Chaos,  Free,  God's Pursuit of Me,  HomeLife,  Story

divorce diaries. entry 5.

 

I’ve almost forgotten what the routine Used To Be.

Almost forgotten what it was like to grocery shop with a partner.  The Divide and The Conquer.

I’ve kind of grown accustomed to being The Only One.

Some days it almost feels as if there never was a Before.  (Some days.)

Some days I just groove and strut along and forget I was not always in charge of every meal and all the yays and all the nays.

And then some days it feels as if I am living with a severed limb.  The ghost pains.  The crushing weight of No One With Whom To Confer.

Should this be allowed?  Was she being disrespectful right then?  Should I make that giant financial decision?  Can we afford this?  Is this what we should do for our family this season?  What do you think about this math curriculum?

It’s the dichotomy.

The Being Fine Alone.  The Making It Work.

And.  Of course.  There’s still

The Dysfunction.
The Black Hole.
The What Should Have Been.
The What Is Now.
The Emotional Fall Out.

How does one live in that duplicity?

It’s walking with a limp.

It’s a Broken, that’s for certain.

But yet.  But God.

I don’t feel hopeless.  I am not without joy.  This life is most definitely NOT all burden and no benefit.

We rode bikes together today, the kids and I.

At the front end of the adventure, our bikes – after a too long rest in our friend’s basement – all had a myriad of flat tires and loose training wheels and wiggly parts.  The fine fellow at the local fire station fixed us all up and we were able to hit the trail with air and smooth rides.  But one family member had a rough go at the beginning.  Focus a little off, fear a lot looming.  Memories of a previous ride where she had fallen and a strong and loud desire to stop before we began because what if it happened again?  What if she fell again?

We rode side by side and I encouraged and admonished and lost my cool and tried again.  Finally (oh, finally!) she was back in the swing of it, peddling and laughing and apologizing and having fun.

I reminded her, “You can do hard things!”   And I asked her the question I ask daily (some days, hourly) – “How do we get better at doing hard things?”

She gave the only answer our family will accept, “By doing hard things.”

Life is hard, people.  It’s so chock full of Hard Things.

And we get all these chances to practice doing the hard things that can make us better at doing the next hard thing.

It’s a broken beautiful.  It’s both.  For sure, it is both.  Broken.  And beautiful.  All day long.

 

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5 Comments

  • Sara

    I like that family mantra. It may just become our new words…
    It reminds me of what a friend said a few years after she gave birth to extremely premature twins and 4 years later her 37 year old husband died of cancer:
    I could never have been big enough to choose the Hard but I don’t want to be the person I was before the Hard.

    • laceykeigley

      Wow.

      That’s an incredible thing for her to say. For anyone to say.
      I need to think about that. I know, at some level, that it is true for me too. But goodness, that’s still a heavy load to ponder.

  • Shane

    We went to Shaolin temple once to watch the Kung Fu display. Fu Xia pointed out the potholes made as students ram their foot down against the pavement to make it stronger and to perfect their kick. “The pavement is hard, but they do it a million times until their legs are ready.”
    Whenever we reach hard moments in our journey, I remind him. This is your Kung Fu.