Twelve years ago I was in the middle of a set of three of the hardest nights of my life. I had the sweetest 3 year old little boy and a precious 10 week old little girl. Such babies. So dependent on mom. {me = I knew I was incapable of taking care of them. It was the beginning of a new level of depending on the Heavenly Father} I was so tired – emotionally, physically, and mentally. Spiritually, I was alive. My relationship with Christ was the only reason I functioned. With knowledge, love and support I knew it was time to request my husband either get help or move out until (he) got the help he needed. {It was appropriate for him to move out, we were living in an apartment attached to my parents’ home.} It was awful. I believed given the chance (he) would leave, without much thought {except we were “his” possessions, so there was a slight chance he would choose our family}. My parents believed there would be reconciliation. I wasn’t so sure.
Twelve years ago last night & tonight, the kids and I were at a safe house. I’d spent the day learning about domestic violence. I was blown away. I had no idea. Even now I think of it as someone else’s story. I don’t remember those days as part of my life. Our life. If it wasn’t for the fact just remembering the night has my heart racing and there are snatches of memory (that I know there aren’t photos of), I would think I was reading about someone else. Honestly, I don’t want to remember it. Often I don’t want to believe it is my story. To this day, I struggle saying the words. I have actually asked the Lord to remove the bad memories for both my son & I from those years. Blessedly, He has answered with a ‘yes’. Unfortunately, that also means I don’t remember a lot from those years.
We were separated for three years. For three years, the kids and I had no protection. Three years of knowing each time we met, he could take the kids and law enforcement could do not do anything about it. We met once a week, in a public place, for 2 hours. It was the set up he wanted. The cops were called once. The Lord watched over us and protected us mightily. Two and a half years later he filed for divorce; he’d decided to move on. He wanted custody, 50-50. {Can I just say, I feel sick writing this out.}
It was during those years I gained the head knowledge and lots of heart knowledge practice time to get it cemented in my thick skull, “my” children are not mine; they are His, on loan to me. From Him. For a season.
I have only been entrusted with them to do my best teaching and showing them His ways, for the length of time He deems necessary. With no warranty. It really has been a freeing way to parent. A good grounding point for making decisions. And, oh, the guarantee is like no other – He promises He has a plan, a good plan, for their future. I had already claimed that verse for the three of us. It is what has gotten me through many, many situations.
Three months after I was served the divorce papers was the day of court. The day a judge would decide my future, the two most important people in my life and I would have no control or say. It was up to the judge. The judge was used of God. I was almost incapable of walking I felt so sick. Again, the Lord watched over us and protected us mightily. Because of decisions (he) had made; the status-quo he had set up; the money he had taken when he left; and I had not pushed for my rights or extra “he owes me” anything; even though the judge did not agree with my homeschooling plans — the judge gave me sole legal and physical custody. Just that fast (I honestly have no idea a time frame) everything changed. It was now be a federal offense if (he) were to try to take them. The decision was almost unheard of, my attorney was shocked, but I know Who really provided those stipulations. Since then? we haven’t seen (him) in almost eight years, nor heard from (him) in the last six; yet, because of the custody orders, I am able to make decisions for our family – we are able to function as a sole parent family. We don’t have much in the way of finances, but we live incredibly rich lives.
We have had hard years. Nothing about being a single parent is easy. I’m not sure why this is so heavy on my heart to be posted now, this year. I hope and pray it is to help someone reading. I don’t believe I have shared this much before and know I haven’t in any other public setting. I’d say about 15-20 others know the ‘why’ of me being divorced, and other than 2 or 3 people, they were the ones who helped and supported me through the process.