We were a team at church. Last summer, when it was time to get ready for the fourth of July church celebration, Jason did not have anyone to put the event together. He asked me to be in charge of it. I was happy to help. The troops in the church rallied, and the day finally rolled around. There was a great service that celebrated all the different types of church music through the ages, followed by a wonderful covered dish meal with a dessert bake-off by the men. It was a wonderful day, and I was honored to have a part in it.
We were a team at my school. I inherited a very old classroom. It was not exactly the most welcoming place to spend a day. The week before school started, I had the bright idea to paint the room. Here was the problem with that wonderful idea. I had forgotten that most days of pre-planning week are filled with meetings. It was the day of open house, and the room was not even half way finished. I remember calling Jason in a panic. "Give me a couple of hours, and I will be there." He changed his schedule and made time to help me finish painting the room. The last strokes were going up about thirty minutes before the open house. We did it. Together we made it happen.
Finally, we were a team at home. I remember when we had the brilliant idea that we could save $2000 if we put in our own sprinkler system. We did it. We just about killed ourselves, but we worked together and made it happen. We were a team when it came to parenting. When issues with the children would arise, we always presented a united front.
It was a good life. I loved being a part of that amazing team. But somewhere along the way, things changed.
At some point, we went from two people who lived, loved, and laughed together to being irrevocably broken, impossible to fix. It still seems like it happened overnight. I wish I had known that last Christmas would be our last one together, the four of us. I would have treasured every single moment. For those of you who are happily married, never take those precious moments and celebrations for granted.
I wish I were not on this unplanned journey, but I am. I can remember as a child, I loved the see-saw. But here is the thing about the see-saw: once one person decides he no longer wants to play, the game is over. Thinking back on that childhood memory, I can see myself up in the air, feeling like I was on top of the world. My sister was sitting on the ground as she grins mischievously. "Don't do it! Don't you dare!" She does it. She hops off and I go pounding to the ground. Game over. Without her, all I could do was sit there.
When one person checks out of the marriage, it is over. You cannot force someone to stay. He has free will to walk away. So, as much as I don't want to admit it, at that point this marriage is irrevocably broken.
We sign the papers. I get off the see-saw. It is better to move on and find what else God has in store for me than to just sit there, grounded, going nowhere.
"There is surely a future hope for you, and your hope will not be cut off"
Proverbs 23:18 (New International Version)