Rising from the ashes....

We have a ceremony for everything these days, it seems. Turning three? We have a party that would have eclipsed most debutante balls 100 years ago. Moving from elementary school to middle school? We throw a graduation party that rivals a high school graduation. If someone dies, we have a funeral, and whether we throw a wake or sit Shiva, it's usually a party of remembrance. We have sweet 16's, Quinceañera parties, and prom. But the mother of all parties, throughout the world, is a wedding, which on average costs more than a new car or a person's first annual salary.

The one party we don't throw, however, the one life event that goes unheralded, is the divorce that fully 50% of American couples endure. We don't send cards, we don't have a reception, there is no religious ceremony to mark the occasion. These days, with no fault divorce, mediation and lawyers doing all the talking, you often don't even have to go to court.

For myself, the moment came in a phone call while I was sitting in a parking lot near the courthouse, just in case something went awry and my presence would suddenly be required. There is something quite surreal about hearing that you are suddenly unmarried, that the solemn vow you made so many years ago binding your life to someone else's is voided. The glue is unstuck, and the life you built together is forever undone.

Divorce is awkward in the social context. Some people seem to fear that their own lives will be contaminated by the suggestion that marriage isn't forever after all, and they subtly recoil upon seeing you, like you are contagious

Your closest friends choose sides, find your former spouse entirely at fault, and deliver a sound declaration that you are much better off this way, despite all the evidence to the contrary. Although I can appreciate the impulse, often the wounded party is too confused and hurt to appreciate the underlying support. It is painful to hear your former spoouse denegrated, and it also makes you question your own judgment, since you were the one who picked that person in the first place.

Most people ignore it altogether, as if it's a social disease better left unmentioned.

Divorce is a death with tentacles that reach far beyond the couple involved, and I find it strange that such a seminal event in a person's life is without ceremonial observance. The collateral damage of a failed marriage, a family blown apart, spreads farther and wider than most people imagine when they are focused on their own misery.

The children, of course, suffer when their parents combined lives are rent asunder. Suddenly, they are forced to decide where they want to spend important holidays, birthdays, and other special occasions. Big events in their lives become a strategic planning circus, as they carefully manage who sits where and who takes precedence. Their daily lives change, not because they have done anything wrong, but because they cannot be in two places at once, and there is always one parent missing.

The extended relations also feel the rent in the family fabric, as the spouse is left out of occasions when they would previously have been included. Someone who has been important to them, perhaps even a Godparent or other close family member, is now shut out of their lives because they are no longer "family" in the way they were.

Friends are often caught in the middle of the warring parties, walking a tightrope between the ex-spouses, trying to remain friends with everyone. Eventually a new equilibrium will be found. Sadly, more often than you would think, that involves cutting both spouses from their lives, as they feel incapable of choosing one over the other, and thus, eliminate them both.

I found my own answer to this dilemma, and threw myself an "unwedding." I called it my Phoenix party, a way to rise from the ashes of what had been to something new and better. It gave me something positive to plan and look forward to, a focus on something new and different, and also encouraged other people to face the situation head on and deal with it along with me. It was a positive recognition of the huge change in my life, and one of the best things I've done for myself and my children in the aftermath of the devastation of a divorce.

I had my assistant pastor, a wonderful young woman who understood my need for God's blessing on the unmarriage, come and do a brief, but meaningful service for me and my children in front of the assembled friends and family. I wore my wedding dress, a ceremonial outfit fitting to the occasion. I chose the verses she read, and worked on things that would make the occasion meaningful to us. My children and I stood together and received a blessing that reassured us even though the marriage vows were broken, we were still a family worthy of God's grace.

And we partied, with food and drink and conversation. It turned out to be a fun occasion despite the serious moments, a celebration of our new life, a recognition that though a marriage had died, a family was broken, there was something new and wonderful that had now begun. It was, as all ceremonies are, a recognition of the new status that I would have, and it was important to me that it was done, not alone, but surrounded by people who cared about me.

I encourage anyone who has been through the agony of divorce to consider a similar unwedding ceremony. I have never understood how we could allow someone going through such a difficult and painful time to do so un-remembered and un-recognized. For me, what began in a church with the blessing of God needed to end with the blessing of God, as well. If you got married somewhere else, then you will find your own way to honor and remember the ending of your union, and usher in the new place where you find yourself in life. But don't ignore it, do it!

