Living Happily Ever After
test123

The Move

Date: May 16, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

You know how you have a life plan…and then sometimes things happen to upset that plan and you’re shocked? I’ve seen that happen over and over in my life and in the lives of others. And that continued to be my life in 2009.

I obviously had been dealt a very unexpected life. But I continued to be human–make a plan to work with what I had, and then something would happen to ruin that plan and I’d have to go back, rethink, replan, and try it again. That happened over and over and over again last year. It happened so much it was overwhelming. Sometimes it was hard not to give up in the face of so many obstacles, every day, all at the same time!

It seemed like every day I was faced with a huge new problem, challenge or obstacle related to the situation that had been forced upon me by the choices of another. I’d work to handle it, would try to make the best of it, thought I had it taken care of, and within that same day or the next, new aspects would surface that ruined my plan and I’d have to start all over again! For several months in a row, it seemed like every single time I made any progress toward clawing myself out of the black abyss I’d been thrown into, some thing or some one would kick me back down the hole!

Some days the challenge simply of that was indescribable. But for some reason I didn’t quit.

In spite of the mess my life had become, I continued to try to salvage what I could out of the shards of life I was left with. I made a plan to settle in Utah and have my children settled in the new place we were going to live before I left them full-time and returned to work. But a few weeks before the scheduled move, that plan, too, fell apart.

I ended up moving to Utah before two of my children did. I ended up moving to Utah before my possessions did. And I ended up moving to Utah before I could move into a place of my own. None of that was my original plan, but that is how everything worked out. I know these situations are not the end of the world. People who move a lot probably deal with much bigger moving issues every time they move. However, I really hadn’t moved in 20 years. I’d never moved alone. And I was completely worried about moving my kids to a place none of us knew, and leaving them alone all day in a strange, new place. But you make the best of what you have.

To His credit, my former spouse helped me. We weren’t married any more, but He did as much as He could to assist me in making my new transition. He loaded the moving trucks for me after I had gone, drove a moving truck and arranged to have friends help him haul my things to Utah while I was already living and working there.

And He did it all as quietly as He could. My children and I were trying to make a fresh start in a new place and leave everything of the old life behind, so I instructed Him to head to the basement or anywhere away from new acquaintances should they drop by when He was hauling boxes. And He honored that request. I had many friends and relatives helping me. I don’t think anyone caught on that He was my ex-husband.

He arrived back in Colorado after helping me move to find our neighbors swarming the house and our property like a hive of angry bees. (I don’t think the neighbors, who lined the fence and stared at my teenagers as they packed their car to move to Utah after I’d already gone, realized that anyone was coming back.)

Our departure must have made them feel as if it was their right to open the mail in our mailbox, wander all over our house, the shop behind our house, our property and driveways. My former spouse arrived back in Colorado after moving me to Utah to find quite a crowd gathered there. Their children were riding their bikes around the deck of the pool, people were everywhere on the property, they had even driven their cars down the driveway!

Trespassing.

Unfortunately, the property didn’t belong to our neighbors or my spouse’s victims. It was the bank’s.

In the face of the swarm, He did as the government had previously instructed Him: He phoned 911. The police arrived and caught all of the neighbors in the act of trespassing. Boy, were the neighbors mad! (At least one had a relatively high profile job in the Denver area and was completely embarrassed to be caught in the act of trespassing. It couldn’t have been good for his career if that had gotten out.) Another neighbor chased Him down the driveway screaming at him. Another came running to join the first, yelling, “I’ve called The Feds! I’ve called The Feds! The Feds are on their way!” (If she really had called them, “The Feds” never came.) It was total craziness.

The neighbors told the authorities they had been nice up to that point because my children and I had been there. All I could think of when I heard that was that I’d hate to have experienced “not nice” if the way they’d acted and treated me was “nice!”

He lived in the house that week by himself and I struggled in Utah. I worked all day, cried all the way home, put on a happy face when I arrived and tended my children, ate dinner as our new family, and then I’d unpack and work on getting settled in our home until about 1 a.m. and then get up the next morning at 6 a.m. and do it all again. I guess it was good I hadn’t been able to sleep much in 2009 because my schedule didn’t lend itself to having much time for it anyway!

