The Sweetest Mother's Day Gift!

My friends had a good marriage. They worked at it, shuffling shifts at work, which often meant they saw one another coming and going. There were immediately step-kids, then new babies who keep getting bigger. Fortunately, this family walked their daily lives with groups of friends in a local church. It all changed drastically one evening. Every situation looks a bit different, but this couple both disappointed one another greatly that evening. All in all, it was a disaster and, from this point on, there will be a “normal-life-before” and a “new-normal” after this fateful night.

Their marriage came under serious attack. Both husband and wife were deeply wounded. Words were said that cannot be unsaid. Children heard conversations not meant for young ears. Bags were packed and a family separated.

Enter Christian counseling. Aren’t we grateful for those brothers and sisters in Christ who help us see ourselves as we really are? Even the ugly. Trained professionals who show us healthy ways to handle the relationships in our lives. They help explain why we respond the way we do to all. the. things. When we enter these sacred offices, we stand in the presence of the hands and feet of Jesus. This couple’s Christian friends from their small group, they hung around too. Thank God! It seems if we only turn to our secular friends, divorce is a quick, “easy” answer. It was huge for this couple to have Christian friends who listened and gave feedback with the perfect balance of grace and truth.

I can’t share a lot of the details because I don’t live close to this couple and it is, after all, their story. Every now and then, I would send a text to the wife asking for an update. How could I pray? I knew better than to pass judgment. I didn’t want to take sides because I cared for both of them. These times leave our friendships in limbo. I just wanted my friend to know I continued to pray and, with me, she had a safe place to share her story.

The days and weeks immediately following the evening it all started were awful. More hateful words, threats, divided property and finances. The couple started to plan for a life apart from one another because they didn’t see reconciliation in their future. Irreconcilable differences. Suddenly, the children of the household were forced into a new normal too. They kept a bag packed for when they went to Dad’s. It became difficult to remember which of their possessions were at what household.They caught bits and pieces of adult conversations but didn’t dare ask too many questions themselves. Internally, they had a bucketful of questions, just waiting to be poured out.

Months of hard, emotional work ensued. This couple stared right at the internal junk many of us never even face. Individually, it made the husband and wife stronger. I would talk to the wife and walk away amazed at how much wisdom she’d attained. However, nothing brought the couple back together. Even as an outsider, I began mourning the loss of yet another marriage. It seemed our enemy had won again. 

The wife started contemplating that dreaded word—divorce. She’d known things were bad, but that word never really settled into her soul. When it finally did hit her – one moment on a particular afternoon – she thought to herself,

“What am I doing? I don’t want this.”

That was a pivotal moment for her. She wanted her marriage, even though she had no idea how to build a bridge back to a healthy union. But God…

That’s it my friends. The message I have for you today. If your marriage is on the rocks, be it a steady decline, or the morning after a night you’re not sure you’ll ever forget; no matter what your friends tell you, what society leads us to believe, you don’t have to get a divorce.

Please, oh please, don’t turn this into an argument about divorce. I believe God hates it, but still I know in this fallen world, it’s going to happen. If you or your children are in danger, get out. If you have already gone down the road of divorce, lay down any shame you carry at the foot of the cross. I have seen God do amazing works of redemption in many lives over the years.

What I am saying—even if divorce looks imminent in your situation—that’s not necessarily true. In this couple’s relationship, they turned a corner. Both people made a decision to stop hurting one another and start healing. It took both of them to choose this path. 

In time, they shared what details they needed to with their kids. The husband moved back home. Counseling continues. One of the pieces I thought seemed extremely helpful is they don’t talk about the most painful parts, the raw wounds, except in a counseling session. They did this so the relationship they’re building now can emerge healthy and whole. The wounds remain, but they believe Christ’s blood can cover them. In time, they have hope the pain they caused one another will fade. So that five, ten, even fifty years from now, they can remember these few months in 2016 as an unpleasant memory. Instead, they’ll focus on all the good that came after the pain. Good they would have missed if they hadn’t found a way to keep their family together. Love can win. 

originally posted on tracesoffaith.com

So God Made a Grandmother book by Leslie Means

If you liked this, you'll love our book, SO GOD MADE A GRANDMA

Order Now!

Traci Rhoades

Traci Rhoades is a writer and Bible teacher. She lives in the Grand Rapids, Michigan area with her family and an ever-changing number of pets. Connect with her online at tracesoffaith.com or @tracesoffaith on twitter. She is the author of "Not All Who Wander (Spiritually) Are Lost."

Your Worth Is Not Someone Else’s To Measure

In: Faith, Living
Woman looking over canyon

Insecurity is something we all carry in one form or another. For me, it has probably always looked confident and outgoing from the outside. But internally, it can feel heavy, complicated, and exhausting at times. And when someone comes along whose behavior reinforces those insecurities, it amplifies what was already there. There was someone I had hoped to genuinely connect with, but it was clear from the start that the feeling wasn’t mutual. From the beginning, their wall was up. No matter how kind I tried to be or how carefully I showed up, it never came down. Their distance...

Keep Reading

Lord, Give Me Faith Like Hannah

In: Faith
Woman walking in field with hand in wheat

Hannah knew what it was like to feel forgotten. She often clutched her empty womb and thought Surely the Lord has forgotten me.  She knew the bitter sting of feeling isolated and alone. She knew the anguish of praying day after day after day and seeing no fruit, not even a bud, from her faithfulness. Hannah knew what it was like to feel like the weight of the world was on her, and her hope may have dwindled. Even those around her did not offer encouragement. Quite the opposite—they did their best to sow seeds of discouragement. Yet Hannah pressed...

