couples in a Life Group or Bible Study. Hoping desperately that we could grow in wisdom and benefit from structural support and accountability outside of ourselves. But much like the Jenga Game, replacing a block is not possible with only one set of hands. If my teammate is not willing to try and rebuild, it would only be a matter of time before our tower would come crashing down.
I, too, had played a critical part in removing blocks from our structure. I somehow convinced myself that if I believed the tower could remain standing (even without maintenance) – it would. For me, divorce was never an option. I took “until death do us part” seriously. Perhaps that false sense of security added to the weakening of our structural foundation. I would have stayed and done whatever steps were needed to not break our family apart. I see now that I would have had to become a lesser version of the woman I was designed to be, in order to contort myself into continue dressing for the role of Mrs. Wynott.
So, as instructed by my Christian Therapist, “I needed to let him go.” In the depths of my heart I still loved my husband, and this request seemed impossible. But I had spent the last year watching what God could do with the death of my baby, and somehow knew He would remain Sovereign in the death of my marriage. By January 2014 our Divorce was final and I was still trying to let go.
Seeing the official stamp on a document that divided up all the Jenga Blocks we had built together into a His Pile and Her Pile was a strong dose of reality that our game had ended. Reading these new Rules of Instruction on how time once spent together as a family would now be split up, broke my heart. Despite my signature on the dotted line, it is not the path I had chosen…yet clearly the one I am on.
These last 9 months have been a huge time of growth for me. I have been able to look back on this tragic experience and once again, have seen God’s hand of guidance, protection, and unwavering love holding me together from the very start.
Just as hope and beauty came out of my desire to be vulnerable in my Miscarriage, I pray that others will read my heart and fight for their own marriages. Or, perhaps, be comforted in knowing that (like me) they are not alone if the blocks have all fallen down.