When Stones Crack

I was reading Frank Turk's article on marriage the other day and it brought up memories of my divorce a few years ago. It was a dark dark time in my life, and I was amazed at the time that two Christians like us got divorced. It wasn't supposed to happen, but it did. One of the things I have noticed in the years since the divorce is the affect it has had on my children. My children to this day struggle in their significant relationships. My married daughter and her husband often threaten each other with divorce, my oldest daughter and my college age son both cannot seem to have relationships last. They both admit to a fear of a deep relationship.

One of the statistics I read about during the time of my divorce was that divorce seemed to affect boys at about the age of 12-13 the hardest. That was the age of my son during my divorce. I have only seen my son publicly cry a couple of times from the time he was about 8. He was a very private child. One of the times was when I told him that his dad and I were separating. It broke my heart to see the tears course down his face. My oldest daughter was in Seattle going to college and my two youngest children stayed with their dad most of the time because of where they went to school. I placed my children daily on the altar and my heart was broken for them and for all of us. God brings healing in time, and I am now married to a man who is kind, God honoring, and humble. My kids love him. My ex-husband and I can attend family gatherings and he and my present husband talk sports and scriptures. I had prayed for reconciliation during my separation and divorce, and my prayer was not answered the way I wanted, but healing comes in the manner we conduct ourselves around each other and our kids. I wrote a poem at the time that signified the darkness and fog I saw myself and my children immersed in, and we all are finding our way out. I hope the healing in my children will include good healthy relationships with others and with God. I plead with anyone considering divorce, that the repercussions are severe and far-reaching. Please take the time to read Frank Turk's essays on this very important issue.

When Stones Crack

In a place of fog where stone pillars rise,

split, and become men with watchful eyes,

my son has hooded eyes.

He knows if he opens them wide,

tears will fall.

In church one day, I saw my son

lift his arm, gently flick his wrist,

and an invisible basketball sailed through the rim.

he did this twice.

Headlights thread through winding roads

and come to rest on the crest of a cliff.

headlights search the darkness below.

There is a rushing wind that wells up from the sea

and forces through the city.

it pushes up over the mountains

and meets me on the edge where I wait.

Son, listen close

The telephone is the cord that binds us now.

When you were born, your father, sisters, and I rejoiced.

This was back when we believed

in the strength of love.

My prayers are heavy to the touch.

They are gray.

my son is a rock, thrown into a pool

with no ripples to proclaim his pain

I am also imbedded in stone,

hand raised, imploring that these stones crack

like sidewalks do in summer,

letting through the most incredible life.