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In The Minority

Date: October 25, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

“The test of courage comes when we are in the minority. The test of tolerance comes when we are in the majority.” (Ralph W. Sockman)

My ex-husband realized he was in the minority when he first arrived at the minimum security of the incarceration facility. He was part of a group of five inmates. The deputy asked, “How many of you have been here before?” He was shocked to see he was the ONLY ONE who didn’t raise his hand!

He couldn’t help but notice as a white man, without a tattoo, he was again in the minority at the facility.

As he got to know the personal situations of the men, he realized that having been married to one woman for 20 years and having four children with just one woman, also put him in the minority. Most of the men he met had children with several women. One man had eight children by seven women!

Another way he differed from the majority of the inmates he interacted with was in the language he used. He may have been the first inmate in history to attempt to express himself forcefully not with profanity, but with his own “strong” words: “darn it,” “shucks,” and “crap.” The other men in jail began to use those same words around him, saying them with a smile, and then laughing as they mocked his vernacular totally unexpected in the inside.

But it’s ok to be different. Even in the unexpected life. Even in prison.

The man in the minority didn’t completely “fit in” to the environment in which he lived. And the men in the majority excelled in tolerance for his “oddities.” Their friendship grew despite their differences. And as inmates arrived and departed for other facilities and other places, they were sad to see each other go.

“Happy trails to you, until we meet again.” (Dale Evans Rogers)

It can happen. Even in prison.

A Perspective on Things I Never Thought I’d Learn

Date: October 22, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

“There is not an issue that a woman cannot bring a perspective to.” (Eddie Bernice Johnson)

Speaking of perspective, here’s more of mine: Life teaches you lessons you don’t anticipate; you learn things you never, in your wildest dreams, imagine you will learn.

I’ve been exposed to things in my unexpected life I never expected–like crime, divorce, and prison. I’ve learned things I NEVER imagined knowing anything about! Like aspects of the justice system, jail and prison.

After my then-husband revealed his criminal activity to me on March 18, 2009, and told me he anticipated being incarcerated for 5-7 years, I could not wrap my head around any part of it. I’d never stolen so much as a grape from a grocery store without paying for it, and my husband had stolen millions of dollars and was heading to prison? I was shocked and in shock. I didn’t know everything it entailed or what was coming to any of us. I’d never known anyone in prison, anyone with a relative in prison and had never been involved in breaking the law beyond an occasional speeding ticket while driving. My only education about any of it came courtesy of Hollywood, and based on everything I’d ever seen about prisons in t.v. shows and movies, they seemed like the ultimate horror. And then the man I was married to told me he was heading to one.

What do you do when you find out your husband of 20 years is heading to prison? If you’re me, you worry and wonder. Then you google “jail” and “prison”, read and research and try to learn anything you can. That’s what I did anyway.

I tried to find out anything I could about prison and what to expect his living conditions, life, and incarceration experience would be. I didn’t have a lot of luck, as a law abiding citizen I didn’t even know where to look, but I did learn some new things. The little bit I found was just a tiny taste of what was to come. Despite everything he had done, and all his selfish choices had thrust upon his victims, me and my children, I was scared. For him. And that’s really all I knew of the prison experience until that day in late August 2009, when my former spouse went before a magistrate and was charged with a crime, pled “not guilty” to the charge and was taken into custody.

Besides his sentencing day last month, March 18, 2009, and July 13, 2009, that day was one of the worst for me.

I was at work all day in Utah, trying to get a lot done and keep busy with projects so I wouldn’t worry or wonder about what was happening in Denver, CO. I didn’t know what to expect, or how I would know what happened in court that day, since no one considered me a victim and I was no longer married to the criminal. I knew of no one who was going to get me word of what transpired, so I checked online media sources every hour or two throughout the day, anticipating something would be mentioned at some point. Yet as much as I had waited for it all morning, and expected it, I was still shocked when I entered the words “Shawn Merriman Ponzi” and up popped stories about the events of that day.

I sat there, at the computer monitor, frozen. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. It was real. (I still couldn’t believe it.) I really wasn’t going to wake up any time soon and discover I’d simply been experiencing the most real-feeling nightmare of my life. It truly was more than a bad dream. It was the worst of the unexpected life. The day I had anticipated for months had finally arrived and the wheels of justice were turning. I couldn’t believe a man I’d loved and lived with, and had chosen to be the father of my children, was actually going to prison. But somehow I kept it together; finished my work day; drove home to my children, and no one was the wiser about what had happened in my life that day.

