Long Silence

I've been stuck for awhile. I'm fighting a battle, and my main objective is to shield my kids from even sensing there is a war. I'm worn & scarred & trying to put on a brave face. But the ache isn't leaving. It's here to stay.

Losing my first husband was traumatic. It rocked my whole reality, but it had a definitive ending. He was gone. By his own choice. For good. The shell of him remained, and I had to reacquaint myself with his new person - the one that had no love for me. I said goodbye, I grieved, I healed.

But my boys? This loss was not my choice, nor theirs. I lose pieces of them bit by bit. Week by week. There's no ending to this loss. It's not a full loss, so I strive to be grateful for the sawed-in-half life I have with them. It's better than nothing. It's also so much less than my heart longs for. It's so much less than they deserve.

The only rhythm in my sweet blended family is the transition. Constant detox mode. Ever come home from a vacation and notice that everyone is beat? That you need a day or two to readjust? That space is where we live. Someone is always coming and going. One child, then four, then three, then one....how about two? My brain is constantly reminding me how many of my babies are with me, and which ones are gone.

Of course, they are not *gone*. They are with their other parent. I'm grateful that they have both parents, I really am. But when that other parent has polar opposite values, beliefs, narratives of family? Building & shaping these precious children becomes an extremely technical dance. I'm trying to untangle lies while honoring the source of the untruth. I'm trying to win without making anyone else lose. I'm trying to stop the bleeding with a smile on my face.

Don't misunderstand me - our exes are not the enemy. They are lost. When someone gets lost in the mountains during a winter storm, you pray they get rescued. You don't focus on or punish them for being lost, even when it may have been foolish for them to wander off by themselves. We pray regularly for the love & blessing of God to chase them down and restore them as His children.

The enemy is the one who lied to them in the first place. The one who convinced them that marriage isn't worth fighting for. That the next relationship, job, car, whatever, will be the thing that finally makes them whole. That same enemy whispers lies into the ears of our children. He has no power in my home. But every time the boys return, I'm picking off his fiery arrows as they walk through the door. The smell of the smoke has made me ill.

How am I supposed to do this? How do I fight back the darkness and have energy left over to build a life? Some days I nail it, but there is a steep cost. Most days find me weary. It's time I stare it in the face and call it what it is. No need to church it up and put a bow on it. My heart is broken. Pieces of my broken heart walk around, in the form of my sons, in places I cannot see, cannot reach. I have had to release them unnaturally early, and my full being rails against it. But this is my reality. This is our life. I'm in awe that God has chosen me to carry such an unimaginable burden. I can't believe He trusts me so much. And even if my heart is broken for the rest of my life, it will be open to all the connection and grief and love it can bear.