It was two faces, two names that slipped into my mind. And then slipped into my prayers. In morning’s golden light on a quiet, country road, I followed His lead and prayed this…
Today, I am going to speak a very targeted word. This is not for everyone, but is rather for a particular group of people. If you have gone through a divorce and you’re concerned about your kids, this one’s for you. (And let me add that by describing divorce from a child’s perspective, in no way do I want to compound your pain or anxiety. I will try to be as sensitive as I can be.)
Before I start, I also want to make it clear that if you are contemplating the initiation of a divorce, this isn’t for you. In no wise do I want anyone to take what I’m about to say and grab onto it as some kind of excuse or permission to go ahead and “it will all be okay.” I can offer you no such assurance. Such an act would presume upon the grace of God, and that is tremblin’ ground right there.
It is no secret that our family history includes a divorce. Never in this universe or any alternate ones would Mr. Schrock and I have dreamt that we would watch two parents divorce. See a family fall apart. Know the particular hell of digging out from that rubble. But it happened.
We suffered. All of us. Never mind that it came after we had been married and were parents ourselves. That we were no longer children, shuffling back and forth for weekend visits. It was a quake that shook our very foundations, tremors ripplin’ and rollin’, splittin’ crust.
It was the only trimester that Mr. Schrock logged a C while in college, the shape of his pain in one letter.
The universal truth of divorce is that it never ends. It is a certain kind of death. That’s the simplest way I know to describe it. And here, I want you to hear me: This is not to say that all hope has ended, or all beauty or happiness; life, joy or meaning.It simply means that it’s an ongoing situation with dynamics that will always be felt. That will always need to be dealt with.
In divorce, there is no quick or easy healing of wounds. For anyone, the two spouses included.
But back, now, to those two faces, two names, two siblings whose parents have divorced. This is what I found welling up in my heart, prayer-notes falling from lips. “Let this wounding, this crippling that is theirs redound to Your glory!” For in their weakness, You will be strong.
What opportunity for redemption! What promise of joy. What hope therein lies. The very thing that has wreaked havoc, caused such pain could be the source of the most power-full ministry. First in themselves, then to others.
This, dear soul, is how I’ve found that He works; that the very places of my greatest wounding are the places of my greatest victories. And then this–the places of my greatest opportunities. Even as I write this, a joy-line is curvin’ on my face. For just this very summer for the first time in my life, I was able to open my mouth and say out loud, “Thank You for (the hard thing that) You gave me.” And to mean it.
That was the moment I knew what healing God had wrought within me. What agony and hell He’d led me through. That was the day that a corner was turned, a marker was laid, and a happy, happy girl knew that Papa could be trusted. Even in the hottest of fires.
So, you. If you have gone through a divorce, and you are terribly concerned about your children, grab onto my small, morning prayer. Offer it up, adding in their sweet names, and allow God to carry your kids.
You can. He can, and He will.
With all the love I can offer,