The Here and Now

  I have often marveled at how it seems God puts people together for a reason.  It's that mysterious sovereignty of His we can't quite understand!  Even though we are the choosers of every decision we make, He somehow reaches back before the beginning of time and pulls out an "I knew you were going to do that" meaning for everything we do in the present.  In marriages that are blessed by God, the spouses are like two puzzle pieces that fit together perfectly if they will only learn from each other.
   Remember working a puzzle as a child and trying to force a piece to fit where it didn't belong?  Some marriages are like that.  Those rarely last.  But remember having to force a piece in where it actually did belong, while other reasons kept it from going in easily?  Maybe the piece was too new and stiff, or maybe part of it was broken?  Perhaps other pieces were crowding it, or there were still pieces missing somewhere else that misaligned the space you were working on?  Many marriages are like that, too.  Some puzzles have only a small number of pieces and they go together quickly.  But some have many pieces and take a very long time to work, don't they?  Until both spouses are willing to yield that space God is trying to fill in them through a quality their spouse possesses (either naturally or by learning), that marriage will struggle.  It is a sad, sad time in a marriage when one spouse is willing, even desirous, and the other is not.  Eventually, even a marriage blessed, perhaps even intended by God, often ends in divorce.
   The aftermath and destruction caused by a divorce is often catastrophic and traumatic.  Not all divorces are shocking or unwanted, but I have been astounded at how many of them are just that.  Mine was both, and the effects, for me, were devastating.  I have talked to and heard about many women (and men), who feel their entire lives were blown apart, and they felt completely powerless.  In my marriage, at times it felt like we were trying to squeeze the puzzle piece where it belonged, while other reasons kept it from going in easily, but I always knew it would work eventually. After all, despite a few specific issues, we both wanted the same thing.  We may have had trouble with a piece or two, as all couples do, but we both always wanted to see the finished picture we worked so hard to create.  And so many other pieces were already in place.  In fact, after 40+ years together, our puzzle was almost complete.  And when I stood back and looked at the whole picture, it was beautiful.  But one day, he decided he didn't want to work on our puzzle anymore, and he quit.  What am I suppose to do with this almost finished picture now?  If I take out the pieces I put in, it's only half a picture, and I can't see how all these random pieces could ever fit together to become something on their own.  And what happens to the years we worked on it together?
   In the months that followed, I felt abandoned and so alone.  Even though I was fortunate to have our girls around me, the one person I went through everything with was gone.  The person I shared every good thing with, the person I endured every difficult thing with, and the person who was always there for comfort and wisdom for every terrible thing was gone.  Not only gone, but left.  Gone on purpose.  The pain of that was, and is, overwhelming and unbearable.  The smallest child in me came out, and I felt helpless and hopeless, abandoned and discarded.  I was hurting, I was shocked, I was sad, I was afraid, and I was all those things over and over again every time I went to bed and every time I awoke.
   Early in this place of pain and hopelessness, I heard Oprah interview Dr. William Petit, the physician whose home was burned after his wife and two daughters were brutally murdered in their own home in Connecticut in 2007.  In those few short hours Dr. Petit lost everything he ever had in this life, save extended family members.
   While no one could compare a divorce to such unspeakable evil, something he said caught my attention.  He said that when you marry, you find a partner for life; someone you can navigate the open waters with and who will co-captain your ship.  You don't expect that person not to be there someday.  I related to that fundamental assumption on which I, too, had based my whole adult life.
   In his horrific loss, however, people often told him to try and live in the moment, the Here and Now.  Meaning well, they wanted him to find meaning and purpose and perhaps even beauty and joy.  People going through a divorce are often given the same advice.  In those early days, after Doug's leaving "was not up for reconsideration", Dr. Petit's response to living in the here and now was exactly how I felt.  He said, "[Living in the moment], is OK for people who have a past they can touch and a future they can dream for.  But when you feel like a lot of your past is gone and there's no future, the present loses some meaning."  I wept because while it seemed those words were not strong enough for what he had lost, they described perfectly what I was feeling.  In that moment, I felt like the amazing past we had built together had all crumbled, and with it, every hope for the future.
   As shocking as a divorce was to me then, equally shocking is that it has been a year and a half since Doug left.  I am still hurt and sad.  The shock is beginning to go away, and while I am still afraid at times, the reasons for the fears change as time goes on. Most of the early fears like being alone in the house at night have been replaced with fears of "What if I don't have enough money to pay the bills?"  But the smallest child in me has been tucked into bed, and in her place, the woman I know I am is learning to do life on her own.  I don't like it, and I don' t know if I will ever get use to it.  I loved being married, and I loved the one I was married to.  But I am doing it.  I know I can and I know I will.  I won't jump in right away and hope another person will rescue me.  I have to figure this out for myself and by myself.  Of course God is helping me.  His mysterious sovereignty is at work again, and somehow, though it was based on someone's choice,  it was no surprise to Him.  He knew Doug would choose what he did.  I've had to work through how I feel about that.
   One bright spot is I am definitely clinging to God, The One who will never walk away, never throw me away, never say I'm not necessary or good enough.  Often when I was tired of always feeling so crummy, I would ask God to interrupt my sorrow and surprise me with joy.  He has done that many times recently, and as I dwell on those snippets of joy (usually involving my grandkids), I know I will begin to live in the Here and Now, and maybe even enjoy it!