Everything about that event made me sick to my stomach–the “last phone call” Shawn made to talk to someone, me, that morning before he headed to the courthouse and embarked on the rest of his journey and the additional consequences resulting from his crimes; reading an email he sent that a friend was driving him to the courthouse as he was “a bit distracted and didn’t want to drive himself;” seeing video of him walking through the glass revolving doors of the courthouse heading to his hearing; reading of a courtroom packed with victims and how “more than 20 of his alleged victims stood up and applauded…Most were smiling.” (Miles Moffat, denverpost.com, 8/20/2009)

I don’t know how I’d feel if someone took MY most important possession, any one of my children from me, so I don’t judge the actions of those in attendance that day as right or wrong. I simply offer my perspective that it made me sick to see others exult in the demise of another, regardless of what that person had done. I hoped within my heart that regardless of what the future held for me, I would always choose to be strong enough to refrain from exulting in the downfall of another.

It also bothered me to read about myself in the stories about Shawn Merriman. Despite the fact I repeatedly asked everyone involved not to mention me or my children, they always did. That day, the magistrate referenced my children and I in a confidential, pre-hearing document, so it became part of the record, and was reported. And of course the reports were never accurate. That day it was, “his wife and children have moved to Utah…” There was no “wife.” We were divorced! (You might have to be the innocent ex-wife of a criminal to understand my perspective–absolute distaste for anything attempting to link me to the man, the crimes he committed or the media coverage about any of it.)

It was a welcome relief to actually laugh at one thing I read: the part about how Shawn Merriman was considered a flight risk so he had been taken into custody at the courthouse. That wasn’t quite accurate either, but it did make for more drama in the reporting! The reality is that Shawn Merriman did not have a passport–that, and his guns, were taken from him immediately upon turning himself in to the authorities. He had no money. He had no vehicle. No family. Only a handful of friends. And nowhere to go. He wasn’t going anywhere but prison, and he certainly wasn’t a flight risk! In fact, as I understood it, it had been Shawn who requested he be taken into custody as he wanted to get the clock ticking on the time he had to serve.

Well, he got what he wanted. He was taken into custody. That day, the clock began ticking. And for the first time since 1989, I had no idea where Shawn Merriman was, or if he was even safe. He seemed to just drop off the face of the planet into the deep, dark recesses of the criminal justice system and a jail somewhere. I didn’t know where he had gone; I didn’t know where he had been taken. There was no way to contact him. I was afraid for him, not for the first time, since beginning my unexpected life.

His incarceration had begun.

“That hunger of the flesh, that longing for ease, that terror of incarceration, that insistence on tribal honour being obeyed: all of that exists, and it exists everywhere.” (Ben Kingsley)

The Look of Love

Date: October 19, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

“When your world is full of strange arrangements
And gravity won’t pull you through
You know you’re missing out on something…
Yes one thing that turns this gray sky to blue
That’s the look, that’s the look, the look of love…
Who’s got the look? I don’t know the answer to that question.
Where’s the look? if I knew I would tell you
What’s the look? look for your information…
That’s the look, that’s the look, the look of love…
That’s the look, that’s the look, Be lucky in love
Look of Love.”
(ABC, “The Look of Love” lyrics, by Martin Fry, David Palmer, Steve Singleton, and Mark White)

I danced to that song in the 80s. And I guess I took “the look” for granted. I assumed everyone looked at their love with “the look of love.” It took my unexpected life to show me that isn’t always the case.

Just prior to my entire world falling apart, I saw the first of the “Twilight” movies and was particularly struck by the way Edward looked at Bella. I don’t know if everyone else noticed it, but I sure did, and it made me feel a little crazy: forty-something woman struck by the way an actor portraying a vampire simply LOOKED at another character in a story geared toward teenage girl fantasies and dreams of love and romance! I didn’t know why I noticed that specific aspect of the fictional relationship and why it had such an impact on me. Until March 18, 2009.

