Author: Cassidy Doolittle
Today, I joined a club I was absolutely certain I’d never become a member of:
Today, I joined a club I was absolutely certain I’d never become a member of:
“Adult Children of Divorced
Parents.”
My parent’s marriage had seen its share of good and tough times,
but they always pushed through. They
always turned the corner. But not this time.
And until the judge’s gavel fell eleven hours ago, I childishly
hoped it was all a bad dream.
But in an instant today, many things changed that I didn’t want:
-The big, noisy, family Christmas gatherings on the farm will
never happen
-My boys will only know my parents as separate people in
different states
-I have to start from scratch as far as what “normal” looks like
with family
-My identity has been shaken as I think back on memories:
Crawling in between them as a child during thunderstorms. Crawling in between them as a teenager
squeaking in before curfew. Seeing them
in the stands at my track meets.
Watching them laughing loudly
while playing cribbage. Spying them kiss
in front of the kitchen sink.
I wanted my kids to crawl between them during thunderstorms. To look up and see them cheering from the
stands. To gross out their grandsons
with unapologetic kisses. To tell them
how they fought...and won...for their marriage.
I wanted miraculous harmony waved over all of us with the sweep of some
Cosmic Magic Wand.
But none of that will happen now.
And as I sit and think about all of the components, relationships,
timing, and outcomes that led up to this day..something dawns deeply upon my
grieving soul, as if the Holy Spirit pulls me from the sadness of this day to
the beautiful reality of all the incredible things this journey of marital
demise has birthed in me.
A strong, unshakable
marriage:
Both my parents have talked to Steve and I about their regrets,
unhealthy patterns, and mistakes as they encouraged us to not repeat them and
instead put our marriage at the forefront of any other relationship. To compromise...laugh...invest...speak...listen...pray. Their hindsight has helped make our current
and future marriage so much more secure.
Cemented Sisterhood:
My two sisters and I have experienced a bonded friendship,
camaraderie, and growth that would never have occurred to this depth and level
had we not all gone through what we did as a trio. I have gained two best friends as we
journeyed through this process together.
Proactive Parenting:
We have learned much about how to glean the good from our
upbringings as we parent, and do our best to seek wisdom from God and others to
change what didn’t work. It is hard to
change imprinted patterns. It is messy
to mulch part of your family tree to grow something new and healthy from the
debris. But it is good. And both my parents
celebrate the changes we’ve made and cheer us on as we raise our boys
differently.
Deep, Unmoving Faith
This I would count as the most valuable prize from the
fallout. In all my life, I have never
trusted, depended, loved, pleaded with, clung to, wrestled with, rejoiced in,
wept to, or praised God more. He used
this specific process of pain to sharpen my senses and pull me from the dulling
monotony of suburban life to recognize His perfection, constancy, power, and
unconditional love.
Did I ever wish for my parents to divorce? No.
But has God used it for unprecedented growth, generational change, and
deep joy in my life? Absolutely,
unequivocally “Yes.” And for that, I lift my hands in praise to
Him as never before, and thank Him for this pain.
I will never be the same.
And thank God that I will never be the same.
Author: Cassidy Doolittle
Cassidy is married to Steve and spends her day wrangling their two handsome little boys, Jake and Andy. The oldest of three girls, the daughter of a farmer, and a former nurse in the psychiatric ward, it's safe to say that Cassidy has almost seen it all. Cassidy and her husband Steve live in Fort Worth, TX. Cassidy also writes for and serves as the director of author and relations for the SozoWomen blog. To read more from Cassidy please visit http://sozowomen.com.
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