Utah was hot! At first, things were miserable. The air conditioning didn’t work. Our sprinkler system had broken. The television wasn’t hooked up right. The computer didn’t work. There was so much I needed help with and I didn’t have a clue how to do any of it! (Those who know me can vouch for my infamous lack of technological skills!) To be honest, I felt like I needed a man to do so many things and unfortunately, I didn’t have one. (It had been 20 years since I had been completely alone and I had learned to depend on a man to do things around the house, etc… An excuse, I know, but it was how I’d operated.)

Everyone was very nice to me in Utah. Everyone helped me a little bit and I was grateful for that. But I wasn’t anyone’s priority, their own families were. I understood that. It just didn’t help me. And I hated having to bother people for help with so many little things. So when He offered to come back and help me for another weekend, I let him. I needed help and was desperately grateful for it. He got a lot done and it seemed to be good for everyone in my family to have Him there.

And then in the midst of the struggle to settle in a new place and create a new life, I started to second-guess my decisions those first several weeks. I wondered if moving was a mistake? I wondered, maybe, if it would have been better to stay in Colorado? Those completely useless words “if only.” We should never let ourselves indulge in them or use them! But sometimes I forget my own wise counsel and do it anyway.

Financially, staying in Colorado hadn’t been an option. My job was in Utah, the cost of living was lower, for me, in Utah. And try as hard as I had to stay in Colorado, everything had worked out for me to move to Utah. I’d also had a very strong feeling I needed to be in Utah so I couldn’t let myself indulge in thoughts of my move as a mistake. Every time I started to think that way, I’d have to stop myself.

There we were. We had a new life. And we needed to make the most of it. We needed to make it our life.

We had to let go of Colorado and hope we’d be happy in Utah. As I looked around me, everyone in Utah seemed to love it. Sometimes I wondered, “Why couldn’t we? Why couldn’t I?”

Each day, I just tried to get through one more day and help my children get through it too. I tried to live with my eyes open to the good things we experienced and the tender mercies, the miracles, we were blessed with. And there were many. It seemed like every day at least one little good thing came our way: a treat from a friendly new neighbor, a kind word from a new acquaintance, a compliment from a stranger, a fun evening in the canyon (less than 10 minutes from our house, instead of the hour away the Colorado mountains had been!) or some other simple pleasure in life.

It showed me again that life can be good, life is good, regardless of your situation. You just have to let it be. You just have to look for it. Our greatest happiness doesn’t have to depend on the conditions of the life we find ourselves blessed to live, happiness is a conscious choice we make.

“Life is a grindstone. Whether it grinds us down or polishes us up depends on us!” (Thomas L. Holdcroft)

We have to choose to shine.

Bookmark and Share

My Last Night As A Married Woman

Date: May 14, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

I spent my last night as a married woman on July 12, 2009. I don’t remember sleeping much. Just laying there, uncomprehending, of the new life I would embark upon in a few short hours.

I got divorced, after nearly 20 year of marriage, July 13, 2009. I left the courthouse, loaded my car, and drove to Utah to begin my new and unexpected life as a single mother of four children, their sole source of all support.

I arrived in Utah approximately 10 p.m. that night, and moved in to my niece’s bedroom in my brother’s basement. I unloaded my car, put my children to bed, and cried as I watched them sleep, knowing that was my last night to simply be their mother. From there on out, I would be working full-time. I sat there and mourned all of the moments, ordinary as they are, day to day, that I would miss.

I cried myself to sleep. (That was pretty much what I’d done every night since March 18, 2009.) Well, at least I tried to sleep. But I hadn’t been sleeping much, or well, for four months.

I returned to the workforce, working in an office full-time for the first time since 1991, on July 14, 2009. At the end of that day all I could write was, “I am so glad this day is over.”

That day I worked my first day in an office of 50 strangers. It was hard. Hard to get up and go to work, hard to drive the highway and commute to work when I’d only driven that highway on vacations the two previous decades, hard to try to be friendly, hard to meet new people, and hard to learn a new job when my heart was shattered.

It was hard to work straight through lunch so I could go home to my children a little earlier. It was hard to sit at my desk feeling old, ugly, like a loser and a like a total dinosaur. It was SO hard to be me that day.

