Happiest day for an 8-years old (Nance Ortberg) divorce's children
One of the things that John will do sometimes when we’re at dinner with other people is at the end of the meal he’ll ask a question, something that’s kind of provocative, to get us past the superficiality of the conversation into some meatier issues. I always enjoy those times. I like those conversations.
One night about three years ago, John and I were at somebody’s home in Chicago. There were six couples around the table, and John said, “What was the happiest day of your life?” It was a pretty easy question. I remember as soon as he asked it, my first thought so surprised me that I remember thinking, “I can’t say anything yet. I’ve got to think about this, because this can’t possibly be right.” And I was uncharacteristically quiet while other people answered the question.
I was also struck, not only by how odd my answer seemed to me, but also the emotion that it carried with it. And I thought, “If I don’t keep quiet for awhile, I am going to cry.” I am not a big crier and didn’t really want to do it at the dinner party, so I just sat there and listened. The guy next to me started off and talked about the day he came home from Vietnam, and I thought, “Oh, great, how do you top that?” People talked about the day their children were born, the day they got married. When everybody else was done and it was my turn, I said, “It was when I was eight years old.”
This was back in the 60’s, and my parents were separated and moving towards a divorce. I remember that year very vividly because I was the only kid in my school from first grade through eighth grade whose parents were separated, and I knew that because when I would walk down the halls the teachers would point at me and say, “That’s the one whose parents are getting a divorce.” It was so unusual in those days.
But that was not painful at all compared to what I was dealing with at home, where I would see my dad only every other weekend. I loved my dad. My dad was an alcoholic, but he was the nicest alcoholic you ever wanted to meet. And over time, at the end of his life, he made a decision for Christ. My mom was a typical co-dependent. I was an only child. And the only time I saw my dad was when he would take me for the weekend and then bring me home. My dad would stand on one side of the screen door at the kitchen and my mom on the other side, and they would fight through the screen door. And I would stand in the middle of them and try to get them to stop.
Then I would run into the other room and turn the TV up really loud so I didn’t have to hear them. And I would go back and forth, and I was so sad.
I got dropped off at school before any of the other kids did, and I had a teacher in third grade who was a Christ follower. She would let me come in her classroom in the morning, and she would pray with me. I am sure she wanted me to pray that God’s will would be done, but I was eight years old, and I didn’t really care what God’s will was. The only thing I wanted, and the only thing I would let her pray, was that my parents would get back together.
One night in May, my mom took me out to dinner and my dad joined us. It was the first time in a year that I had seen them sit together and not fight. Somewhere in the conversation, my mom said to me, “What would you think about your dad moving back home?” And I said, “Tonight?” And they said, “No, not tonight, but in a few days. What would you think about that?” I said, “I’d love it.” And the next morning I ran into my teacher’s room and told her what had happened, and it was without a doubt the happiest day of my life.
I don’t say that to tell you that you ought to stay together for the sake of the kids. I don’t know if that’s the right thing for you to do. All I know is that as an eight-year-old kid it changed my life that I had both of my parents in my home. They kept fighting. They didn’t have a perfect marriage, but they made strides and efforts and they changed and they grew.
I know my little wild heart well enough that I shudder to think what I would have done in high school and college had my dad not been a permanent presence in my house. It was the most powerful decision that the two of them made that affected me. It gave me a sense of security and of knowing myself that I don’t think I would have had otherwise. There are so many reasons to fight for your marriage. So many reasons to say, “One more time, I will forgive. I will love. I will have a conversation.” And I pray that you do it today and this week.
One night about three years ago, John and I were at somebody’s home in Chicago. There were six couples around the table, and John said, “What was the happiest day of your life?” It was a pretty easy question. I remember as soon as he asked it, my first thought so surprised me that I remember thinking, “I can’t say anything yet. I’ve got to think about this, because this can’t possibly be right.” And I was uncharacteristically quiet while other people answered the question.
I was also struck, not only by how odd my answer seemed to me, but also the emotion that it carried with it. And I thought, “If I don’t keep quiet for awhile, I am going to cry.” I am not a big crier and didn’t really want to do it at the dinner party, so I just sat there and listened. The guy next to me started off and talked about the day he came home from Vietnam, and I thought, “Oh, great, how do you top that?” People talked about the day their children were born, the day they got married. When everybody else was done and it was my turn, I said, “It was when I was eight years old.”
This was back in the 60’s, and my parents were separated and moving towards a divorce. I remember that year very vividly because I was the only kid in my school from first grade through eighth grade whose parents were separated, and I knew that because when I would walk down the halls the teachers would point at me and say, “That’s the one whose parents are getting a divorce.” It was so unusual in those days.
But that was not painful at all compared to what I was dealing with at home, where I would see my dad only every other weekend. I loved my dad. My dad was an alcoholic, but he was the nicest alcoholic you ever wanted to meet. And over time, at the end of his life, he made a decision for Christ. My mom was a typical co-dependent. I was an only child. And the only time I saw my dad was when he would take me for the weekend and then bring me home. My dad would stand on one side of the screen door at the kitchen and my mom on the other side, and they would fight through the screen door. And I would stand in the middle of them and try to get them to stop.
Then I would run into the other room and turn the TV up really loud so I didn’t have to hear them. And I would go back and forth, and I was so sad.
I got dropped off at school before any of the other kids did, and I had a teacher in third grade who was a Christ follower. She would let me come in her classroom in the morning, and she would pray with me. I am sure she wanted me to pray that God’s will would be done, but I was eight years old, and I didn’t really care what God’s will was. The only thing I wanted, and the only thing I would let her pray, was that my parents would get back together.
One night in May, my mom took me out to dinner and my dad joined us. It was the first time in a year that I had seen them sit together and not fight. Somewhere in the conversation, my mom said to me, “What would you think about your dad moving back home?” And I said, “Tonight?” And they said, “No, not tonight, but in a few days. What would you think about that?” I said, “I’d love it.” And the next morning I ran into my teacher’s room and told her what had happened, and it was without a doubt the happiest day of my life.
I don’t say that to tell you that you ought to stay together for the sake of the kids. I don’t know if that’s the right thing for you to do. All I know is that as an eight-year-old kid it changed my life that I had both of my parents in my home. They kept fighting. They didn’t have a perfect marriage, but they made strides and efforts and they changed and they grew.
I know my little wild heart well enough that I shudder to think what I would have done in high school and college had my dad not been a permanent presence in my house. It was the most powerful decision that the two of them made that affected me. It gave me a sense of security and of knowing myself that I don’t think I would have had otherwise. There are so many reasons to fight for your marriage. So many reasons to say, “One more time, I will forgive. I will love. I will have a conversation.” And I pray that you do it today and this week.
posted by mar13 at
10:23 AM
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