Keep Reading

God Carries Me Through the Deep Waters of Change

In: Faith, Living, Motherhood
Woman at the beach as waves come in

“Ahhh!” My underwater scream garbled in my snorkel tube as the manta ray’s cavernous mouth swept a hand’s distance from my face. My fingers tightened around the surfboard until my knuckles ached. My arms trembled. I jerked my head side to side, searching for my daughters, Mia and Megan. Recent college graduates, they had joined me on one last mother-daughter vacation before launching their adult lives. They floated easily on the vibrant Hawaiian water, relaxed, trusting. I wanted to borrow their calm. Earlier, our guide had explained that the LED lights built into the surfboard attracted plankton the way college...

Keep Reading

Faith After a Rare Disease Diagnosis

In: Faith, Motherhood
Family smiling in posed photo

My pastor frequently speaks of “kid pain” and acknowledges there’s nothing like it. I can testify to that. After nine months of uncertainty and unexplained issues following the birth of our now 4-year-old daughter, Harlow, we finally received her diagnosis of Pyruvate Dehydrogenase Complex Deficiency (PDCD), a life-limiting mitochondrial disease with no cure and no FDA-approved treatments. It was heartbreaking. In moments like these, a parent can fall into complete desperation. You go through a range of emotions almost too fast to name: fear for your child’s life; anxiousness about how much time you’ll get with them; overwhelming grief. And...

Keep Reading

What If I Don’t Hear God’s Voice?

In: Faith
Woman with folded hands looking up

There have been many times over the years when I’ve heard others share stories of how the Lord spoke to them or gave them a sign. Seashells scattered along a sandy beach, numbered to represent how many children they would have. A quiet walk in the park, followed by a clear sense that another little one was coming. What a blessing, I think, when I hear and read their stories. I often wonder how much more faith they must have than I do—to know with such certainty that what they heard was truly God speaking. I listen, I smile, and...

Keep Reading

God Holds You As You Hold Everyone Else

In: Faith, Motherhood
Mother holding toddler daughter on her hip, standing outside

She stands in the kitchen, hands trembling over the sink, tears she cannot let fall pressing behind her eyes. The world outside her window is quiet, but inside her heart there is a storm she cannot name. She is hurting, not because she does not love her life, but because somewhere along the way she forgot how to breathe inside it. Yet even in her pain, little voices call her name. Tiny hands tug at her shirt. Lunchboxes need packing, homework needs checking, hearts need holding. And so she wipes her face, forces a smile, and whispers a quiet prayer:...

Keep Reading

Yes, I Know Fear—but I Also Know Faith

In: Faith, Motherhood
Mother holding child's hands in hospital bed

The night my daughter woke up screaming at 3 a.m., I knew something was wrong. Her cry wasn’t the half-asleep whimper of a bad dream. Instead, it was pain—raw and sharp. Within an hour, we were rushing to the emergency room, the world outside our headlights still wrapped in darkness. Tests, scans, questions, and then the words no parent ever wants to hear: “We’re transferring her to another hospital by ambulance. She needs surgery right away.” They said “torsion.” They said “tumor.” They said “appendix.” I nodded, because that’s what mothers do. We stay steady, even when our hearts are...

Keep Reading

10 Years after My Mother’s Death, Her Faith Still Guides Me

In: Faith, Grief
Woman praying

Growing up, I was a reluctant Catholic. My mother would drag us to church, and I’d go through the motions—fingers moving across rosary beads without really feeling the prayers. But she never stopped. Sunday Mass, daily prayers, devotions to the Blessed Mother. She was relentless in her faith, not because she was trying to force it on us, but because she genuinely believed we would need it someday. She was right. My mother died of stage 4 colon cancer in 2012. My brother and I watched her suffer, saw how her body betrayed her, watched as treatments failed. And here’s...

Keep Reading

Finding God in the Middle of Disbelief: A Mom’s Journey through Faith and Fear

In: Faith
Mother holding hand of young child, silhouette

“But the Lord is with me like a mighty warrior; so my persecutors will stumble and not triumph over me.” – Jeremiah 20:11 God, thank You for making sure my son is okay. Thank You for this just being paranoia. I believe in You. I believe in Your control. I believe. I believe. I believe. These words streamed through my head as my husband drove us downtown to visit our first specialist with our 4-month-old son, Maximus. Our pediatrician had written me off, but I could not ignore the feeling in my bones that something was wrong. Tiny, hard bumps...

Keep Reading

In Praise of Indebtedness: How Threads of Reciprocity Weave Us Together

In: Faith, Living
Woman holding casserole

It all started with tomatoes. After we moved, a neighbor invited us to pick from the abundance in her and her husband’s gardens. In return for a pile of tomatoes gathered from their raised beds, I left a plastic bag of homegrown pumpkins on their porch. Later that summer, our neighbor stopped by with a recycled container full of still more fruits. By the fall, we were sharing chili and cookies over dinner at our place. Threads of indebtedness were weaving us together. For most of my life, the idea of indebtedness has tasted rather repulsive on my tongue. The...

Keep Reading