By mid-day it was so hard I feared I’d have a breakdown at my desk in front of everyone, so I went into the bathroom, shut myself in a stall, and cried. I tried to tell myself that I could have it worse (although imagine as I might, nothing really came to mind as to what could possibly be worse!) and I tried to count my blessings, but that day sure was difficult.

I returned to my brother’s home that evening to find my kids had a busy, fun day without me. I was so grateful for that, yet I was sad that having busy, fun days with my children all day every day were a thing of the past. I was starved, but I changed clothes, borrowed a neighbor’s truck, and moved a load of my stuff. I served the kids dinner, cleaned the kitchen, and watched my brother and his wife go out to dinner with a client.

Talk about feeling left behind! It used to be me that dressed up and went to dinner at nice restaurants with my spouse. I honestly felt like I’d never do anything like that again in my life. I felt the door on so many things had slammed shut, never to open again.

That day I was filled with grief. I was sick, tired and listless inside. My heart was dead. I couldn’t believe I was not quite 42 years old and already done for. But I tried to hold my head up anyway, and tried to smile and carry on, even though that wasn’t what I felt like on the inside. I was absolutely SICK at what my life had become.

I don’t know if I cried all the way to work that terrible, first day, but I know that I cried all the way home.

Thankfully, that was the worst of it. Every day, for the most part, has been better since that first day. Now that I’ve gotten to know my co-workers, now that they are my friends and know my story, several have commented they had no idea what I was going through or how I felt when they first met me. They said they never would have guessed. That’s good. I’m a child of the 70s and 80s and grew up listening to a Melissa Manchester song that emphasized, “Don’t cry out loud. Just keep it inside. Learn how to hide your feelings.”

I think I got the message of that one. Except for those visits to a stall in the bathroom at work. My first day as a single woman.

The terrible first day, of the rest of my life.

The good news? I knew it could only go up from there. And thankfully, it has!

One of the many things I learned last year was that if you hold on long enough, if you just keep getting out of bed every day and putting one foot in front of the other, eventually it will get better. Much better. And maybe even quicker than you expect.

Stay tuned.

Bookmark and Share

Like Christopher Columbus

Date: May 13, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

Five days until I moved from Colorado to Utah.

I felt like I imagined Christopher Columbus had to have felt: sailing off the edge of the map, sailing off into totally unknown territory, sailing off from the only life ever known. Columbus, himself, said, “Following the light of the sun, we left the Old World.”

It sure seemed dark in my existence. But I had the light of correct principles I knew to be true to guide me. I knew I was leaving the “old world” I’d lived in for the previous 20 years, and I was going to who knew what? I was scared to death! I wondered if Columbus had ever been afraid. I sure was! I tried not to be. But I wasn’t very successful at fighting my fear.

I just kept going, fearful, but pressing forward and hoping Columbus was right when he said, “By prevailing over all obstacles and distractions, one may unfailingly arrive at his chosen goal or destination.” I hoped that somehow, some way, I would also prevail at what lay before me: an unexpected life.

I looked to other brave explorers for inspiration. Jacques Cousteau said, “Every morning I wake up saying, I’m still alive, a miracle. And so I keep on pushing.” I kept waking up and facing each new day. I kept on pushing too.

I took great hope from another wise bit of wisdom from Cousteau: “If we were logical, the future would be bleak indeed. But we are more than logical. We are human beings, and we have faith, and we have hope, and we can work.” Thankfully, I had been taught to have faith, hope, and to work.

I was facing a journey more daunting than anything I’d ever imagined. It certainly wasn’t a voyage I’d dreamed of, planned for, or wanted to be participating in. But it was mine. My unexpected life.

Looking back, as difficult as it was to live it, it was also something more. It was an opportunity not many people are presented with. I could make of it what I might for myself and for my children. And if I handled it wisely, I could learn and grow to become a better person, and most importantly, I could teach my children how to be successful (how to live and find joy) in any set of circumstances– that’s one of the most important things we have to learn in life, in my opinion. And by helping my children overcome the huge mountain that was now their life, I could do something extraordinary with my unexpected life.

“People do not decide to become extraordinary. They decide to accomplish extraordinary things.” (Sir Edmund Hillary)

THAT is life.

Bookmark and Share

Filing Papers

Date: May 12, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

The packing of possessions continued, I started my new job working from home, I was moving from Colorado to Utah in less than two weeks and there was one other task to complete prior to the move: file the final paperwork for my divorce.