If you know someone in the throes of divorce, recognize the loss and the hurt of the death of what was, and encourage them to find a way to celebrate their new status. It is healing, comforting, and normal to honor someone when they are going through a huge change in their lives.

Five years ago, I started planning my Phoenix party, and it's one of the most positive things I've ever done for myself and my children. I encourage anyone who is experiencing the pain of divorce to consider a similar event. There aren't many resources out there to help you, but once you embrace the possibilities, you can make it an event that is entirely your own.

My email address is sarahisawalton[at]kc[dot]rr[dot]com. Feel free to contact me if you want to talk about ways to honor your past and future with a ceremony that is entirely your own. It isn't for everyone, but it can be a lot of fun, and it provides a positive way to move ahead in a life that is new and different, but also worthwhile.

Embrace the possibilities!

Tripping the guilt fantastic....

I read a quote this morning that really struck a nerve with me. I don't know the author of it, but he or she certainly hit the nail on my head. "Faith is a journey, not a guilt trip."

Like most moms (I can't speak for dads, but from superficial appearances they seem to have less of it than moms do,) I have a load of guilt that I carry with me at all times. In fact, without something to feel guilty about, I am almost lost in space. I am accustomed to the burden on my back, in my mind, and in my heart. When I free up space by dropping part of the load, I rapidly fill the void right up again with something else.

I feel guilty about not having enough time to devote to my children, even though both are now living elsewhere. I feel guilty about not having enough money to help them with not only needs, but modest wants. I feel guilty that my yard is a mess because I don't have the inclination or energy to deal with it. I feel guilty that the dogs don't get walked enough, the rabbit spends too much time in his cage, the fish are swimming in dirty water. I feel guilty that I haven't replaced the cracked window, and my mulch has now become dust without adequate protection for the vegetation that needs it. I frequently feel inadequate at work, not up to the job that I have to do each day. I don't get my clothes washed, I don't get the house cleaned, I don't spend enough time with my mother. The list is pretty endless, and all are legitimate claims on my time and my attention that are getting shortchanged one way or another.

I think that simple phrase, life is a journey, not a guilt trip, encapsulates everything that is wrong with the culture of being a mom today. Unless you are superwoman, all things to all people all the time, you are going to shortchange someone or something worthy of more on a regular basis. But our time and energy are limited. We shouldn't waste the limited time we do have feeling guilty.

Good enough is no longer valued in our culture. We want The Biggest, The Best, The Most, The Highest, The Lowest. Whatever it is, we want to have it be the ultimate, so that no one has it better than we do.

This week, our Lenten journey takes us along the path of Too Needy. The greedy nature of being human makes us, by definition, needy. We always want more and better of whatever it is we have or want. But at some point, enough should be good enough. We should be able to stop and enjoy the blessings we already have, instead of constantly striving for something more.

Ambition is valued in our culture, revered even. But when blind ambition leads us to neglecting what we already have, then where is the value? And for that matter, where are our values?

I don't think I am a particularly needy person. I am pretty content in my life with what I have, and would just like to be able to sustain it without the wolf being at the door. My need, if it can be called that, seems to be carrying guilt that I haven't earned, that I don't really want, and which, at times, prevents me from enjoying the life I do have. It is a luxury to feel guilty, I have realized, another thing I cannot afford.

Space in my home is finite, and at some point, I have to get rid of what I already have if I want to add more. While there is infinite room in my heart for everyone that fills my life with love, including God, I think I have also cluttered up my faith life with unnecessary detritus. If I am carrying a load of guilt, where is the room for the grace?

In this week of examining what it is to be too needy, I am going to work on dropping the guilt, and simply be grateful for what I do have. Instead of worrying about what is wrong, I will focus on what is right. The alternative to need is not acquisition, although that is the instinctive response when we want something we don't have. I think, instead, the alternative should be to redistribute what we no longer have any use for. Not only is that cheaper, in the long run, it's more satisfying.

This week, I am going to try to let go of some of the guilt, and fill the space with the grace of God. It seems like a trade-off worth making.