That day my then-husband, Shawn Merriman, sat me down and shattered my world. To anyone just joining us, that was the day he revealed his investment company, Market Street Advisors, was “a sham;” that he had been running a Ponzi scheme for 15 years; that he had already turned himself in to government authorities and anticipated being charged with crimes in the next week and incarcerated within the next 30 days for approximately the next 5-7 years; that all of our assets, money, home, vehicles and possessions had been seized by the government; and that I would be left alone to parent, provide for, and raise our four children.

That was also the day I realized why I found Edward’s intense look at Bella so compelling.

As part of his confession, my then-spouse expressed the guilt and shame he had lived with during the entire course of his Ponzi scheme. He felt so bad about what he had done, and so guilty, he said it became difficult for him to even look at me. “I haven’t looked you in the eye in years,” he revealed.

WHAT?

I argued with that. We had laughed, talked, joked, communicated and discussed things, ate dinner together, prayed together, interacted on a daily basis and lived as a happy, loving couple, married and raising our family for 20 years. He had looked at me all of the time! At least I’d thought he had. It seemed like he had. I was about to learn Shawn Merriman’s biggest deception of all relative to his life of crime.

It wasn’t the lies he’d told day in and day out, as he’d come home from work and report the usual business-related events of the day like all husbands do, conversations he’d had with this person or that client, stocks he had bought or sold. I found out he hadn’t bought or sold any stocks in years.

It wasn’t the fraudulent monthly statements he created and mailed to every investor, including me, each month. I found out he made all of those up.

It wasn’t the hypocrisy he exemplified to our children and the rest of the world, preaching one way of living and secretly choosing to practice another.

It was the way he had looked at me. Or intentionally had not looked at me.

He explained, “No, you only THINK I’ve looked at you. But I haven’t. Not once. I have looked at the tip of your nose every single time I’ve looked at you, and when I do that, you think I’m looking at you and can’t tell I’m not looking at you, but I promise you, I haven’t looked in your eyes in years.”

How long?

Most of our children had been born during the years he hadn’t looked me in the eye. I couldn’t count the number of events we’d shared, the memories we’d made and the daily expressions of love he had uttered to me…all while never looking at me. And I’d never even seen it. I had never known.

How could I not have been able to see that my husband was looking only at the tip of my nose instead of my eyes? How did no one else notice he didn’t look them in the eye either? And actually, how did I never know there were people out there who intentionally didn’t look people in the eye?

In a way, it was a fitting end to a relationship that came to a screeching halt due to crime, betrayal and other wrongs perpetrated by one man.

“I wanted a perfect ending. Now I’ve learned, the hard way, that some poems don’t rhyme, and some stories don’t have a clear beginning, middle and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what’s going to happen next.” (Gilda Radner)

What’s Your Language?

Date: October 12, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

“French is the language that turns dirt into romance.” (Stephen King)

For anyone as clueless as I was, let me teach you about communication. The language of love, to be exact.

Although I had a happy marriage for 20 years (until it ended due to the criminal activity of Shawn Merriman and the Ponzi scheme he perpetrated) knowledge of the language of love is something I was never privy to–until I became single.

When I was single the first time, in the 1980s, I remember the basic questions every guy asked when you met him: What’s your name? Where are you from? What’s your major? The next time I was single, last year in 2009 and in 2010, the questions had changed to: How long were you married? Why did you get divorced? What’s your love language?

Twenty years. That’s complicated and a long story, but here goes. My WHAT?

Maybe I’m the only married woman who was never in touch with her language of love, because she didn’t realize there was such a thing, but there’s actually a book about it called “The 5 Love Languages” by Gary Chapman. The men I dated introduced me to it. After a few dates, I could converse with men about it and answer their question, although I’d never read the book. (I waited until after I got engaged to Bachelor #5 to read the book. Cross another item off my list of over 30 things I need to accomplish before I marry. Now I think I’ve achieved…three!)

Just wanted to give you a heads up about what you’re going to need to know if you’re going to live an unexpected single life today. You’ve got to know about it so you can not only answer the preliminary dating questions you’ll be asked, but so you can communicate with the single people you socialize with. The married people I’ve introduced to it have found it interesting, as well, so…what’s your language?