He went with me to file the last of our paperwork. It went very smoothly. We got along, talked, I made a few jokes (my typical style of making fun of the hard stuff so I don’t think about what is REALLY going on) and I tried not to think about what was taking place. As he drove, He commented that he didn’t think many divorcing couples were as cordial to one another as they filed their final paperwork as we were.

I couldn’t respond to that. I just kept reading and re-reading the words on the papers and no matter how many times I skimmed them, they didn’t seem real. Could they really be about divorce? I had never imagined myself divorcing. In fact, my divorce had made a liar out of me.

I couldn’t help but reflect on the many times over the years, as parents of one of my children’s friends would divorce my child would ask, “You and dad will never get divorced, will you?” (I remember asking my parents that same question when I was a girl and parents of one of my friends divorced.) And my answer had always been the same: “Absolutely not. I can’t think of a single thing a member of my family could do that would ever result in divorce.” Unfortunately, I never imagined the double life my spouse had been leading. I never imagined that anyone I knew personally (much less lived with) was capable of committing a single crime (much less all that He had done.) I never imagined that promise to my children would turn out to be a lie.

As we drove to file the paperwork, He also made some predictions about the next five years–five years was the amount of time He anticipated being in prison. His first prediction? That I would re-marry.

I didn’t expect to hear that. I was sure, for a myriad of reasons, that would never be in my future. And I certainly didn’t want to discuss it with Him! At that time, I couldn’t comprehend it. I was sure it wouldn’t be true. After being married nearly 20 years, I couldn’t comprehend dating much less getting married! He also predicted the demise of an extended family member who struggled with mental health issues and addictions. Funny, but the remarriage He predicted for me shocked me WAY more than hearing what he thought the future held for extended family.

He then told me I had His permission to fall in love again with another man, as long as the man would be good to our kids. I didn’t respond for SO MANY reasons.

I didn’t need His permission. His permission was not His to give. We were divorcing–not to mention the fact that after all He had done, I didn’t feel He had a right to dictate anything for me or my children, then or in the future.

I thought it was strange to have him mention something like that while we were legally still married.

I knew there was no way I’d even have time to date, much less re-marry, when I was the sole parent to four children who had been traumatized. I felt all of my time, energy and effort needed to be directed toward helping them heal. I truly felt like I’d had my chance at life, and now my life was to help my children make the most of their chance.

As I mentioned before, I firmly believed no one in their right mind would ever want an “old bag!”

And who would ever want to take on the financial, emotional, and every other type of responsibility for four children?

Those are just some of the reasons I didn’t respond to his predictions. I was getting very good at “not hearing” and thus, not responding, to difficult things. It was the only way I survived those terrible months of 2009 and continued to live and hold my head up in the face of persecution and publicity and everything else that went along with my position as the wife of a criminal.

I had the terrible feeling I was destined to be alone on so many levels for so many reasons. I only prayed I’d be up to the challenge of loneliness. Because the loneliness was extreme. From the moment I found out about the ponzi scheme and pending incarceration of my spouse, although we were legally married and even living in the same house, I felt acute loneliness. I was alone in the world.

For the first time, I understood the concept of someone being surrounded by people yet totally alone. That was exactly how I felt. To anyone else who has ever felt that, I am truly sorry. I wouldn’t wish that degree of loneliness on anyone.

“Loneliness is the ultimate poverty.” (Abigail Van Buren)

A VERY unexpected life.

Bookmark and Share

The Irony of Crime

Date: May 11, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

So life in Colorado continued winding down. I was packing and preparing to move my four children to Utah and begin a new life. He was wrapping up the details of His life and preparing to go to prison.

As part of that, He went to our cabin to take care of some business. As soon as He arrived at the cabin, He called me, absolutely furious and disgusted by what He had found. We had been robbed!

He ranted about the situation, listing every thing that was missing. He was so upset to have been stolen from!

All I could do was laugh.

He stopped, mid-rant, and asked why I was laughing. I said, “I’m sorry, but I think it is kind of funny! So ironic! The man who stole has been stolen from and he is angry that someone stole from HIM!”

Funny how that happened, huh?

