Single Parenting

"Christmas Crisis"

by:

Kari West

As I sorted through the mail two weeks before Christmas, I found myself with a stack of season's greetings in one hand and a divorce summons in the other. That moment slashed through 22 years of family holiday memories: snuggling in front of the fire listening to carols, reminiscing over photos of a growing daughter, finding the perfect tree, gathering around a steaming chili pot before the Christmas Eve church service.

Later a verbal dart pierced my heart: "I don't want to be anything like you," our 12-year-old daughter told me. I don't want to talk like you, dress like you, act like you or look like you because Daddy left you."

Although I trusted in a God who could turn evil into good, I wondered how He'd do it this time.

Not certain how to handle the emotions I now felt, I began journaling. During my nightly devotions, I scribbled letters to God - letters full of anger, fear and disappointment. With shaking hands, I flipped through the Bible, writing in its margins and recording each promise I found. And I prayed for truth.

Then I decided to claim 1 Peter 5:10 for the new year: "And the God of all grace, who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast" (emphasis mine).

ACCEPTING THE PAST

I searched for a place to live within walking distance of public transportation so my learning-disabled daughter could get to school alone. In mid-January, I sat in my lawyer's office reviewing the marital settlement agreement. His advice confirmed my suspicion: "You'll spend $15,000 finding $5,000. You're wise to let go."

I signed my name in red ink, waiving all past, present and future interest in my husband's business. That night at the foot of an empty bed, I knelt and gave God all I had left: my life, health, job, future and daughter. I'd lost 13 pounds in two weeks and was self-employed, without the security of a salary of health benefits. A couple of days later, my husband carried away the last box of tools to his car. "I've never been happier," he said. "We should have done this a long time ago."

After he left, I rearranged the remaining pieces of furniture in the family home - the one I, too, would soon leave forever.

In April, I discovered numerous infidelities had undermined our marriage for more than a decade. My anger spun inward with each revelation of fraud and deceit. I berated myself for holding on too tightly to a false commitment. My daughter labeled me the liar. "You said you and Daddy would never get a divorce," she said.

Inadequacy haunted me. I couldn't vindicate my position to my own daughter. Despair whispered, Give up. Self-sufficiency boasted, I'll handle it. But God's Word in 1 Peter 5:7 was clear: Let go.

How? I knew anger turned inward often leads to depression, turned outward leads to revenge - but lifted upward can lead to a miracle. I didn't want to remain bitter. I determined to step beyond my feelings, accept the past and allow God to teach me forgiveness of my ex-husband and myself. When the divorce became final in June, I sent my ex-husband this note:

To the memory of a love that began one snowy Christmastime. To a marriage that saw  a young man's dreams of a family and college degrees come true. And to a marriage that   saw a beautiful baby daughter born to a young woman who really wanted nothing more

than to be a loving wife and mother. To the memory of what could have been, may you  now find whatever it is that makes you happy. I do wish you well.

I had placed a tombstone on the grave of my marriage. And in life's emptiest spot, God implanted a vision.

AFFIRMING THE PRESENT

"Dare to dream what your life will be in three months, six months, a year, two years," my associate pastor told me when I went to him for counsel.

Realizing I had a choice, I faced my circumstances. When a painful memory bombarded my thoughts, I repeated a Scripture I'd memorized, and I tried to forgive hurts as they happened.

My daughter and I celebrated our next Christmas with an 18-inch artificial tree perched on a new coffee table in a smaller house in a different city. I had learned God's love doesn't mean He changes circumstances. I was now a divorced working mom raising my daughter alone. There was no hope for reconciliation.

Church friends became my family. On my ex-husband's custodial weekends, I invited people to lunch, attended singles group activities, exercised at a health club, grew pansies in pots and changed my surroundings and my wardrobe. Since I couldn't go back, I had to move on.

ANTICIPATING THE FUTURE

Over time I realized God had changed me. My failed marriage did not define my worth. I no longer avoided the faded photos in the dusty albums. I learned to stop counting losses and count, instead, the new faces sitting around our holiday table. I continued with some of the old traditions, such as my favorite fruitcake recipe, and I discarded others, such as old Christmas ornaments I sold at a garage sale to a single dad and his two children. I remember their delight over all the handcrafted sequined Santas, crocheted balls and patchwork wreaths I'd made during my two decades of marriage. Each time I let go of an ornament from the past, God handed me a brightly polished possibility. My journey lightened. And my hands opened to receive God's gifts.

"Can I wear one of your necklaces tonight, Mom?" asks my 20-year-old daughter in her race for the telephone. I nod an okay. I recall the verbal dart that had pierced my heart eight years ago, the one about not wanting to be anything like me. And I know there isn't a better time for forgiving than during this season for giving.