“I personally believe we developed language because of our deep inner need to complain.” (Jane Wagner)

Fortune

Date: October 11, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

“Fortune knocks at every man’s door once in a life, but in a good many cases the man is in a neighboring saloon and does not hear her.” (Mark Twain)

Living an unexpected life, I can’t help but sometimes compare the “then” to the now.

Here’s one: fortune cookies.

When I was married, my former spouse had a hostility toward certain things. (And of course, criminal tendencies that have now been revealed or not, as with all people, it’s never what you expect.) Shawn Merriman felt anger toward fortune cookies. The sight of them on the tray at the end of an Asian meal upset him. To have someone read their fortune out loud from the scrap of paper they removed from the crisp cookie shell made him mad. I believe his venom toward the end-of-meal treat stemmed from his mother’s propensity to consult real fortune tellers for prophecies about her life, and that she made plans and lived according to the information they divined–something he completely disagreed with.

Whatever the reason for his hostility, and for the sake of peace and harmony in our relationship, home and family, I gave them up. I didn’t look at or read a fortune from a fortune cookie, for most of the 20 years I was married. Then I got divorced.

A year ago my sister came to town and took my daughter and me to a Chinese restaurant for lunch. When the meal was over, the fortune cookies came. My sister grabbed one, opened hers and read it. My daughter and I did the same. That small event was so huge to me, I recorded it in my journal–not as a defiance of my former spouse and the old life I had lived, as evidence of things from the life of Andrea Christensen I was embracing again–and the crazy single woman I had become. I hadn’t read a fortune cookie in decades.

My fortune cookie revealed, “Someone from your past will happily enter your life.”

So I saved it.

I even put it in my wallet!

I knew I was crazy, and my behavior toward the fortune cookie’s prediction proved it.

Things changed, again, with Bachelor #5. He gave me an entirely new perspective, even with fortune cookies. He not only reads cookie fortunes, he adds certain phrases to the end of them as he reads them out loud, and laughs! His fortunes have opened up whole new realms of possibilities for me. Lol.

Speaking of fortunes, here are some helpful ones for the unexpected, single life. Wisdom I offer to all from a knowledgeable and trusted source: the fortune cookie.

“Every man is a volume if you know how to read him.” (The problem is knowing the language they speak, as evidenced by the international set of bachelors AND by the love language every bachelor speaks–but that is another blog post in itself!)

“Your secret admirer will soon appear.” (Just watch out for stalkers!)

“You are surrounded by fortune hunters.” (That is true for women AND men. I’ll never forget the man who told me he didn’t mind that I had four kids, “As long as they’re provided for by someone else.”)

“Behind an able man, there are always other able men.” (Helpful to remember as you’re looking for your Mr. Awesome and haven’t found him yet. Don’t give up. If he was out there for me, he is out there for you!)

And last but not least: “Answer just what your heart prompts you.” (Useful for you-know-when; THE moment; THE PROPOSAL.)

In fairy tales and real life.

“Life itself is the most wonderful fairy tale of all.” (Hans Christian Andersen)

Lives

Date: October 7, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

“A woman hath nine lives like a cat.” (Proverb)

Someone joked with me that I’ve lived many lives. As soon as I thought about it, I realized they were right:

I lived my childhood life, prior to 1986, when my dad died unexpectedly in a plane crash.

I lived my young adult years, another life, as the daughter of a widowed, single mother.

I got engaged, married, and lived my adult life as the wife of Shawn Merriman, married without children.

I also lived my life as the wife of Shawn Merriman, married with children; a stay-at-home mother.

It seemed like another lifetime, but was really only four months, when I lived a life as the legal wife of Shawn Merriman; filing divorce paperwork and waiting as the request to dissolve my marriage was finalized, wrapping up the details of my old life, and trying to prepare for my new and unexpected one as a result of the crimes and Ponzi scheme my husband, unbeknownst to me, had perpetrated.

I lived another life as a divorced, single mother of four children, working full-time.

And then I got engaged to Bachelor #5. He suggested we marry in September. It seemed so sudden.

I wrote a list of everything I needed to accomplish before a wedding. There were 32 items on my list. Nearly three months later I looked at my list. I had completed just two of 32 tasks (neither of which was a dress to wear when I married or any other wedding detail) and the September deadline was looming. Add to that some delays we couldn’t negotiate and work around, and Bachelor #5 and I realized September wasn’t going to be a month we heard wedding bells pealing in our behalf.