He tried to justify His indignation, but I just didn’t feel it. Now that I knew the truth about the life He had led, I realized the cabin had been purchased and furnished with money HE stole! It wasn’t really ours and never had been.

The irony of the situation entertained me for a moment in the nightmare that had become my unexpected life. And it validated something I had heard His mother say time and again in the nearly two decades we’d been married: “What goes around comes around.”

It surely did.

Bookmark and Share

Eggs, Anyone?

Date: May 10, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

Things continued to escalate as we prepared to move from Colorado to Utah. The stress and strain was absolutely palpable. Even my children felt it.

My youngest was emotional and clingy. My middle son was emotionally devastated yet frustrated–he was the one that wanted to use his finger to communicate that hard day I already blogged about. My two oldest held up well, but finally got closer to snapping. They told me they were going to egg the neighbors on their way out of town!

I laughed–thinking it was one of our usual “coping jokes” that we made up to help ourselves deal with the trauma of our new life. We laughed, to try to keep the tears at bay, I think. But then I realized they might be serious.

I absolutely forbade that behavior from them and we had quite an animated discussion about it as they had very different opinions than I did on that one!

I told them when we stoop to the level of hatred, frustration, and anger displayed by those around us, and when we choose to lash out the way those around us had, then we become like them. And I didn’t want any member of my family to behave like those around us had! I told them we knew better. And regardless of what anyone done to us, regardless of their opinion of us, we would continue to hold our heads high and live good lives. Even if no one around us believed that is what we were doing.

And I think for the first time in my life I uttered the dreaded phrase, “Over my dead body will any one of my children…”

You become a cliche at the most unexpected times in life, don’t you?

Sometimes it felt like everywhere I turned, I was faced with another nightmare not of my choosing. It seemed like in so many ways, my children and I didn’t have any choices. But we had a choice in how we responded in our challenge. And as for me and my house, I was determined we’d keep our eggs in the kitchen and eat them for breakfast! It was the right thing to do. And food was in short supply anyway!:)

To my children’s credit, they did not give in to the impulse to vent their feelings as they left what had once been their very good life in Colorado to begin a new one in Utah. I was grateful…and proud.

Eggs, anyone?

Bookmark and Share

Happy Mother’s Day!

Date: May 9, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

Happy Mother’s Day!

What a wonderful occasion to think of our mothers, all they have been to us, and all they have taught us.

For me, every day is a little like Mother’s Day as my mother is not living. So each day I’m reminded of something she stood for, something she taught me, or something she said or did and I pause to remember her and her teachings and example that prepared me to live an unexpected life. I can’t help but wonder how differently things could have turned out for me had my mother not prepared me as excellently as she did. My story could certainly have turned out very differently. But thanks to my mom, I’m heading toward a happy ending. I’m indebted to her.

Today I remembered many good women I am indebted to: the mother who gave me life, the mother who raised me, aunts who have been mothers to me, and good friends who have filled in the voids that periodically surface in my life as I carry on without parents and in the past year, as I’ve pressed forward very alone.

Last Mother’s Day, my life had fallen apart. Less than two months before, I’d found out my spouse had been running a ponzi scheme for most of our marriage and would be heading to prison for several years, leaving me alone to provide for and raise our four children. We were divorcing. I was entering the work force for the first time in 18 years. Many changes hitting and all at the same time. For awhile, every day was more difficult than the previous one. It took herculean effort on my part to get out of bed every day and face what had become my life. But I did it.

However, last year, good friends made it a little less of a challenge.

Friends coordinated a special Mother’s Day for me–a bright spot in an otherwise very overwhelming existence. Many friends chipped in to the effort financially on my behalf. They made the day unforgettable for me.

The day began with an unexpected delivery of homemade cinnamon rolls, a box of See’s candy, the most beautiful arrangement of two-three dozen pink roses, and a card to me from many friends. They also delivered a huge, delicious meal to us as well.

Another friend took my daughter shopping so she could purchase some things for me for Mother’s Day.

Frankly, my life was in such turmoil I didn’t give much thought to Mother’s Day 2009. I probably was just hoping to make it through another day. I was too busy to think about it. And I was too devastated to expect anything special that day.

He was still in our home, living with us, we had four children together yet He did not mention one word about the day until evening. I noticed. So did my children. He came to me after it was dark and apologized for not having money to buy me a gift but said, “Happy Mother’s Day.”

