It Takes Two

It is always comforting to have books, articles, people come into your life at just the right moment in answer to heartfelt prayer. I saw this article in Good Housekeeping July 2009 and shared it with the father-of-my-children when we had been separated for about a year and a half.

CHEERIOS
My five-year-old granddaughter was sitting across the kitchen table from me one bright Sunday morning several years ago, digging into a bowl of CHeerios while I read the paper.
Suddenly she said, "Grandma, you're married to Grandpa Frank, right?"
"Yes, Megan," I said
"But you used to be married to Grandpa John, right?"
I braced myself. Here we go, I thought. The grandchildren are beginning to puzzle over why they have multiple sets of grandparents, and I'm going to have to explain what divorce is all about. "Yes, Megan."
Eyes thoughtful, she slowly began spooning in more Cheerios. "You used to be married to Grandpa John, and now you are married to Grandpa Frank..." She paused and nailed me with her eyes. "But you still love Grandpa John, right?"
I hadn't expected this, and I realized I had a millisecond to reassure this child that the world of divorce and remarriage, with all its anger and hurt, did not threaten her small circle of loved people. "Yes, Megan," I said. She let out a sigh of relief and dug back into the Cheerios. Her world was whole.
That evening , I reported the exchange to my husband: how a simple declaration of love had given this grandchild a feeling of safety that my ex-husband and I had been unable to give to our children. Our divorce had left our daughters for some time with divided loyalties, guilt and plenty of residual anger. They had survived and flourished, but why should the grandchildren be forced to pledge allegiance to the same grievances? Wasn't there a point where the enmity could be put to rest? "Who cares anymore who was right or who was wrong?"
He agreed. Soon after that, I talked to my ex-husband and his wife, and the four of us found ourselves agreeing on one bedrock commitment: to give the gift of completeness to our grandchildren. Our story was old news- we had the chance to live a new, better one.
Since then we've shared most family holidays, often in my ex-husband's converted Wisconsin barn. We've wrapped gifts together; taken the kids to the fireworks together; washed dishes together. We're happily remarried to spouses we love and if anyone asked if either he or I pined for the other, I'd have to say, "not in this lifetime or any other."
So was my answer to Megan truthful?
It was. My ex and I could let go of our old disappointments. The reward? Something huge- a chance to give our grandchildren the gift of a shared history. It's their family story now. Written better and true.
(Patricia O'Brian)

The father-of-my-children read this and answered that I was such a Pollyanna, and that this scenario would never happen in our family if we divorced. He was quite emphatic about this and added it to his harangue of threats towards me. (Those threats made it so easy for me to finally walk away from him with assurance because Heavenly Father was showing me his true, unrepentant, addictive heart.)

It has been four years since we separated, 1 1/2 since divorce, and I realize it takes two to create a loving, shared history for our posterity. I have every expectation and a clear vision of our family getting there some day; it's just the right thing to do for our children and as disciples of Christ.