Lets just say marrying in your 40s, blending eight children and two families, combining two adult lives, and everything else that is part of a remarriage is slightly more complicated (and takes a lot more time) than getting married when you’re young, carefree…and in your 20s!

The good news? As Bachelor #5 pointed out, “There won’t be ANYTHING we don’t know about each other by the time we finally marry. There won’t be ANY surprises!” (I love that he was looking for the good in the situation, by the way.) But he was right.

We’ve had some interesting engagement adventures for sure. Stay tuned. You see, September has come and gone. And although I hate to ruin the story I must confess: I’m not married yet. My engagement to Bachelor #5 seems to be lasting its own lifetime! Add it, as another life, to my list. Seven lives so far and I’m only 43 years old.

At this point, I’m hoping women actually have MORE than the nine lives cats are reputed to enjoy.

Because thanks to my unexpected life, I think I’m going to need them.

Aren’t we all?

Therapy Is Kinda Like…

Date: September 24, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

“Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and wonder how I do these things. I can embarrass myself so badly that I literally get a hot prickle down the back of my neck.” (Daisy Donovan)

That used to be me thanks to some unforgettable experiences, like once having my skirt fall off me as I stood talking to a man, and a few other embarrassing moments which should probably be blog posts in and of themselves someday. But my unexpected life, and the criminal behavior of my former spouse related to his Ponzi scheme, the public downfall of my family and my divorce, all took care of redefining what humiliation and embarrassment mean to me these days. I don’t sweat the small stuff, like “embarrassing moments” anymore.

However, that evening, sitting in the counseling office, realizing I had dated the therapist’s brothers and NOT married them and was now seeking counsel to avoid a second divorce if Bachelor #5 and I tied the knot, I fought a slight feeling of mortification. “PLEASE don’t tell your brothers I’m divorced and seeking remarriage counseling from you,” I begged. He assured me he wouldn’t say a word.

However, because he wasn’t really a stranger anymore, for some reason I felt a little more comfortable with him and opened up more. After the session ended Bachelor #5 commented on how interesting it was that I was so close-mouthed toward a stranger, yet when I made a connection with him, I was a lot more willing to talk. (Just one more thing to love about Bachelor #5. He “gets” me. I’ve had more epiphanies about myself, things I do and why I do them, since knowing him, than I feel like I had the entire rest of my previous life. He’s observant, smart, and puts 2 and 2 together to equal four– when I don’t even realize there’s an equation to be solved.)

As we left the appointment, I couldn’t believe what a small world the realm of counseling made it. I was filled with disbelief about my connection to the counselor, too. Bachelor #5 simply replied, “Well, what do you expect when you’ve dated, or attempted to date, the entire world?” And he laughed.

“Being in therapy is great. I spend an hour just talking about myself. It’s kinda like being the guy on a date.” (Caroline Rhea)

With Odds Like Mine

Date: September 23, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

“…I’ve never been to therapy so there’s probably a lot of stuff about myself that I don’t know.” (Al Yankovic)

I didn’t know what to expect from my counseling session.

Believe it or not, I’ve always hated sharing the private details of my life (until my unexpected life–when I had no choice, the public nature of my former spouse’s Ponzi scheme and crimes took care of my privacy issues for me.) But I went. With Bachelor #5.

He tells me I wasn’t overly open or friendly to the counselor at first. He said my behavior gave him serious doubts as to the productivity of such an effort, but Bachelor #5 gave it his best shot anyway. He was open, willing to discuss all types of things with a virtual stranger, humble and accepting of advice the counselor offered. His comfort in the discussion gave me courage to share some of my thoughts. A little bit.

And then the premarital counseling session took an unexpected turn.

Toward the end, the therapist shared his background. And wouldn’t you know it? He was from the same hometown I am–Grand Junction, Colorado. Although he was several years older than me, we’d gone to the same high school; had some of the same friends…and then I started thinking about my connections there, his last name, and had a sinking feeling that I actually knew the therapist, too, or at least of him. I asked, ‘You don’t have younger brothers, do you?”

He confirmed that he was the oldest of five boys and actually had FOUR younger brothers.

That’s what I was afraid of.