He was sorry he couldn’t buy me a present? THAT was why he couldn’t even say the words, “Happy Mother’s Day?” until the day was past? I couldn’t believe it. I told him I never had been about the money and he knew that. I told him words didn’t require any currency. I reminded him I’d asked for very few (if any) material things as gifts in the course of our entire marriage and the only gift I’d ever requested was a letter of appreciation–which doesn’t cost anything but time and effort.

He acknowledged all of that and walked away. I shook my head, again, wondering if I’d ever known the stranger who was now living in my home.

So if you want to make a mother’s day, in my opinion, take a moment and write a letter of appreciation to a mother you love or admire. I promise, you’ll add to the joy of her day, and who knows, it just might help her over an unexpected event in her own life.

“In everyone’s life, at some time, our inner fire goes out. It is then burst into flame by an encounter with another human being. We should all be thankful for those people who rekindle the inner spirit.” ~Albert Schweitzer

Happy Mother’s Day to the mothers, women and friends who rekindle my spirit. How grateful I am for their influence in my life. May I follow their good example and be that to others in my own small way.

Bookmark and Share

You Know It’s Tough When…

Date: May 8, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

You know you’ve been left with a tough lot to hoe when your good friend calls to tell you her husband has another tumor, has already had a stem cell transplant and yet, she’d still rather have her life than yours!

We laughed SO HARD over that one.

No one wanted what I had, including me! My worst fears were my reality.

My friend and I cried together, too. Few cried with me like she did. She had endured many years of trials and challenges she’d never expected; she’d had to adjust her dreams accordingly, and she felt my pain like few could. Interesting, isn’t it? That our unexpected lives have a way of helping us develop empathy and compassion in a way nothing else is able to. Although I would never wish hardship on anyone, what a blessing my friend was to me because of all she had endured and risen above.

And the best part about being with her and knowing her family challenges was that her situation made me simply grateful to be alive. To have a life to live, unexpected as it was. Because not everyone has that option.

“I have sometimes been wildly, despairingly, acutely miserable, but through it all I still know quite certainly that just to be alive is a grand thing.” (Agatha Christie)

Grand indeed.

Bookmark and Share

Father’s Day

Date: May 7, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

I know Mother’s Day is coming. But what I’m thinking about today is Father’s Day 2009. What a TOUGH day.

Although our family had always gone to church together that day, 2009 was a different. My spouse didn’t go to church with us anymore, and that day, my two youngest did not want to go to church without their dad. I couldn’t blame them. On top of everything else they were dealing with, how hard to be so young and see everyone else sitting by their dads when my sons knew their dad was headed to prison.

How hard would it be to get up and sing Father’s Day songs…to other dads? I felt for them. I really did. When they both complained they had sore throats (in June), I didn’t even question it. I let them stay home.

But instead of celebrating the father of my children that day, I really struggled inside toward Him. Although I didn’t express it out loud, this is how I felt and what I wrote that day, despite my goal not to hate anyone: “I could hate him for the lies He told and lived for almost two decades, for what He did to his victims, and for all He has done to what was once our family. But the hardest thing I face is not about any of that. How am I ever NOT going to hate him for what He has done to our children? This day is just a reminder to me of all that. I feel He deserves absolutely nothing.”

But what I felt and what I did were two different things.

I needed to do what was best for my children. I had to show them a good example. I had to model what I thought was the right behavior. I had to practice what I had always preached.

I had to choose NOT to hate.

I wished Him a “Happy Father’s Day” and I spent a little of the practically non-existent cash on small gifts from my two youngest children. I suggested my daughter bake a dessert her dad loved as her “gift” to Him. It was the right thing to do: for Him (his last Father’s Day for many years, probably) and surely for my children.

Prior to the day, one of my older children came to me and said, “You aren’t going to do anything for dad for Father’s Day, are you?”

I replied that I would help any of them celebrate their dad in whatever way we could think of and manage. When asked what they planned they replied, “Nothing. He deserves nothing after all he has done. And he did NOTHING for you on Mother’s Day.” (But that’s another blog post.)

I acknowledged that child’s feelings and told that child whatever they felt and whatever they decided, was the right choice and I would support them in that. But I told them for the two younger kids, helping them honor their dad was the right thing…for them.