I knew who he was. I knew (and loved) his parents, especially his mom. Because I had dated not just one, but TWO, of his younger brothers!

What are the odds of that? To end up unexpectedly single, living an unexpected life, in a new state, fall in love with a man, go to the “extra” effort of participating in remarriage counseling, and out of all counselors in the world, I end up with the one not just from my hometown, but whose brothers I dated?

I’m starting to think I should move to Las Vegas and take up gambling.

“Las Vegas: all the amenities of modern society in a habitat unfit to grow a tomato.” (Jason Love)

Ring Shopping Part II

Date: September 19, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

It’s funny, the things you forget.

I remember when I had my 4th child, I was a lot more laid back in my preparations for him than I had been for my 1st, 2nd and even my 3rd children! About two weeks before he was due, I looked at my daughter and said, “We’d better get to the store and get some things we need before the baby comes!” She and I got to share in the fun of buying the things we’d need for a baby. We did it in one store, in one shopping trip, and when we got home and had hauled everything in, I was ready.

I had everything I needed for the new arrival. It was my 4th child, I knew what I was doing and after the shopping trip felt completely prepared. Until my daughter, in 5th grade at the time, looked at me and asked, “But Mom, if you have a baby don’t you need…diapers?” I had COMPLETELY forgotten about diapers!

That’s a little how I was with the whole willingness to marry Bachelor #5 thing.

I had finally told him it was time, but I had forgotten, completely, about the engagement/wedding ring portion of the ritual. When Bachelor #5 mentioned it, reminded me about it, I honestly believed I didn’t need a ring. I didn’t want one.

Divorce devastates many people, financially, and I didn’t want to add to anyone’s financial burden. Plus, I’d had a ring the first time I was married. I’d worn it and put my heart, soul, life, love and the finest of all of my efforts into my marriage and my husband, had thought he was doing the same and that we were close to blissfully on track for eternity–and it had ended. Unexpectedly. The icing on the cake of that failure was that not only did the marriage end, but the government took my wedding ring away because it was an “upgrade” (not the original wedding ring) when they seized the assets we’d acquired due to my ex-husband’s participation in a Ponzi scheme.

I didn’t want or need another ring.

But Bachelor #5 insisted. I told him to just go get anything and I’d be fine with it. But Bachelor #5 didn’t want me to “be fine” with it. He wanted me to love my ring, and said he wouldn’t have a clue what I would like or want without my input, and patiently endured the first ring shopping experience in which the only thing I decided was that I hate ring shopping…and I didn’t want a diamond ring.

“We do not know what we want, but we are ready to bite somebody to get it” (Will Rogers)

Ask Bachelor #5. I wasn’t the friendliest, most eager customer the poor sales clerk at the first jewelry store had ever tried to sell a ring to. In less than 10 minutes, in fact, I’m pretty sure it may have been less than five minutes, he stepped away and brought out the big gun: the store manager. An experienced woman. She calmly took over. And I came to a decision.

I wanted a band.

“As good as I am, I’m nothing without my band.” (Steven Tyler)

Shock…And A Grin

Date: September 15, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

“Crimes sometimes shock us too much; vices almost always too little.” (Augustus Hare)

Night before last I was up until midnight, hanging out and chatting with my oldest. Talking about anything and everything EXCEPT the sentencing of his father which took place yesterday. But it had to have been on his mind because he didn’t seem to want to be alone with his thoughts; I sensed he needed someone to talk to.

When he went to bed, I checked on my 10-year-old and found him crying in his bed, worried about the pending sentencing of his father. I offered words of encouragement, tried to help him look at the bright side and attempted to cheer him up–until nearly 1:30 a.m. It broke my heart and I realized in that moment, regardless of the outcome of the sentencing and the remorse my former husband feels for what he has done to so many people, there are some things he just won’t quite understand. He hasn’t been around to witness it firsthand; he has been incarcerated. He hasn’t had to look into the devastated faces of our children. He didn’t have to (or get to) watch them live with pain He caused. He hasn’t had to help them pick up the pieces and struggle to carry on and create a new life when the going was tougher than any of us ever imagined.