I don’t know what the experts say about that. I certainly am not one. But my instinct was that in situations like ours, or divorce situations or any other situations the parents cause and their children have no choice in what takes place, the children HAVE to be free to feel what they feel, and to be validated in what they feel–whatever that is–and that whatever they feel is right and correct and the right choice for them.

I told my children that again and again during 2009. And I wasn’t just saying that, I believe that. But I also told them at some point, they’d have to let themselves feel everything, work through it all, heal and forgive. I told them that is the only thing I insist on: they have to forgive.

The horror in one child’s eyes, when they realized I expected them to forgive their dad at some point, was evident! But I stood by it and still do. I told them forgiveness doesn’t mean you have to be their best friend, or that you even have to spend time with them, but you have to let go of the hate. You have to overcome their wrongs against you, forgive them, and rise above the natural inclination to hold a grudge or hate.

I truly believe in forgiveness. For everyone. For everything. Because if you don’t forgive, that hatred can destroy you. And then THAT is the true tragedy. Not the terrible destruction caused by the perpetrator, not everything the perpetrator destroys, but your destruction. The destruction you allow to happen because of the choices made by someone else.

Hatred is like acid. It can do more damage to the vessel in which it is stored than to the object on which it is poured.

And in my humble opinion, that is no way to live!

THAT is why I believe in forgiveness. And why I’m doing all I can to help my children feel it toward their father and any others who wrong them. Because I want so much for them. I want them to experience all life has to offer. Life is good. Life can be beautiful–even in spite of, or maybe even because of, the hard stuff.

My children have important things to accomplish, greatness to embrace, and oak trees to become. “Today’s mighty oak tree is merely yesterday’s little nut that managed to hold its ground.”

That’s what we’re about at our house. That’s really our bottom line. We’re just a bunch of nuts trying to hold our ground through a very unexpected life!

Bookmark and Share

A New Family Picture

Date: May 6, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

“Life is a rough biography. Memories smooth out the edges.” (Terri Guillemets)

Prior to my 2009 nightmare, I won a free 16×20 portrait at a charity auction. I had forgotten all about it, but as I packed to move, I found the coupon. I thought it was a timely discovery: I was moving and wouldn’t be able to use it after I moved away–at that time, I couldn’t imagine when, or if, I’d ever come back, if even for a visit. I was divorcing and didn’t have one picture of just my children and I to hang in our home. So I booked an appointment for a new family portrait.

We all got ready, wearing coordinating clothes, and drove to the portrait studio. It actually wasn’t any different, up to that point, than getting any other family picture taken had been. Except that even the youngest child was happy and in a good mood. (I had always been the one to schedule the appointment, choose the clothes, get myself and all of the children ready, and then He would show up, change, and go with us to the appointment–although He was usually stressed out about something and his stress would rub off on some of the children as we drove so that by the time we got there, things were a bit of a challenge. Then He’d do something to help everyone feel happy again, usually the promise of a treat afterward took care of it, so our picture experiences ended up being good memories. But His behavior was the reason we needed a treat afterward!)

I was excited that the picture was not going to cost us a thing at a time we had no money. I was excited to have a picture appropriate to hang in our home as we began a new life. Everything was going off without a hitch…until we were walking in the door of the studio.

My middle son, who was nine years old at the time, stopped, turned to me, and asked, “Wait. Where is Dad? Why are we getting a picture taken without Him?”

How do you answer that, at a time like that?

My poor boy. Every little thing about our unexpected life was so sad for him and hurt him. We couldn’t even get a picture taken without causing him pain!

It reminded me of something my oldest wrote in an essay at about the same age, only life, for him, was a lot different then: “I am like a camera taking pictures with my mind.” He was referring to happy memories, I think, and I couldn’t help but wonder what my middle son’s life camera was documenting for his future reference.

My challenge then, as it had always been, was to help my children create happy memories to record in the cameras of their minds. Only the material they were working with, the life they were documenting, had dramatically changed–and not for the better, I thought at that time.

But I had to help them do the best they could with what we had to work with. For them. And for me.

I had to hope that somehow, I could help them realize that, “Things that were hard to bear are sweet to remember.” (Seneca)

If you handle them right.

Bookmark and Share