But, I sent everyone to school, to press forward in their lives and with their responsibilities despite the challenging circumstances–and I went to work, too, awaiting word of the sentencing outcome. Looking back, I think I worked all day under an inordinate amount of stress. I don’t think I even realized the stress I was operating under until I got a phone call near the end of the day. A Colorado friend was calling to report the outcome of my former spouse’s sentencing hearing for operating a Ponzi scheme/stealing over $20 million.

I anticipated, based on the last collect call I received from my former spouse, that the hearing would take two hours. Instead, more than eight hours later my friend called, crying, to report the maximum sentence had been handed down in a courtroom whose atmosphere was so tense and hateful she felt sick to her stomach.

I don’t know what more I can say about the importance of choosing to heal instead of hate, but I love what Martin Luther King Jr. said: “Have we not come to such an impasse in the modern world that we must love our enemies – or else? The chain reaction of evil – hate begetting hate, wars producing more wars – must be broken, or else we shall be plunged into the dark abyss of annihilation.” (Martin Luther King, Jr.) He was absolutely right.

So as my friend recounted the events of the day, I really only heard a few words: The maximum, 12 1/2 years.

How was I going to tell my children?

I don’t know what I wanted the outcome to be; I don’t know what I expected. I have only prayed that I will be o.k. with whatever the judge decides and that somehow, I will be able to help my children be o.k. with it too. But to hear the words, “151 months,” “12 1/2 years” shocked me. It sent me into a very unprofessional, uncontrollable crying-in-the-workplace episode; the likes of which I never expected or imagined.

My poor co-workers. I’ve held it together for over a year. I’ve never done anything like that in public that I can recall. But today was so unexpected. The unstoppable wail of a woman in shock, broken-hearted, traumatized by the senseless destruction and tragedy unleashed on so many by the terrible choices of one man. The grief of a mother knowing the next time her teenage son saw his father that son would be almost 30 years old. The cry of a single mother trying to hold her little family together, knowing she had be the one to share the bad news and see pain in a little boy’s eyes, again, when he learned the fate of his father.

If I ever think I’m having a bad day…remind me of March 18, 2009, or September 14, 2010.

Shaking, somehow I managed to drive all the way home, bawling, and tried to pull myself together enough to face my children. To break their hearts one more time. I’ll never forget the dread I felt as I pulled up to my home, knowing what I had to go inside and do. Break my children’s hearts.

I spoke with my daughter first. I told her the outcome and she accepted it calmly, with grace and dignity (unlike her mother.)

I sat my 10-year-old down and prepared him for the news. He was happy and smiling until that moment then a serious expression came to his face as I shared the events of the day. Instead of the devastation I anticipated, he chose to look at the bright side, “Well, if he has already served 13 months, and he gets time off for good behavior, he’ll be free to see us when I’m only in college! That’s not so bad!”

Stoic and optimistic. All on his own. I could not have been more proud of him than I was in that moment. And despite the terrible struggle coming to terms with his father’s choices has been for him, I was amazed at how my sweet son has grown over the past 18 months. If I can only help him realize that if he will choose to handle all of the setbacks that come his way like today’s, he is destined for greatness–regardless of, or perhaps because of, his adversity.

My oldest son got the news on his phone before he even got home. When I sat him down to tell him, he already knew. Everything was what he had expected, and he is to the point in his life where he is actually grateful for all that he has learned as a result of all that he has passed through. He can see how he has been blessed as a result of his trials, so he tried to laugh about it–revealing he and his sister had placed bets on the outcome and he had gotten out of doing the dishes this week!

I guess everyone deals with shock, grief and trauma in their own way. Who’s to say which way is right or wrong? Certainly not me. But as one co-worker encouraged when I was in the throes of my unexpected reaction and trying to apologize for it, “I’d worry about you if you didn’t react.”

Note to self: one “secret” to the unexpected life is to let yourself feel so you can heal. (Just remember: no wallowing!)

We did that yesterday, each of us in our own way, and as I sent my children to bed each had a smile on their face, which brought one to mine. We’ve survived another unexpected development in our unexpected life…and we came out grinning.

“It’s easy to grin when your ships come in and you’ve got the stock market beat, but the man worth while is the man who can smile when his pants are too tight in the seat.”

We’re going to be o.k.

And now, back to the chick-flick portion of my unexpected life. What’s coming just might be worthy of a grin, too.